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My grandmother kept me out late tonight.

A few weeks ago she decided to break down and finally get a computer. For the second time. She did this once before, but sadly her first-generation iMac was never touched. So last weekend, we took a trip to the Apple store and bought her a beautiful new 20″ iMac and Canon MP620 wireless printer.

When we took it back to their house, I spent my time running updates and just getting it physically set up and connected. I also spent a little bit of time explaining to my grandmother what each of the icons in her dock meant. I went back tonight to finish the updates and to teach her some basics of how to use the machine.

I didn’t realize just how basic we’d have to get.

I take it for granted that I’ve basically been around computers all of my life. My brother had early Atari computers that stored data on a cassette tape (and doubled as a gaming platform). We did spelling lessons on old Commodores when I was in 3rd grade. Computer literacy was a required course my 8th grade year. I bought my first computer my senior year of high school. Now, I make my living “doing the internet.”

Tonight, we went through the very fundamentals of computer use: how to hold the mouse, how to click and double-click, how to select text, how to select a field with the cursor so that you can type in it. She’s an excellent student and is starting to get it, but I think we’ve got a long way to go before she opens a Flickr account, much less learns any keyboard shortcuts.

I’m lucky to be blessed with a fair amount of patience. That made tonight enjoyable. Of course, the perfectly-mixed Makers Mark and Diet Coke (thanks to my granddad) helped.

We’ve tried our best to follow the advice in On Becoming Babywise. We try to follow a feeding-playtime-naptime cycle. We also let Carter cry (for a few minutes) if we know all of his other needs are met and he just needs to cry himself to sleep. All that said, it still takes considerable effort to get him down at night.

Tonight, everything was going right. Carter had a dry diaper, he’d just finished a bottle, and I had rocked him into a nice deep sleep. I slowly stood up from the rocker, and danced a little with him to make sure he was still asleep. Then, I slowly bent over to lay him in the crib.

“CRACK!”

That would be my shoulder popping.

With that, Carter was wide awake and we had to start the process all over again.

That’s what I get for waiting until I was in my 30s to have kids. There’s no way teenage parents have to deal with such things. They have no idea how lucky they have it.

Tags: bedtime, geriatrics, teenage pregnancy

Is there any better catalyst for learning a lesson than blood?

Yesterday was one of those days. I woke up at 3:30 AM with a low blood sugar. The Boy woke up hungry 30 minutes later. By the time I got up for good, The Boy needed to be fed again, the house needed to be prepared for a visit from the cleaning people, I needed to get showered and I felt like I was already late getting logged into work.

I know, big deal. Parents deal with this kind of crap all the time.

But I was tired. And rushed. And my pancreas doesn’t work right. I was able to derive my morning into a mathematical formula:

Fatigue + being rushed + low blood sugar hangover + razor blades = blood.

Because I work from home, I’m not in the habit of shaving regularly. Lisa is lucky if it happens two, maybe three times a week. However, Mr. Plaid’s birthday was this week, so we were meeting the in-laws for supper that night. I figured I could refrain from looking like a suburban hobo for one day.

In my haste to get ready, I apparently forgot one of the major tenets of shaving: never move the razor vertically up your neck and chin in a jerky motion. Otherwise, there will be blood. I’m now sporting a nice cut on my chin. If anyone asks, I’ll boast that I got it in one of those notorious Collin County gangland street fights.

So kids, here’s the lesson: when you are rushed, tired, and/or have a retarded pancreas, go for the electric shaver. It’ll save you a nasty cut that Al Capone himself wouldn’t find too shabby.

Tags: Collin County gangland street fights, retarded pancreas, suburban hobo

This weekend marked my 50 first days of fatherhood and it has been quite a ride. I’ve never felt so much pride, joy, frustration and exhilaration as I have in the last few weeks. I’ve also learned some lessons:

• Assembly manuals for toys and children’s furniture are written by psychopaths.
• The boy can shoot poo 10 feet across a hotel room.
  Side note: If you are ever staying at the Country Inn & Suites in El Dorado, AR and offered room 221, refuse.
• Children’s songs are not only addictive, but designed to promote animal cruelty and terror to their target audience. Exploding weasels? Placing sleeping babies in treetops? What kind of asshole writes about such disgusting acts in such a chirpy and soothing melody?
• My kiddo’s smile can make all of my frustrations and worries vanish.

