Destroy the Devil!

Even though we had some tough moments on our recent journey from whence I came, the trip overall was by no know means an abject failure. Me and the Boy(s) had some great times. One of the cool things we did on the first leg of our trip was drive down memory lane, so to speak, in my home town of Sand Springs. I even took the Boy(s) to the cemetery to see my Grandpa's grave. Granny too. Pops and Old Granny had spread a few of her ashes there this past fall.

Standing around, reading what E called the stories on the headstones, I pointed out the house that used to be, for me, my old home on Garfield street. The Elder Boy was duly impressed. Mainly by the fact that his Dad was once brave enough to live in such close proximity to a graveyard. You see, Dear Reader, when the Elder Boy asked what was at the cemetery, I told him headstones and dead people. Not the smartest move. E has seen most of Pirates of the Caribbean, and I think the Boy imagined the graveyard full of skeletons every full moon. Which is my fault. My Lovely Bride is correct, there are movies that are not age appropriate. Please don't judge me to hard though, mainly because I think you'll want to judge me much harder a bit later in this here BLOG entry.

The second leg of the Mr. Mom Tour found me and the Boy(s) in Norman, Oklahoma. We stayed with our dear friends, The Mears Clan. We always have a grand time when we visit the Mears Clan, but this time was a bit more memorable for one reason. Guitar Hero II. Sweet Mother of all that is good, that game is glorious. The Boy(s) were hooked from the get go. The played it every chance they could get Saturday, and then started out early on Sunday AM. In fact, while My Lovely Bride was doing the church thing on Sunday morning, the Boy(s), under my tutelage, were rocking (hard) to Shout at the devil. Seriously. Of all the songs on Guitar Hero II, that was their favorite. Strutter by Kiss was a close second.


We don't have Guitar Hero II at Casa Tinsley. My Lovely Bride is against video games. I'm hoping we can cure her of that prejudice come Christmas. That is why I was taken aback when the Elder Boy, apropos of nothing, informed me at dinner the week after our trip that he loved Destroy the devil.

Excuse me?

I thought maybe he had learned or heard something in Sunday school? Or his dayschool. The Little Warrior quickly shot that down though, with his resounding, YEAH!

"You mean Shout at the devil? The game we played at the Mears Clan?"

"YEAH!" came at me loud and in unison.

"You know Boy(s), Daddy has that song on his iPod."

After dinner, the Boy(s) spent a good 30 minutes playing Guitar Hero II sans the Guitar or the Hero. We listened to Shout at the devil 6 times back to back.

The coup de grâce came this past Sunday. The Boy(s) decided to ride with me to church, quickly requesting Shout at the devil. Some might think that a bad song selection prior to church. Not me. I think it is hilarious.

Thus, Sunday morning coming down found me and the Boy(s) Shouting at the devil, rocking as we rolled into a very busy church parking lot.

Until I BLOG again...Shout at the devil!

I have no more than I did before

Considering we embarked on our trip to Oklahoma on the Ides of March, I really wasn't all that surprised to find myself riding down the escalator at the OneOK Building in downtown Tulsa Oklahoma covered in puke. It wasn't my puke. It was the Younger Boy's, who was in my arms. The Elder Boy was there too, only he was a good 10 steps behind us, I'm guessing because of the smell. Perhaps it was out of embarrassment too? Hell, probably both. Can't say I blame him.

Four floors above me, while I gave Wy and myself a whore's bath in the ground floor bathroom, Old Granny was busy rubbing Wy's vomit into the carpet of Rhodes, Hieronymus, Jones, Tucker & Gable conference room.

Don't feel bad for Old Granny. It was her fault Wy puked in the first place. You see Dear Reader, she had given The Little Warrior the damn Lifesaver in a vain attempt to occupy his time as we waited for the lawyer. Suffice to say, it didn't work. So there I was, Mr. Mom, on day one of my solo voyage with my Boy(s). In a fancy law firm in a high rise office building in downtown Tulsa to finalize my Grandma's will and some other fun legal documents that were nothing but bitter reminders that my Mom was dead.

