Little Ear Drummer Boy............

While Keith and I were at a baby shower (FYI, First and last time I start a sentence off that way), I found out that Cole busted his ear drum. Crazy, right? Well, I'll get to Cole's ear in a minute, but let me attempt to justify my involvement in the baby shower first:

A) It was a couple's shower, and there were actually more guys than girls there.

2) I helped plan the event, and we came up with games such as a baby toss, baby pictionary, a grab bag jar of baby food race, and a baby-bottle beer chugging race. (A race in which I came in a dismal 4th place out of 4 people. If you would've told me ten years ago that I'd finish dead last in a drinking contest at a baby shower, I would've punched you in the face. And I wasn't even a close 4th. It took me an awkwardly long time. I haven't felt that inadequate and pitied since I was a fat kid playing basketball, and everyone would cheer for me when I scored. Not just our team's parents would cheer, but the other team's parents, the other team, the janitors, everyone would stand up and clap. Thanks for the gesture everybody, but I'm just fat; I'm not retarded.)

D) Deviled Eggs!!

So after about 7 hours of baby showering ('baby showering' looks a little strange as a verb, no?), Keith and I were sitting there, watching a UFC fight (yes, I'm still trying to boost the perceived manliness of the baby shower), and Rach calls me. Now at this point, to my knowledge, Rach and a friend were taking the kids to the movies at around 7pm, although that was not what the tone of the following conversation led me to believe.

Rach: Where are you at? (Not the time to point out that she ended her sentence with a preposition.)

Me: We're still at the---

Rach: What?@! Yall better get your @sses home, right now! I just left the hospital! Cole's got a busted ear drum, and I'm at Walgreens getting his prescription!!

Me: Wait. What happened? Is he---??

Rach: (Click)

So Keith and I ran out of there faster than you could say, "I'm scared to death of my wife."

So what happened to Cole, you ask? We still really have no idea. They were all in the theater watching the movie, and Cole started complaining that his ear hurt. It started hurting so bad that he went to the bathroom and threw up. The doctor said it looked like his ear drum had been busted for quite some time, but there was no way to tell when or why it happened. Cole hadn't complained of any ear pain, and said he didn't remember doing anything that would've caused it. (This is why I need to become a doctor. For situations like this. I think med school will pay for itself with the money we save on ER visits alone.)

Apparently, Rach's distress stemmed from the fact that Cole had just puked all over the floor in Walgreens, and she'd be damned if I was going to have any fun while she was cleaning up half digested popcorn and JuJuBees.

So the next day (Cole was fine, by the way.), Keith and I were joking around with Cole about his puking episode:

Keith: So you just puked right in the middle of the aisle?

Cole: (Kind of sullenly) Yeah.

Me: Did they come over the loudspeaker and say, "(Squawk) We need a cleanup on aisle 2, cleanup on aisle 2."

Cole: (still somber) No, it was aisle 9.

--------------------------------------------------

On Sunday, in order to get back at me for having fun the night before, Rach made me watch A Walk To Remember. Quite possibly, the girliest, most depressing movie ever made. Nicholas Sparks, you have no soul. And I hate you. The thing that really confuses me, though, is why on earth Rach would even want to see this movie. She had already read the book, and admitted to barely being able to see the pages through her tears. So she basically knew that she was going to cry for about two hours. I mean, can you just kick me in the groin right now and get it over with? In a 24 hour period, I went to a baby shower and watched a Nicholas Sparks movie. Monday morning I forced to myself to eat shards of broken glass while I hit myself in the stomach with a sledgehammer just to be able to call myself a man again.

I know my wife is crazy, and you know my wife is crazy, and hell, even she knows that she's crazy. But damn it if I don't love that crazy broad. Her crazy is never boring, always makes me laugh, and keeps me constantly on my toes. It's the kind of crazy that I'm going to grow old with. Or it's the kind of crazy that's gonna kill me in my sleep. Either way, should be fun.

--------------------------------------------------

A couple of quick notes:

Cole got a 100 on his --I mean our -- Leif Ericsson project. I haven't been that happy to get a grade on a project since, well, um, never.

I don't care what you say,
this is going on my freakin resume

--------------------------------------------------

Jaxon has come home with all smiley faces for two consecutive days. In my opinion, this streak makes Cal Ripken look like Carl Pavano. (For all you non-baseball fans......Ahhhh, screw it. Just laugh. I don't feel like explaining it.)

I mean, how can you give him
anything BUT smiley faces......
Oh, wait, I forgot; he's a demon.

--------------------------------------------------

Tori danced in a Veteran's Day program at her school. I got some video, but couldn't get close enough to be able to really see what was going on. It was really good though. But I REALLY should've gotten video of her teaching me the dance later that night. Twinkle Toes, I am not. I guess there was bound to be something that I'm not good at.

Swine Flu Over the Cuckoo's Nest................

Well, we've got the swine flu. In our family, though, the swine flu was about as inevitable as a Mike Tyson airport altercation (but in this case, can you blame him? And of all the people to stick a camera in their face, you pick Mike Tyson? While he's walking in the airport with his 10 month old daughter? What did you expect would happen?). But the swine flu? Seriously? I was about as shocked to hear that Jaxon had the swine flu as I was when I came downstairs to find Rach ripping the carpet off of the stairs. She had no explanation or anything. Just, "I hate this stupid carpet on these stairs." Which got me thinking; it must be nice to be her. To be able to immediately remedy anything that you don't like at any given time. Don't like the carpet in the downstairs bedroom? Pull it up. Don't like the paint in the bathroom? Start painting it at 11:30 pm. Don't like the way the front door squeaks? Just rip it off the hinges. Don't like your husband's camouflage shorts? Just throw them away. Don't like his sleeveless tuxedo T-shirt? Just hide it from him forever. One of these days, someone is going to tell Racheal that she can't do something, and I do NOT want to be there when that happens. One time, I tried to explain to her how we're all bound by the laws of gravity, and she shoved an ice pick up my nose and said, "Oh yeah? Where's the gravity on this ice pick, huh? Where's your stupid gravity now?" Okay, maybe that didn't happen. But you don't know for sure that it didn't happen. All I know is that I'm fairly certain as soon as Rach gets our house to look the way she wants it to look; it'll be time to move. I've already resigned myself to this.

