I'm not THAT old... yet.

I was looking over my blog.  I do that from time to time.  Not in a narcissistic kind of way.  More like how a person who plays sports likes to study film of the competition before the big game.  (OK.  Maybe with a little hint of narcissism.)  When you are an actor, you ARE your competition.  So watching your performances is like watching game film.  You watch to see what statement can be made better.  You check for moments the crowd really thought you were funny.  (You keep that!)  You listen for moments when the crowd wasn't so in to what you were saying.  (You throw that mess out! Not that I ever had ANY of those moments (narcissism).)  But in the end, you use those previous attempts (successes AND failures) to perfect your craft.

(Now, I'm not sure why I wrote the above paragraph.  It could have been the beginnings of a wonderful masterpiece of a blog (again with the narcissism).  But, really, it has very little to do with the theme of this post.  As a matter of fact, that whole paragraph is only there to provide a segue to a statement that could have been summed up with this: I have noticed something on my Blog.)

I have almost reached the century mark of followers!  (A lot of people have more followers but none will love you like I do. Granted, that sounds a little creepy... but it's true.)  Then I thought, "WOW! Almost 100.  That is great!  I should really plan something for follower 100.  But what could I plan?  More importantly, how could I tell who is #100.  People might cheat just to get the prize that Que puts out there.  It might be another 8 x 10 glossy of me.  (Those went over well last time.)  It might be a map of Wyoming (same contest).  (There are very few of those in print so it might be of some value one day.)  It could be my wife's dog. (Please, oh, PLEASE let it be my wife's dog!)  Why am I thinking about this so much?  There is no way to tell who #100 is anyway.  So this is really pointless.  Plus, I might not ever make it to 100.  So many things could happen over the next 17 years (time it will take to get 4 more followers).  But 100 followers would be cool.  100.   That's a pretty big number.  I mean, it's not like BILLIONS but it's still good.  Unless, of course, you are talking about age....

(And there it was.  My little trip in stream of consciousness lead me to another thought and an even worse segue than the opening paragraph.  I'm getting old.  It's a pretty simple thought with a lot of complex variables.)

I'm getting old.  My birthday is in a few weeks.  I really don't have too much of a problem with the idea of getting old.  Birthday's are just another day for me.  And, I have already accepted that I'm theoretically closer to my end than my beginning.  Everyday brings me that much closer.  And I'm fine with that.  It really doesn't bother me too much.  I figure before I get too old the world will have gotten hit by an asteroid, or we will have been attacked by aliens or even that the Mayan prophecy might be right and we only have a year and a have left to live anyway.  (One sci-fi movie has to eventually be right.)  So, I'm more concerned about the signs that tell me I'm getting old.  There are a few things going on that leave me with the feeling that age is MUCH more than a number and the person who came up with the opposing view of that must have been on "younger" side of the statement.

How do I know I'm getting old?  Well... There are the classic signs.  I'm starting to have more hair in my nose and ears than I do on my head.  I'm a little upset about that one.  And I'm not upset that my hairline is receding faster than President Obama's (pre OBL slaying) Approval Rating. I'm upset that it takes forever for me to shave my head bald.  (Who would have thought?)  I know that's petty.  But it really does take a long time.  There are a lot of products geared toward preventing hair loss.  But where are the products geared toward removing hair and having it never come back again.  This is a product that could help men AND women.  (My personal opinion...  No one has done this because it has terrible capitalistic value.  Even if you found enough customers, you wouldn't have any repeat business... whether it worked or not.  And in order to get it to sell you would have to package it with a diet plan or a Foreman Grill or something.)

I can also tell I'm getting old because I have a daily routine.  And I don't mean the going to work or school.  We all do those things.  (Well, most of us.)  But, I'm talking about when I get home from work I have a daily routine.  I usually get home right before supper is done. (Most wonderful wife ever!) But I come in, say hello to the wife and kids and then go straight to the bathroom!  I go in there to wind down from work.  I'm not disturbed (most of the time).  I can sit down and relax. (I work with computers with both of my jobs. So I'm not sure why I just enjoy the sitting.  Maybe it has something to do with cool and porcelain.  I'm sure there is a therapy support group just waiting to happen in there somewhere.)  When all is calm (as calm as it can be) and all is quiet (Ok, that's pushing it (not sure if the "pushing it" pun was intended or not)) it's time for the Sudoku!  There are times I'm completely done with the business portion of the bathroom break before I ever start with the pleasure portion.  I love me some Sudoku!  The book I'm working on right now has a few hundred puzzles and I have been working on it for a year and a half.  That's quality time folks.