We weren't even paying for the legal services. Oh no. They came compliments of my Father-In-Law who had done a lot of work with that firm in the past. They were doing a favor to him, which he had extended to me to help my Grandma who was sitting in that large conference room like a deer in headlights as the Younger Boy started to choke on the Lifesaver she had just gave him.

He wasn't actually choking. The Lifesaver was stuck in his throat, and it being mint, well it burned. The burning caused the Younger Boy to start hopping around as he said, "It hurts, It hurts..." at which point he started doing a crazy dance and screaming and crying. That set the Elder Boy off - he can be overly protective of his Younger Brother - so he promptly ran up to me shouting, "Daddy, Daddy, Wy's choking!!!! Daddy, Daddy, Wy's going to die!!!"

He wasn't choking per se. He clearly was getting air, and able to scream and yell and cry. I had seen the Elder Boy choke once when he was about a year old. I had to do the baby choking move on him to get the food dislodged. I knew what choking looked like. As I knelt down to get face to face with Wy, I tried to reassure the Elder Boy and calm him, so I could calm The Little Warrior down. At some point, I looked at my Grandma for a little help, but sadly, she was oblivious.

On my knees face to face with Wy, I realized that the entire wall behind me was glass - and that it faced the waiting area. That the receptionist and any guest waiting was right about now, watching our freak show. Fuck me. Sorry Buddy (my father-in-law.)

Wy didn't care about what anyone else was thinking though, he was still in a panic, retching, and freaking out, hard. E too. He was still screaming, "Wy's choking! Wy's dying! Wy's choking! Wy's dying!" Over and over and over.

At that point, I decided to scoop the Younger Boy up in my arms and flip him over and do the head point down, five firm back blows between his shoulder blade move that I had used on The Elder Boy once upon a time. Only I didn't get that far this time. Pretty much as soon as I stood up, and had Wy level to my face, he puked. A lot.

You see Dear Reader, a great novelty on any trip to see Old Granny is being able to jack around with her fancy refrigerator with the automatic ice and water dispenser. The Boy(s) have to get a lot of drinks. Thus the Younger Boy retched up what had to be a quart of water along with one mint flavored Lifesaver that stuck on my sweater.

I would think that would be enough adventure for one Mr. Mom trip. As usual, I would be wrong.

Unbeknownst to me, this past Sunday, on our return voyage, TXDOT decided to shut down I-35 south of Corinth Texas. What would normally be 30 minutes to our front door took us 1 hour and 45 minutes. The Boy(s) literally watched Flushed Away in it's entirety on their DVD player thingy while we crawled 10 miles. There was no where to go. No alternative route. No way out which is why I cringed when The Younger Boy informed me that he had to pee. Sweet mother of all that is good.

I tried in vain to stall him. Divert his attention. I couldn't even get off the highway to let him pee at the side of the road let alone find a service station. It was complete grid lock. The only thing I could do was reach around (his car seat was behind the driver's seat) and fumble around with one hand as I tried to unstrap him, while the Elder Boy informed me I was breaking the law. Nice.

"Wy," I said, "You have options."
Ethan kept at me, "You're breaking the law Daddy."
"Ethan, you aren't helping. Wy, I can't pull over and let you pee, or get off the highway and find a bathroom. I'm sorry, this traffic sucks."
Wy whined, cried, "I got to go pee."
"I know son, I'm sorry. You can try and hold it, pee in your pants..."
"I'M A BIG BOY!"
"OR...you can pee in this empty coffee cup."

Wy peed in the empty cup. My three year old Boy stood between his and E's seat, pulled his pants down and peed as I held the cup in my right hand, and navigated through the stop and go traffic with my left. E even helped, by giving me an on going status report of the level of urine in the cup. It was quite the Team effort and in all honesty, I have to say, I was proud of the Boy(s). Especially Wy who has only been fully potty trained a few months. Now he can piss in a moving, albeit slowly, car!

When Wy was done, I placed the cup full of pee in a cup holder, and reached around and strapped the Boy back into his seat and gave him a celebratory high five which is when I noticed the Trucker to our right. He looked as if he was going to piss his pants - he was laughing so hard - at our rolling freak show.