Okay. I'm done. Back to the swine flu. So Jaxon was sick a couple of weeks ago, but the doctor said it was just an upper respiratory infection, not the flu. He was on antibiotics for a week, and seemingly got better. But then when I picked him up from school on Monday, he was running a pretty bad fever. His teacher said that he hadn't been acting like himself all day long, but that, coincidentally, his behavior was better than it had ever been. Yay fever! Then Monday night the fever got up to about 105º. Poor little guy. It's such a helpless feeling when your 2 year old is sick and you can't do anything about it. I imagine it's a lot like what Chris Paul is going through this year.

But other than the fever, Jax seemed fine. At about 1:30 am, Rach was on the phone with the on-call doctor, and Jaxon woke up and overheard Rach say something about going to the hospital, so he very happily says, "Yay! Let's go hospital! We go hospital, Daddy!" But then immediately fell back asleep. It was very Abe Simpson-ish. So Rach took him to the doctor Tuesday morning, and they confirmed that it was, in fact, swine flu. No big surprise though. Our house is basically like a damn Petri dish. Jaxon is in daycare all day with 15 other snot-nosed kids and the other kids go to school with 300 other snot-nosed kids. Short of keeping them lathered in Purel, there's not a whole lot we can do to keep them bacteria-free all day long. (I know these things, I'm studying to become a doctor.) But the good thing about living in near 3rd world conditions is that our immune systems are pretty much rock solid. Jaxon's body just laughed at the swine flu. His fever broke Tuesday afternoon, and he's been fine ever since. I'm convinced that all of us have already had the swine flu at some point. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if we were all carriers of the ebola virus too. We might even be combining existing diseases in our house and making new superdiseases. It's gotten so bad that The WHO (That's the World Health Organization, not these guys) sent us a shipment of mosquito nets just to be safe. So bad that all of the cockroaches had to move out of our house because they were all getting sick. Hey, You don't know that it didn't happen.


Here's a sick Jaxon waiting for his prescription at Publix:

After Jax left, the chair at Publix started coughing

Trick or Treat..........

That's my boys!

Halloween has always been my favorite holiday. As a fat kid, I loved Halloween for the candy. Then as a college student, I loved being able to dress up in ridiculously hilarious costumes. (Some were better than others, of course. But I think Jesus may have been my favorite. Surprisingly, no one wanted to drink with Jesus, though. And no one wanted to pick up a hitchhiking Jesus at 3:30am either. Weird.)

And for the last couple of years, Halloween has been an excuse for Rach and I to go out in public in as little clothing as possible. (while going to grown up parties, of course. Not while we're trick-or-treating with the kids. Although there was definitely a lot of that going on around the neighborhood. I think 'slutty mom' was the costume of choice this year.)

And Halloween remains my favorite holiday because we still get lots of candy (still a fat kid at heart), we get to dress the kids up (always funny), and it's over by 9:30 (did I mention how old I've become?). The problem that I have with Halloween now is that it starts way too early. We had kids come to our door as early as 4:30! 4:30? That's ridiculous. If you're worried about getting your kids to bed on time, then stop trick-or-treating earlier. But don't make my kids feel like they're running late by bringing your stupid kids to my house at 4:30. I don't need the collective anxiety in my house to go up because your pansy son in the Thomas the Train costume goes nighty night at 6:30. Okay, I'm done. Sorry about that. Just had to get that off my chest. And I apologize if your kid went dressed up as Thomas the Train. I'm sure it was cute.

Anyway, on to our costumes. I think they all came out pretty good.

The Boys

Cole recycled my Leonides costume from last year, and I think he made some improvements. He definitely classed it up a little from last year's version.

Like Father, Like Son........well, sort of

Gavin went as a skull motorcycle rider, but it was pretty hot outside and he got pretty sweaty pretty quickly. Then he took his jacket off. So within 20 minutes of dressing up, Gavin went as 'Gavin With Gloves'. Jaxon went as the Incredible Hulk. He had been sick all week, and hadn't really started to feel better yet, so he was extremely reluctant to let me paint his face. Finally, in order to get the make up on his face, I didn't tell him what I was doing; I simply acted like I was brushing something off of his face.....repeatedly. Then he asked, "What you doing, Daddy?" So I showed him a mirror, and he got all excited about having a "Geen Face!" And if you don't think that I was thiiiiiiiiss close to painting myself green and matching Jaxon's Incredible Hulk costume, then you don't know me very well. I decided against it because I could never compete with his abs. I mean, he's even shredded up while he's sitting down:

Is it bad to be jealous of
your 2 year old's costume?