After the Sudoku bathroom break, it's time for dinner.  The family eats together.  We talk about work.  We talk about school.  We fight with the kids for not eating their vegetables.  Then, I fight with my wife when she tries to make me eat MY vegetables. (Especially those stupid lima beans!  I would absolutely WASTE a Back to the Future trip in time just to go to Peru when they started farming that mess and punch the dude right in the face.  Farming that was something that should have never been done... ever.  It did permanent damage to the space/time continuum.  I know that is harsh but the guy deserves to be punched.  I would even take my DeLorean and do donuts through every single lima bean crop in existence before I took my 1.21 Gigawatts ride back home!  Sorry for the long aside.  I really hate lime beans.)

After diner, it's time for the kids baths.  Story time follows.  (Sometimes I even read the kids a story!)  Then it time to put the kids to bed.  After THAT fight it's quiet time again.  So what do we do?  Angry Birds.  (If you are reading this and know my wife, you may ask her about MY Angry Birds skills at your own risk.  You have been warned.  But when you ask her, please record the reaction.  I'm thinking of posting some YouTube material.  And that would be a good place to start.)  After my total domination of Angry Birds it's time to brush the teeth and go to bed.  That is my normal routine.  And nothing says OLD like a daily routine.

Here's the last reason I'm going to post as to how I know I'm getting old.  I'm always making references to songs just like my parents.  When I was growing up, all I would hear from my parents when I was listening to a song was, "Aw, that ain't nothin' but a James Brown song!" Or, "They just stole that song from Stevie Wonder."  And even, "I thought that was Gladys Knight until they started singing.  Now it just sounds like the Pips!"  And you know what... They were right.  There are few things new in the recording industry.  And the things that are new stink.  So all of the good stuff you hear today is just sampled or remade from hit songs of years past.  (Now if that little rant doesn't sound like my father then I don't know what does.  A lot of the kids' songs today really don't do justice to the songs of the 80s that they stole them from.  It's almost like the world didn't end at the new Millennium but creativity did. (If you don't believe me, look at the movie industry.  There are so many "reboot" movies taken from the 80s it's ridiculous! - Batman - Superman - A-Team - G.I.Joe (I could go one forever)))

My only saving grace to this is that at least I haven't made the statement, "as long as you live under my roof" blah, blah, blah.   Not that I wouldn't but the situation really hasn't presented itself.  My oldest will be a teenager this year so I'm sure I'm just a few months away from that OLD person staple.  Plus, the older I get the more I have to fight the urge to just NOT say those words.  I keep saying I'm GETTING old.  But I will announce that I AM old the day I say those words.  My fighting it will be over at that point and I can move on with my life... one foot in the grave and all.

In spite of everything you just read, I'm really serious when I say I'm fine being old.  It's the getting old that's the problem. (Do you believe that?)

It's Pee-ple Training Time

This is not the original post I was going to write.  But you didn't know that so this could actually BE the original post I was going to write disguised as the NEW post I'm presenting.  In the grand scheme of things that really doesn't matter much, but in the micro scheme of things I'm smiling on the inside with one of those nanny-nanny-boo-boo-I-know-something-you-don't-know thoughts.  And.... it's gone.

The post I was going to write is better than this one. (Or is it???.... OK. I'll stop.)  At least the subject matter is better because this one is about Potty Training (for the 3rd and LAST time).  And to all of my friends who are thinking of taking a shot at me for that statement... Yes, yes, yes.  After this many decades I have finally decided to learn to use the potty.  HA. HA. You are SOOO funny.  Now for everyone else... I'm talking about my almost 2-year old.

In my (not so) professional opinion, I think she is ready for this.  She's giving all of the signs. (Warning: All of my friends without kids... I'm about to lose you right here.  That's fine.  I will let you know when it is OK to come back.  All of my friends with kids... Well, these signs are all too familiar.)