I’m sure there are more frustrations and laughs ahead, and I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything.

Tags: animal cruelty, child endangerment, laughter, poo, smiles

I snapped this at the church across the road from my grandmother’s house in Arkansas. Church signs bringeth forth a bounty of wisdom and humor.

I wonder if Mary used too much tape? Because I always use a ton of tape. You get to a point where you realize that you’ve used so much tape that it looks like crap and you might as well just put Jesus in a gift bag. With glitter.

Tags: tape, Wrapping Jesus

As of Friday, Lisa is 35 weeks along. If she goes the full 40 weeks, that means Carter can be here in just 34 days. He could arrive in just two weeks and still be considered full term. That is both exciting and terrifying.

Our last several weekends have been extremely busy, with baby showers and childbirth classes. Now is the time to catch up on our rest, so this weekend we decided to take it easy. We slept until almost 10:00 this morning. We didn’t shower until 3:00. I’m trying to fire as few brain cells as possible…which reminds me of a new delightfully satirical blog, TeenMomsforPalin.com. It’s written from the perspective of a pregnant teen mom that supports Sarah Palins run for “president.” The comments are just as funny, even if they confirm my opinion that people are stupid.

I’ll do my best to keep updating Blogimore a few times a week, but it’s starting to get difficult. My blogging time is being taken up by pack and play assembly, nursery preparation and washing baby clothes. Come to think of it, I probably need to take some time to go hang out buds. If I keep staying at home doing nothing but the stuff I mentioned above, I’ll probably make my milk come in.

Tags: laziness, man-boobs, satire blogs

Have I ever mentioned how much I love Ojeda’s? I’m talking heart-pounding, euphoric, trouser-tightening love. If I hadn’t snagged Lisa at an early age, I would spend every night in a hot, passionate encounter with an enchilada (and weigh 400 pounds).

I’ve been going to Ojeda’s ever since I was a collection of cells floating around my mother’s uterus. In fact, Mom loves to tell everyone that we take there that they posted my baby picture with a caption of “where’s my puffed taco?”

It’s definitely not the classiest dining experience you can have in Dallas, but you will be hard-pressed to find better Mexican food, and nowhere will you find a better enchilada. The locations are often not in the best neighborhood and the decorations are tacky and haven’t been updated since the 70s. But to me, that just adds to the charm.

The experience starts when you are greeted and seated, always by a member of the Ojeda family. Your server is guaranteed to be courteous, kind and knowledgeable. The salsa is delicious, but incredibly hot. They have a mild version available for the wusses. The margaritas are tasty and strong. Tortillas are always hot and fresh, but you barely have time to butter one before your meal arrives. No matter how busy they are, you will get your food in ten minutes or less. If you are like me, that first bite might bring tears to your eyes.

No joke, when we flew into Dallas from Baltimore last Christmas, we had to make our obligatory trip to Ojeda’s. It had been almost a year since my last meal there. When I took my first bite of enchilada, my head swarmed with memories, emotion and gustatory goodness. I actually felt my eyes watering up.

I’ve only opened a menu two or three times in the last 10 years. My standard is the enchilada dinner, one cheese, one beef. A couple of weeks ago, I branched out and ordered the Mexican dinner: one beef enchilada and two tamales. I’ve never gotten anything bad at Ojeda’s, but the enchiladas are definitely my favorite.

If you are hungry and near Park and Coit in Plano, on Maple Avenue in Dallas, or one of their other locations, please stop in and try it. I guarantee a good meal and a pleasant atmosphere.

Note that this is not a paid endorsement. I am simply a huge fan of the food at Ojeda’s, and have a lot of respect for the family that owns it. However, if you are a member of the Ojeda family and reading this, I am not above accepting a free meal or humping your leg for a sopapilla.