So Cole, Gavin, Jaxon, my parents, and I started going through the neighborhood trick-or-treating. Cole and Gavin were complaining a little bit about Jaxon slowing us down, so we decided to let my parents take Jax while I took the boys. Within 10 minutes of being on our own, the boys started complaining, "My feet hurt." and "It's too hot." and "This mask stinks." and "Do we have to walk the whole time?" So we headed back toward our house. And on our journey, one of the houses had this giant inflatable cemetery thingamajig. It was huge, and had an archway that you had to walk through to get to the door. As I was waiting for the boys on the sidewalk, I see the cemetery move up and down out of the corner of my eye. I look over, and there's Cole faceplanting into the grass. Then I look over at the lady still standing by the door, and she yells out, "Oooh, I'm sorry. There's a few ropes in the yard!" Cole then proceeds to get up and fall back down on his face about 9,000 times. It took him 20 minutes to get out of her yard. It was like watching Stevie Wonder go through an army obstacle course. Gavin and I just stood there and watched in amazement. High comedy.

Scarlett

Scarlett went as a witch. But she didn't want to go as just any witch. She wanted to go as a dead witch, so I had to do her makeup. And when it comes to doing someone's makeup, I'm about as useful as Obama in a toll booth. (Get it? Can't make change? C'mon that's pretty good, right?) So here's Doonie's before picture:

That is one sassy witch. Where's the Gucci broom?

And the after picture:

I seriously missed my calling. Because if I can make
someone as pretty as Doonie look like this....

The funny thing is, I didn't actually do her lipstick. I finished her makeup, but she said she still wanted to look pretty. So she put on some hooker red lipstick. Nice.

Tori

Tori didn't want to dress up at first. She said she was too cool for school. (Okay, she didn't actually say that. I said that. But she's getting to that age where she's juuussst about too old to trick-or-treat.) But then I told her that if she didn't dress up, then she didn't go trick-or-treating. AND her Uncle Keith told her that if she didn't dress up, then he wasn't going to get her an LSU shirt like he had promised. So this led to Tori and a couple of her friends scrambling around for last minute costumes. They decided to go with 'dead softball players'. So my dad cut a few softballs in half, we tied the half softballs to their heads, I masterfully painted their faces, and voila! Dead softball players. Although the softballs didn't last too long on their heads.

Without the softballs, they ended up looking like
Tammy Fay Baker at a charity softball game.

Racheal and Maxine

Rach and Maxine stayed behind at our house to pass out candy and decided to have a little fun of their own. They hung a giant black sheet of paper over our porch to make everything really really dark. Then they put a strobe light behind it to make it kind of creepy. Then they put one of our barstools on the porch with a candy bowl on top. Then they crouched behind the front door and front window and waited for people to walk up to the house. Whenever someone would reach into the candy bowl, Rach and Maxine would scream as loud as they could and bang on the door and the window. And I'm not talking about just a normal little scream. I mean, these chicks were brutally loud. (By the way, I think Racheal and Maxine screaming to scare people is a little like putting horns on a crocodile. Aren't they scary enough? Couldn't Racheal just as easily have opened the door and done the crazy, one eyebrow raised look she gives the kids?) Anyway, they were scaring the ever loving crap out of people. As I walked up to the house, there was a rather largish woman at the candy bowl. Rach and Max started screaming their lungs out, and Rach reached through the window and grabbed the lady's arm. She turned around and Usain Bolted her ass out of there so fast that she knocked over three little kids on her way to the street. There ended up being a congregation of people outside our house with people saying to each other, "You go. No, you go. I'm not going. You go." It was absolutely hilarious. Just one more reason to love Halloween.

Report Cards, Braces, and Medical Jargon.............

(Editor's Note: I meant to post this last week, but never got around to it. My parents came in town, then had sick kids, then Halloween, then had more sick kids. I'll post some Halloween pics later this week.)



I am officially the John Kerry of progress reports. Yes, I did vote against the progress reports after I voted against them. You see, the entire time I was in school, I HATED interim grades, or progress reports, or whatever you want to call them. I absolutely hated them. They were pointless. Because I was notorious for slacking off for the first half of the nine weeks, then barely squeaking out A's on my report cards. So every nine weeks when it came time for interim reports, I'd come home with nothing but bad grades and yabuts. Don't know what yabuts are? Then you must not have school age children. The yabut is how every kid starts off any response. And not just about school, kids use the yabut for questions pertaining to just about anything:

"You have a D in Spanish?"
"Yabut the teacher said that if I do my extra credit, I can pull it up to an A."

"Didn't I ask you to clean your room?"
"Yabut I didn't know you meant right now."

"Did you just stab your sister with an ice pick?"
"Yabut she was making faces at me."

So anyway, I'd come home with my progress report, my parents would yell at me, threaten me, take things away, things like that. Then a month later I'd come home with my report card full of A's, and my dad would look at it, obviously expecting something bad, stare at it silently for about 5 minutes too long, take his deep slow angry breath and say, "What's with the 93 in Social Studies? You gonna pull that up?"

"But dad, a 93 is an A!"

"Yeah, but a low A. Don't be a slacker, son. You're better than that."

And then I'd think, 'Wow. He's crazy.' For the record, I still think he's crazy, but now he's just kind of 'quirky' crazy. I used to think he was like, 'Gary Busey' crazy. Like 'I'm gonna cut your tattoos off in the middle of the night with a fillet knife' crazy.

But now, however many years later, I've completely flip-flopped on my progress reports stance. I think they're great. I think they should send them home every week. (Which is actually already happening in middle school because their grades are being posted online. That's reason number 7 of why I would hate to be in school right now, right behind having to re-learn the Dewey Decimal System. Wait, what? They don't have to know the freakin Dewey Decimal System?! Well then how do they check books out of the library? What a crock!) When the kids came home with their crappy progress reports (You can read about it here), we were able punish them and get them to clean their rooms, and do all of their homework, and eat all of their dinner, and etc, etc, etc. It was kind of nice. And I didn't have too much reason to believe that their report cards would be much different.