Until I BLOG again...But now I got all that I need..

This ain't family life!

How can it go from zero to crazy in 60 minutes? Only an hour before, I had entered my version of domestic bliss. I'm talking 21st century Norman Rockwell painting come to life. Fast forward 60 minutes and my Rockwellian dream had morphed into that famous Munch painting. I'm talking crazy train crazy.

Dig if you will a picture, the entire Team in The Little Warrior's room. Wy Wy, fresh from a spanking, was a screaming dervish, whirling around a pile of shit and pool of urine. It wasn't his waste, it was the dog's, who was doing what she does best, dancing. I guess she thought Wy's commotion was a new game. She wasn't dancing long, my Lovely Bride, fresh from spanking the Little Warrior went ballistic over her defilement of Wy's room. Hearing his Mom's tirade against the dog, The Elder Boy bum rushed into the room, yelling, as he tried to save Ruby, who realized she was in trouble and started hopping around like a goat.

Me? Fuck me. I was standing there, amidst the mayhem, trying to figure out how the Team can go from Ozzie and Harriet cute to utter chaos in sixty fucking minutes.

Like many of my stories, this one begins with the Younger Boy sans pants. You see, Dear Reader, that was the first thing I noted when I entered the casa after a hard day of work. The second thing I noted was how nice they Boy(s) were playing together. It was sweet. Both of them were laying on the red rug in our den, with Ruby, playing Rescue Heroes. As if this wasn't enough, the coup de grâce was the fact that my Lovely Bride was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on our dinner.

My personal Leave it to Beaver episode lasted five minutes. That is when, a simple Rescue Heroes ownership issue set us on the road that led to Wy's room.

I could hear the Boy(s) fighting as I walked down the hall back into the den. When they saw me, they both started pleading their case, trying to make me the judge of who owned what. Believe me when I say, I'm the last person you want to judge anything to do with Rescue Heroes. I hear their names, and well I giggle like a school boy. My lack of judgement and inability to play Dad only fueled their fire. Thankfully we were saved by the bell. The dinner bell. As my Lovely Bride told us to wash up, the Elder Boy shoved his basket of Rescue Heroes back to his room, as his younger brother launched into a diatribe against his big brother.

Back at the table, My Lovely Bride's hard work was rewarded yet again by the The Little Warrior's irrational complaint about what was on his plate. You could serve the Younger Boy ice cream and cake for dinner and he would bitch and moan and ultimately have to be coerced to eat it.

Meanwhile as Wy pronounced everything on his plate 'yucky', The Elder Boy was channeling The Flamingo Kid. For those not versed in that glorious movie, the Elder Boy, like Jeffery, has the curious habit of murmuring while he eats. It is odd.

But at least he was eating. The Younger Boy, who you might recall wasn't wearing pants, was not. No. He was busy shoving bell pepper strips into his underwear.

Exasperated, my Lovely Bride told the Younger Boy to leave the table and go into the den to watch Caillou.

Happy to oblige, Wy pulled the bell peppers out of his underwear, threw them on his plate, and was gone. In any other home you probably would have heard a pin drop. Not ours, we had the Flamingo Kid at the table.

I should add, since my Lovely Bride later said she was in the Younger Boy's room earlier and there was no shit or piss, that at some point in the dinner show, the dog took her leave and went back and defiled Wy's room. We didn't know that then though.

It took the Elder Boy finishing his dinner, and going back into the den for us to learn of Ruby's act. That is when the two Boy(s) resumed their fight. With no parental supervision (we were still trying to eat our dinner) things quickly escalated. Yelling led to pushing, which led to fighting. In the end, The Little Warrior lived up to his billing and fought back against his bigger brother the only way he knows how - he bit him. On the back of the shoulder. Biting is bad. You only bite food, or so we say in our house. Thus, the Younger Boy was taken to his room where he received a spanking and is where we began the begin.

Until I BLOG again...... it sure ain't Ozzie and Harriet.