Tags: restaurants, tex-mex

Harold has been really stressed out lately over current economic conditions. It all came to a head on Sunday morning when he decided to take one of his own lives. He likes to sleep on the bar at the top of the stairs, overlooking the front door and entry hall. A time or two, Lisa and I have caught him trying to tightrope the railing, but he only got three feet off of the bar before he lost confidence and backed up. Either his confidence or his depression grew yesterday morning.

I was scrambling some eggs in the kitchen when I saw a blur falling from the ceiling out of the corner of my eye. It was followed with a loud thump. The bodyguard’s sister had spent the night and she exclaimed, “Oh my God, does the cat always jump off of the second floor?” I love the little guy, but I wasn’t shocked or concerned. First, cats can survive drops from high places. Second, Harold is borderline retarded and there is little we can do to prevent him from doing stuff like this.

When I rushed in to check on him, he was predictably licking himself as if nothing had happened. We monitored him throughout the day and he didn’t seem even mildly concussed. Stupid yes, but not concussed.

I’m just hoping that he learned his lesson from this. However, I’m afraid he will just see this as confirmation that he can survive anything, and start to seek his next stunt. Oh jeebus….my cat is David Blaine.

Tags: David Blaine, retardation

Last night, Lisa convinced me to attend a class with her at Baylor Hospital. A breastfeeding class. I made her re-read the line in the class description urging fathers to attend. Twice. When I asked if it was going to be held at a bar by the airport I just got the look.

As soon as we walked in the hospital, I was glad to see another couple (wife and husband) carrying their Boppy and walking toward the classroom. When we entered the classroom, we grabbed a stack of handouts and a remarkably realistic baby doll. The thing weighed like 7 lbs and came fully “equipped.” Unfortunately, the only remaining comfortable chairs were behind the home-schooled-looking couple that I correctly predicted would ask a lot of dumb questions.

The class began and something strange happened. My tension was easing and I found myself engaged and taking notes. The most surprising thing is that not once did I erupt into a fit of Beavis and Butthead giggles. And the instructor said words like breast. And areola. And nipple. Out loud. Like 14 or 15 times.

Maybe I’ve reached the point in my life where nipple is no longer just a funny word but a vessel through which my child will be fed and something to be outraged over if it is attached to Janet Jackson and exposed at a Super Bowl half-time show.

Tags: nipple confusion

The stock market is crashing. Credit is drying up. Gas is flirting with $4 a gallon and oil is over $100 a barrel. Natural disasters are incinerating our forests, flooding our heartland and destroying our coastline. World opinion of the U.S. is at an all-time low. Global temperatures continue to climb. But my friends, there is an issue that is far worse and more devastating, even though it goes largely unmentioned. People are simply too uncomfortable to talk about it. That problem is the epidemic of take out and fast food restaurants providing too few napkins with their orders. If you are lucky, you might get two napkins. When you ask for more, the cashier will look around to see if his boss is watching and then maybe slip you two more. What’s worse is that the quality of the napkins are increasingly inferior.

I’m a big guy with a big appetite, but tragically suffer from a modest-size mouth and an obsessive need to stay neat and clean. Having to suffer through this famine of scarce, but flimsy napkins is nothing short of a crisis. I know, I know, paper napkins kill trees and fill landfills. But tell me, how can you enjoy sitting under a tree if your mouth is soiled with grease and ketchup from that last bite of Big Mac?

We simply can’t wait another day to let this problem continue to fester. We must stand up and organize an online grassroots effort to end this problem plaguing our society. Write your member of Congress. Petition your local Taco Bell. If necessary, boycott Sonic until this problem has been solved. If not for me, if not for yourselves, do it for the children. I dream of the day when The Boy can drive through Whataburger and be given a large handful of napkins, use two or three, and then throw the rest away. If we are all strong, we can make it happen. I believe in you, Internet. I believe in America. Don’t let me down. USA! USA! USA!

Tags: fall of western civilization, napkins, outrage, The Boy