Tuesday morning, the day they were getting their report cards, Tori tried to convince me that it was okay for her to get C's. She said that all of her friends can get C's, and because C stands for average, and she's just an average student. And that Drew Brees is an average quarterback. (Alright, she didn't say that about Drew Brees, but what she said was still just as ridiculous.) So I explained to her that if she is, in fact, average; then when she gets to high school she would have to get an average job to pay for her average car to go along with all of the other average student friends. She quickly realized my point and conceded to being well above average. Does anyone want a 12 year old?

Well I was pleasantly surprised when I picked her up that afternoon, and she showed me a report card with mostly A's and a few high B's splattered around. She said that she knew the whole time what her grades were going to be, but she just wanted to see what I'd say if she came home with C's. Seriously, do you want a 12 year old? (Just kidding, she just got braces this week, so I'm going to start getting her back by eating lots of candy around her. And maybe sunflower seeds. That'll show her.)

That's a report card smile

Alright, so we got one kid's grades in the books, but Racheal was at home with the other kids when they got off the bus that day. And when I got home, I was half expecting to walk into a Gitmo type atmosphere. But it was quite the pleasant surprise to see their happy little faces when I walked in. Scarlett got mostly 3's with a couple of 2's (3's mean she's beyond a 2nd grade level, 2's mean she's at a 2nd grade level), Cole brought up his grades to all A's and B's, and Gavin was a couple of points away from straight A's. The only 2 B's that he got were a 91 and a 92. I mean, this could quite possibly be the biggest one year turn around ever. Bigger than last year's Miami Dolphins. Last year, Gavin didn't feel comfortable reading ANYTHING. He hated it. It was like pulling teeth. (Which he coincidentally had to have done the other day, but I digress). But this is how far he's come: The other night, I was sitting on the couch studying my MCAT flashcards (Oh, by the way, I'm studying to become a doctor), and Gavin comes over and sits down next to me to see what I was doing. So I explained to him how I was studying, and he asked if he could help. So he started reading the flashcards to me, and pronouncing words like 'mitochondrial membrane' and 'homologous chromosomes' and stuff like that. It was really cool. If this were baseball, people would start making HGH and PED innuendos.

So there you go. The kids get to go trick or treating. And I get to keep using phrases like, "A 91? C'mon, you can do better than that!" and "Well your room isn't going to clean itself, now is it?" and "Next time you leave the light on, I'm going to make you pay the light bill" (FYI, Before having kids, I had never referred to our electric bill as a 'light bill', but this is one of those little things that you do that you said you would never do). It's all part of my slow painful metamorphosis into my parents.

Ohmmmmmmmmmmm.....Ohhhmmmmmmmmmmm............

Lance Armstrong won 7 Tour de Frances (Plural? Tours de France? Tour des Frances? Tour de Franci? Who cares. Let the French complain, "Ohh, stoopid Amedicans. Caant even pwonounce ouwr pwurals. Dey aw soo stoopid. Wif zer beleafz dat dey aw zo vedy much beder zan uus!") with only 1 testicle, but he had new blood each time he did it. Roger Clemons and Barry Bonds broke all kinds of records, but they had steroids to help them out. NASCAR drivers can go over 200 mph, but they have cars helping them out. (Okay, the cars are doing ALL of the work, so maybe that's a bad example). But the point is, all of these great accomplishments were achieved with some degree of cheating involved. I bring this up because I may or may not be in the middle of pulling off the greatest achievement of my lifetime. I think this might be my white whale. My swan song. And it's taking every ounce of self control to accomplish it without cheating. It would be so much easier to just cheat and get it over with. But I'm staying strong. Even if it is going to cost me my sanity. Or Racheal's sanity. Or everyone in the house's sanity.

Of course, if you've read this blog at all, you could have guessed that I'm talking about doing a social studies project with Cole. He has a project to do on Leif Ericson (Spelling? Leif Ericson? Leif Ericcson? Leif Erikson? Eh, who cares. Let Sven and the Nordiques complain, "Yaa, fer sure. Oudin pronuncin Leif Ericson wrongin. Nyurgen Flurgen.") He's had over a month to do it, it's due this Friday, and we've spent 742 hours on it. That may be an exaggeration, but I'm pretty sure it isn't. Anyway, he couldn't have picked an easier explorer? Columbus maybe? Magellan? That guy from Man vs. Wild? I mean, Columbus has got a whole freakin day! There ain't no frazzlin Leif Erikson day, I'll tell you that. But that's beside the point. I honestly think I could've gotten the stupid cat to do this project faster than Cole. Or even our new pet spider.

I should get Racheal and Keith to figure out
if this spider can hold a pencil

It's gotten to the point where it is taking Cole longer to do this report, than it took freakin Leif Ericcson to discover Newfoundland. I probably could've taken Cole to Norway, shown him Ericson's house, retraced Leif Ericsson's steps, and embarked on a Norwegian cruise by now. Can you tell how frustrated I am? Maybe this will explain the frustration a little more.

Do you ever go pump your gas? But maybe you want to clean out your car a little while the gas is pumping? So you rig your gas cap in the handle to keep pumping gas while you're cleaning out your car? But as soon as you walk away, the pump somehow stops pumping? So you've got to keep going back to set up the gas cap back in the handle? And it works for a second? But every time you walk away, it stops again, and it becomes completely useless? Well magnify that frustration by about 7 katrillion, and that's what you get when you help Cole do a project.

If it were up to Leif Ericson to get Cole to do this report; and he knew back then how hard it was going to be to get this done, I'm pretty sure he would've said, "Ehh. Nevermind. Let someone else go out there and discover the new land. It's pretty cold out there anyway."