1. She knows the the words pee-pee and poopie.  She can even repeat the phrase, "Pee-pee and poopie in the potty."  Of course she is just repeating at this point and hasn't made to true connection to it's meaning.  She doesn't know that it means, "Right now... you are pee-peeing and poopie...ing on yourself!"  And that's not where that stuff is supposed to go.  Oh, sure it's fun.  But the novelty wears off very quickly when you get into high school so it's better to take care of this now.

2. She's at the stage where she knows that the act of pooping in public is not smiled at and is often frowned upon in society.  We have 3 kids. (Yes, I know DAWN... I'm a rookie! No, DAWN, my wife and I don't need any more!  We are happy staying in the minor leagues on this one.) The 2 youngest of the 3 kids LOVE to fight each other.  That's the bad news.  The good news is that we always know where they are.  When they both get quiet we know there's trouble brewing somewhere.  But when the youngest is the only one that is quiet, we know there's a different kind of trouble brewing.

She likes to poop in Vegas.  I say that because I think she believes that whatever happens in Vegas... stays in Vegas.  And Vegas is located in the next room, or behind the love seat, or on there other side of the kitchen table or just any where she thinks no one can see her.  She hasn't figured out that when you do the doo in private, the smell follows you in public.  And even if you find her in the process of filling her PMP, or Personal Mobile Potty (a diaper for those not getting it) she will deny any knowledge of event as if she was a major league baseball player on trial for steroid use. (And you all know how that always turns out.)  Just follow the evidence trail (so to speak) and you will find a dirty diaper and a little girl with that same nanny-nanny-boo-boo-I-know-something-you-don't-know look that I had.  The only difference is... I know.

3. She has enough LITERAL intestinal fortitude to NOT poopie in the wet diaper of the morning.  Every morning when I'm getting the kids ready, she waits until I change her wet diaper to leave me a soiled one (just so I have to change two).  Some might think that it's just the timing of the whole thing.  You know... The kid wakes up and after about 5-10 minutes of being awake it's THAT time.  To those people I say, "NAY! Thou art wrong!"  I have waited longer than the 5-10 minutes on purpose just to see what happens.

(A side note: This is mainly how WE fathers learn.  I have learned a many a lesson by mentally thinking, "Let's just wait and see what happens."  Most mothers don't typically learn that way.  This method has a very high failure rate on the action but also shares a very high "lesson learned" rate. 

A side note to the side note: Just because WE fathers learned the lesson does in no way guarantee that we won't try the same thing again at a later date. I know... definition of insanity. Yada, yada, yada.  Just deal with it!)    

But after waiting forever to see what happens... nothing.  She won't do it.  If I don't change the wet diaper, she won't go.  Then after a long enough time, she'll start pointing at the diaper and saying something that I can only assume means, "Change my wet diaper NOW so I can complete the morning transactions!"  Maybe that's why they call it #2 because when you reach THAT age it's how many diapers it takes to get the morning job done.

4. She cuts into daddy time.  As if the first 3 weren't enough about me in this whole process, this last one is COMPLETELY about me.  She wants to come into the bathroom when I'm in the bathroom.  She hasn't figured out that the bathroom is my Throne Room.  All of my greatest ideas have in some way started in the Throne Room.  No constructive ideas are happening when the little one is in there.  I like to sit on the Throne and work on my sudoku puzzles. There's no sudokuing going on.  (I'm really upset about that one.) Out of all of the places in a house with kids... the Throne Room is my place of peace and quiet.  There's no peace or quiet when the little one is in there.

Not meaning to be rude, but I can't even focus on the task at hand.  I have to make sure she's safe and can't destroy the place.  She's trying to measure the bathroom with the toilet paper.  She wants to put everything (including herself, toys and books) into the tub.  She wants to climb on me.  She wants to talk to me in baby language.  She wants to pull everything off the sink.  She wants to cry when daddy can't play right at that moment.  (He's busy!  Those sudoku puzzles won't work themselves!) Basically it's a lose/lose situation for everyone involved.

(OK. Kidless friends.  You can come back now.) I know that kids will reach this all-important milestone at their own pace.  I'm not going to push her past her limits.  We are going to go at her pace.  But I will be going back on the day shift in a month so she needs to hurry up and figure this out... at her own pace, of course.

(Because of the subject matter, I purposefully left out pictures.  

You'll thank me later.)