And I could've finished the report for him a few thousand times by now, but I'm not going to cheapen this moment. I'm not going to set myself up for a situation a few years from now when the news media gets wind of this, and my social study project integrity is questioned. That would be like Lief Ericson using Jay-Z's yacht to travel to Norway.

During the course of working on this project, I think he's spent a total of 37 hours looking for a pencil, sharpening his pencil, and asking questions about longitude. I mean, this kid is a stall genius. I haven't seen stall techniques this amazing since I had to go number 2 in a Mardi Gras port-o-john. And I'm getting so frustrated that, in order to calm myself down, I'm imagining myself back to that peaceful time. Right there in that tiny little square of piled up poop. Ahhh, things were so much simpler then.

On another completely random note: This morning on my way to work, I saw a halfway homeless man (Halfway homeless is a technical term describing someone who is most likely homeless, but could just be a crackhead) limping on the side of the road wearing a Reggie Bush jersey. Is it a pretty good indicator that your 2nd overall pick is a bust when you immediately expect the homeless man to stop walking forward, take a few steps back, dance around a little bit, and then fall down in traffic? And another question: How did he come about getting the Reggie Bush jersey? Did some fed up, disgruntled Saints fan throw it in the trash? Or was this guy a productive member of society in 2005, and the Reggie Bush jersey purchase served as a catalyst for a downward spiral series of really, really bad decisions? I would've stopped to ask him, but I was scared that my expectations of his answer were probably a little too high.

The Nausea From Spinning Around in Giant Strawberries
Ain't Got Nothin on The Pain of Leif Ericson

Who's on first.......

One of the disadvantages of having a 'blended' family, (Perhaps blended isn't a strong enough word. Maybe pureed? liquefied? chopped? diced? scattered? smothered? Oh wait, that's WaffleHouse Hashbrowns. Nevermind...) is that no one knows how to refer to anyone else. Especially when we're in a car. I'm not sure what we were talking about, but we had this conversation the other day:

Me: No. Your mom said no.

Scarlett: My mom?

Gavin: My mom?

Me: Yes, your mom. No, not you, Scarlett.

Cole: Wait, were you talking to me?

Me: No, your sister.

Gavin: My sister.

Me: No, not your sister.

Scarlett: I know. Because I don't have a sister.

Me: I know that. I was talking to Cole.

Cole: Huh?

Scarlett: He was talking to you.

Cole: Who was?

Scarlett: Daddy.

Cole: Who's daddy? Gavin's daddy?

And around and around we went. I couldn't get them to school fast enough. It was like a really bad episode of Abbott and Costello, mixed with an episode of The Three Stooges. Cole and Gavin may have even been doing the eye-poking gag. Who knows?

On another note; I miss Keith. (Keith went back to Louisiana for a couple of weeks to work a concert festival.) I really miss Keith. Part of the reason that I miss him is based on how much he helps us out, how much we get to hang out, and how we get to watch retarded shows like 'The Ruins' together. But the majority of the reason that I miss him is because Racheal misses him. You see, Racheal constantly needs a project to work on. I mean, always. When she doesn't have anything to do, I come home to rooms without carpet. Or new paint on the walls (I should say part of the walls. She starts it so that I'll have to finish it). Or new appliances that need to be installed. Or plants that have to be planted (like this time or even this one). And Keith provided me with a bit of a buffer from these projects. And Keith really is the perfect buffer. He's about as 'go with the flow' as Racheal is 'I'll determine the flow'. And so he goes along with all of her kakamamie (love that word) schemes and projects. Here's an example. Last week, Keith found a huge spider spinning a giant web in our yard. We all went out and looked at the spider, 'Wow. That's a big spider.' And that was that. But not for Racheal and Keith. Racheal had to know what type of spider it was, where it came from, what its name was, what its kids names were, what its credit score was, etc, etc. And the really crazy part is: They spent the next 4 hours youtubing and wiki-ing lawn spiders! Lawn spiders?

And just because that A-Hole went home and they weren't able to take their weekly trip to the children's museum to take pictures like this,


I was stuck replacing our mailbox, putting up shelves in our closet, hanging pictures in the kitchen, and fixing our dishwasher again. And that was just yesterday! I'd like to say that Keith is dead to me, but I need my buffer back.

Calm Before The Storm?

Alright. I'm officially scared. This really makes me nervous. I really don't even want to write about it, but I'm afraid that I'm not going to make the blog quota that my editor (a.k.a. my mom) has set for me. But writing about this right now is kind of like talking about a perfect game in the 5th inning. And this woefully makes me feel like Joe Buck (Minus the Miller Lites and the vasectomy.) And you know why I'm getting that jinxing feeling? Why I'm so nervous? Because nothing's happening. I have absolutely nothing to write about. Jaxon hasn't pooped in anything other than a toilet for almost a week. Cole is going on eleven consecutive 'good days/great days' from his teacher. Nobody's grounded. Grades are improving. Their rooms are relatively clean. Altogether, the kids folded about 17 loads of laundry yesterday.....and didn't complain. A small part of me was a slightly disappointed that they didn't complain, because I had a bunch of witty retorts lined up for their bitchin. (Just kidding. About being disappointed. Not about having the retorts lined up.)

So here are a couple of funny little stories about everyone. (Note: I put headers on top of each story to let you know who that particular story involves. Just in case you have a favorite character and want to skip ahead.)

Jaxon
Like I said, Jaxon has been relatively good lately (emphasis on the word relatively), so I took him to the park. Here's some video.



Racheal and Keith
Keith's laid-backness finally came back to to bite him in the Kardashian. It's not his fault, really. It could've happened to anyone. Last week he was just about to go run some errands, when Rach came in and said, "Hey, I've got some errands to run too. I just have to go to the store. We should go together." Now at this point, Keith SHOULD have lit himself on fire and jumped out of the nearest window. I mean, let's pretend for a minute that Keith had the wherewithal to say no. And let's say that Racheal's errands involved simply going to the grocery for bread. And that Keith's errands involved going to the Bermuda Triangle to cure cancer. I would bet my life that Keith would come back first. So I could completely understood the look on Keith's face when he got home that night after being gone for approximately 9.5 hours. His look was a mixture of fatigue and confusion. Like he had been trying to box a caffeinated monkey for 9 hours. He started to tell me where he had been, but I already knew. He had been everywhere, yet gone nowhere. He had shopped for everything, but purchased none of his intended items. Essentially, he was in the exact same place as where he started. About ten minutes after he got home, and once I stopped laughing at him, I realized that Racheal had not come inside yet, "Where's Rach?"

"Oh, she just dropped me and Jaxon off back here. She had to go to the store. We never actually made it there." My wife, ladies and gentleman.

Tori
That same night, I had to bring Tori to softball practice. But before I did that, I had to figure out what we were going to have for dinner. Now that might sound like an easy task for most people, but you've obviously never been to our house. You see, I live with a swarm of locusts that would chew the sheetrock right off the walls if they didn't have so much paint on them. (Seriously, we've painted our house so many times, I'm worried about the dwindling square footage in the house. It's gonna kill our property value. Oh by the way, Rach wants to paint again. The whole house.) We go to the grocery store about 4 times a week, but it's never enough. And if you try to tell me that I should go to Sam's Club, I'll punch you in the face. Because it doesn't matter how much food we have in the house; no matter what, it'll be gone in two days. So saving 13 cents by buying a gallon of mayonnaise is not going to help, because that would just cause the kids to eat mayonnaise sandwiches for 37 hours straight until it was gone. I don't think we've ever had a bag of chips even make it to the pantry. We've even tried buying healthy stuff like fruits and vegetables, but they eat that too. A friend of mine gave me 8 huge boxes of family sized multi-grain cheerios because they made his pregnant wife sick, and my kids devoured them in about a week. Anyway, that night I managed to find 5 lbs of ground meat, taco seasoning, and a stack of small tortillas - Gracias a Dios por los Tacos!! (That's how you say 'Thank God for tacos' in Puerto Rican)

Anyway, by the time Tori got home from practice, the locusts had ravaged through all of the tacos. I didn't even realize it was happening. I honestly didn't know they were all gone until Tori came and sat next to me on the couch. And I use the phrase 'sat next to me on the couch' a lot like you would say 'Maine sat next to California on the US map'. Arms folded, staring straight ahead, looking like she was trying to make the TV explode with her eyeballs. So I asked, "Did you get something to eat?" And then it happened. She was taken over by a demon. No, really. It was as if Linda Blair herself were sitting across from me on the couch. Her head spun around 360 degrees and her eyes started glowing red. The only thing missing was projectile vomiting pea soup, and Uncle Keith throwing water on her, "The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!"

Tori: No! I didn't get anything to eat! There's no more tacos left! You know how much I like tacos! And you didn't even save me any! Uggghhhhh! Now there's nothing to eat!

Me: I'm sorry. I forgot, um -- (Yeah, maybe I shouldn't tell the lunatic preteen that I forgot that she didn't eat.) I, um, there's none left? Why don't you make yourself a sandwich or something?

Tori: I don't want a stupid sandwich! That's all we ever eat! Sandwiches! I hate stupid sandwiches! What'd we eat last night?! Sandwiches!

Me: Umm, Actually, it was leftover chicken.

Tori: What'd we eat the night before?! Sandwiches!

Me: Umm, yeah, that was sandwiches. But the night before that was meatloaf!

I really think that if she had a knife, she would have stabbed me in the neck when I suggested that she make a sandwich. But then five minutes later she was back to being our normal fun, smiling Tori. Ca-Razy. Man, I can't wait for her teenage years. I'm looking forward to it about as much as my first prostate exam.

Scarlett
Friday night, Scarlett lost another tooth. Normally, Scarlett will tell you that she has a loose tooth for three solid months before she'll ever let you near it, but this time, she just pulled it out. Surprised the hell out of us. Anyway, the Tooth Fairy in our house is in desperate need of an organizer. Our kids have got to wonder how the Tooth Fairy has been able to keep a job this long with all of her missed appointments. It's terrible, I know. I'm thinking of farming out Tooth Fairy duties to Uncle Keith. Is that allowed? That night, Scarlett fell asleep in our bed watching TV. Later, when we were going to sleep, I carried her back into her bed. Saturday morning at about 7, Scarlett came into our room, crying like someone just told her they didn't like her shoes. Through her intermittent sobs, I was able to decipher that she was mad at me because I moved her while she was sleeping, and that the Tooth Fairy didn't know where she was, and that she'd never be able to get her money. She told me that she put the tooth under the pillow that she had been sleeping on in our room (Racheal's pillow). So I go back into our room, frantically looking for the tooth, bouncing Racheal's sleeping head around the pillow like Weekend At Bernie's 3. I found nothing. After ensuring Scarlett that we'd find it, and the Tooth Fairy would be back tomorrow, she mentioned that the tooth was IN the pillow case. So I snuck back upstairs, grabbed the tooth from inside Bernie's pillow, and inserted a five dollar bill. A little while later, I told Scarlett that she should double check the pillowcase, because maybe the Tooth Fairy put it IN the pillowcase. Sure enough, she came back down with the money, and a snarky look on her face. So then I had to listen to 15 minutes of 'I told you so's and 'I can't believe you didn't know where it was's from a 7 year old, while I made excuses like, "Well I guess she must've taken the tooth before I moved you." Man, I can't wait until she's a teenager.

Cole and Gavin
I took the boys to the gym with me yesterday so they could play basketball while I worked out. I had planned on just working out, but we ended up playing 1 on 2 basketball for almost an hour. It was the first time that I was able to bring just Cole and Gavin, and didn't have to worry about them fighting with Scarlett, or have to deal with Jaxon eating the basketballs. And coincidentally, it was the first time we were able to play a semi-real game of basketball. I was showing them how to run a trap, how to play defense, how to make the defense guard you before you pass the ball, how to take open shots, etc, etc. And they were listening to everything. And it wasn't just Gavin. Because Gavin would run himself into a brick wall for 2 straight hours if you told him to. But Cole was listening too. At one point, I had a rough time getting around a pair of 9 year olds. I mean, I still whooped up on them. I haven't fallen off THAT far. But they made me work for it. I definitely need to find a way to get the two of them on their own more often.

Maxine
Yesterday in church, we sat behind a bunch of aggravating, disrespectful teenagers. They were being typical teenagers; snapping each other's bra straps, texting, talking, slapping each other. Just being outright annoying. And they just so happened to be sitting directly in front of Maxine. And if you know Maxine, you know that she's got the same amount of patience as Michael Jackson's doctor. At one point, one of the teenage boys leaned back to stretch, and in one quick motion, Maxine slapped the kid's hands and apologized for it all at the same time. It was quite impressive, really. We eventually had to make her move seats so we didn't get ourselves kicked out of church. But then she was fine five minutes later, back to being sweet Maxine. Man, I'm glad I wasn't around when she was a teenager.

Familiar Topics: Behavior and Poop........

I've mentioned before that Rach is not exactly Bill Gates when it comes to tech savvyness. In fact, she's the anti-Bill Gates. Would Bill Gates repeatedly email you files to 'pdf', even though he has adobe pdf on his computer? Would Bill Gates try to get files off of his dead hard drive by randomly shoving cables into every open slot on his computer? (Seriously, she tried plugging anything that had a cord into her laptop. Even a hairdryer.) Would Bill Gates take video of his husband and son playing on a playground while holding the camera sideways? Ummmm. No. Because I'm pretty sure he doesn't have a husband. And maybe some other reasons. So you'll have to turn your monitors sideways to view these videos. (Just kidding, mom. Please don't call your IT guy, Kenny, to come turn your monitor sideways. Just tilt your head.)

Climbed up the ladder thingie fairly easy

This was WAY more uncomfortable than it looks



BEHAVIOR

So yesterday when I picked up Jaxon from school, I walked in and found Jax playing with a toy cash register. There were three kids crowded around him, lurking like vultures, waiting for him to put the toy down. I'm not exactly Nostradamus, but I could predict that this was not going to end well. And normally I approach picking Jaxon up with the sense of urgency of a bank robber. I try to be as nice as I can to the ladies working in there, but my internal clock is ticking the entire time. I've got to get out of there in less than two minutes. If I'm running low on time, screw it; I'm not going into the vault to get his blanket. So when I walked in there, and saw the palpable tension that the toy cash register was creating, I knew I had to make a quick exit.

2:00 - Notice the toy cash register situation while I'm signing the sign out sheet.

1:46 - Hurry over to Jaxon's cubby to get his things.

1:39 - Get stopped on my way to the cubby by random snot-nosed kids wanting to either high five or hug my leg.

1:17 - Shove other kids out of the way to pick up Ashley and give her hugs and kisses. (At some point, Ashley may have to be a character witness in one of Jax's trials. Have to do whatever it takes to keep her on our side.)

0:53 - Fight back tears of joy when I see that Jaxon got all smiley faces on his report for the first time ever. (Begin celebratory daydream of Jax and I happily running towards each other in slow motion with 'Chariots of Fire' background music......)

0:42 - Snap out of daydream and pick up the rest of Jax's stuff.

0:36 - Teacher tells me that Jax was well-behaved all day. I responded with, "I see that. This is the first day he's gotten all smiley faces." And then she said, "Oh....Really?" But she said it in the same friendly yet sarcastic way that you would respond to a six year old that just told you that the earth was round. "Oh....Really? I never would've guessed that!"

0:21 - "Alright Jax, you ready?" (I can see the vultures getting antsy. They start getting uncomfortably close to him.) "No. I playin with money."

0:13 - "You playin? Okay, but we have to go. Why don't you let one of these vult-- kids play with the cash register?" (Now there's a crazed look in some of the vultures' eyes. Like ravenous hungry birds.) "No. I playin."

0:06 - "Okay, let's go." (I scoop him up out of his seat just as one of the vultures grabs the cash register, and run through the door just in time.)

Phew! That one was close. As soon as I got Jax in the truck, I called Rach to tell her the great news.

Me: It Happened!! It Really Happened!! He got all Happy Faces!!

Rach: Yay! That's Awesome!! Well, I didn't have to work until late today, so I didn't drop him off until about noon.

Me: Oh.....And it says here that he slept from 12:30 until 2:00.

Rach: And it's only 4:00 right now.

Me: Sooooo.....what you're saying is that he was only there for about 2 hours?

Both of us: Ehh, screw it. We'll take it!



POOP

Jaxon's been doing a pretty good job of going to the bathroom by himself lately. Sure, we've had some minor setbacks, but for the most part he can take his pants off, get on the toilet, do his business, get off the toilet, and put his pants back on. Although his underwear goes back on backwards more times than not. The one thing that he does not do, though, is ask for someone to help him wipe his butt. So a few days ago, Keith was checking on him a couple of minutes after we sent him to the bathroom. Keith called me over and said, "Hey, is this normal?" I walk in to find Jaxon standing in the tub, with his butt cheeks pressed against the faucet with the water on. "I clean butt, Daddy. Look, Daddy, I clean butt. I clean butt." No, that's not normal, but very creative. He invented the redneck baby bidet.

Dr. Jaxon and Mr. Hyde........

I think this time he got put away
for wearing a PUMA shirt......
And rightfully so, I guess

I think I've mentioned before that the most nerve wracking 2 minutes of my day are the walk from my truck to Jaxon's classroom. I'm always half expecting to walk in and see him in a straight jacket, strapped to a moving dolly, wearing a weird looking face mask with bars on the mouth, creepily saying, "Hello Clar--I mean, Daddy, I've been expecting you." Everyday, thoughts like that go through my head. Well, everyday but yesterday. Because yesterday, when I pulled up, I noticed Jaxon walking across the parking lot with the 1 year olds. At his school, anytime the teacher walks the class anywhere, she walks backwards while holding onto a rope that has a bunch of rings attached to it, and each kid holds onto their own ring. Apparently, this is common practice, but something that I've never personally seen. (This is not too big of a surprise. There are lots of things that are common practice but that I've never personally seen. Like living in a house with less than 7 people. I'm sure it happens pretty often, but I've never seen it. Or like being able to make dinner with only 1 box of macaroni, and less than 2 lbs of chicken. Fairly common, just never seen it.) Anyway, it was strange seeing Jaxon, holding onto the first ring, walking with the 1 year olds. He's never with the 1 year olds. When I walked up, I could tell he was excited to see me, but he wouldn't let go of his ring. He knew he wasn't supposed to. The teacher told me that Jaxon wanted to go for a walk with them, and asked if he could help her take the 'babies' for a walk. Then he looked at me and said, "Walk with us, Daddy? Wanna help babies walk?" "Of course, buddy. I'll help the babies walk." So we continue on the slllloooooooowwww journey back to the classroom. As we're walking, one of the babies tripped and fell. The teacher grabbed her really quick, but asked Jaxon to lead the rest of the kids back to the classroom, and told the little kids, "Okay, now everybody follow Jaxon." So Jax turns around and starts walking backwards like the teacher was. When we got to the door, he even held the door open as the little babies walked through it. You could tell that he knew he was in charge, and he seemed so completely conscious of their well-being. It was the sweetest thing I've ever seen. And they must've been doing some sort of construction in the building, because my eyes started to get watery. Or maybe it was allergies. Or someone was peeling an onion. Or pink eye. In both eyes. After seeing all of this, I started to feel guilty for ever calling him a demon, and making jokes about his impending prison term. But THEN I walked into his classroom. When I picked up the clipboard to sign him out, I noticed a folded up green piece of paper with the word 'King' written on it. Oh boy. I've seen these before. They always put the bad notes on green paper. I guess it's better than a pink slip.....for now. So I open up the green piece of paper and scan through the 'Jaxon bit a kid' note, but I was distracted by what I saw underneath the green slip. Another green slip that had 'King' written on it. Seriously? Crap! So I open that one up, 'Jaxon bit and punched anoth---' but then get distracted by yet another green slip underneath IT. 'King'. You gotta be kidding me? So I shoot an embarrassed glance over at the teacher, who was quietly waiting for me to look over at her. Immediately, my nervous retardedness took over, (I have a tendency to say retarded things when I get nervous. I just hope I didn't pass this trait down.)

Me: So are these just backdated from the past few months? or.........um......?--

Teacher: Nope. Those are all three from today--

Me: But just three copies of the same incident? or.........um.....?

Teacher: Nope. Three separate incidents.

Me: Oh, right. Ummmmm. I uhhhhh. Sorry.......I uhhhhh.......we don't.....ummmmm.......condone.....or.....let......that's ummm.......Sorry again. Jaxon! Let's go, bud!

Whenever this happens, and the teacher has to tell me about some fight that Jaxon got into, I feel like she's waiting for me to confess that we're a family full of biters or something. It's as if she thinks that deep down I know why Jaxon is always getting in trouble, but I'm just not telling her. Like we're teaching him Jiu Jitsu at home, preparing him for the octogon. Or maybe she thinks that he's learning that behavior from home, and I'm a wife-beater. (But she's got that all wrong. I WEAR wife-beaters. I'm not A wife-beater. There's a difference. Besides, anyone who knows Rach and I's relationship knows that I would be the one on the receiving end of any domestic beatings) Or maybe she, like Racheal, thinks I look like someone who needs to be arrested.

This actually happened, by the way. We went through a DUI checkpoint one night on our way home from the beach. I had Keith, Gavin, and Cole in my car, and Rach was in front of me with the rest of the kids in her car. Of course, I got stopped because I somehow retardedly left my license at home AND didn't have a copy of my registration in the car. Rach saw me get stopped, then pulled over to the side herself. When the cop approached her car to see why she pulled over, she said:

Rach: That's my husband back there. He has some of my kids in his car. I'm just making sure he's not getting arrested for anything.

Cop: Why would he be getting arrested for anything?

Rach: He's a big, muscular, bald guy with no shirt on and tattoos. He looks like someone that needs to be arrested.

Cop: (Radioing back to the other unit) Use caution, unit 247.

But what if I passed on the 'face that people love to punch' gene? Anytime any of my friends started a fight at a bar, or even if it wasn't my friends that started it and it was just random people fighting around me as I minded my own business, I was always the first person to get punched in the face. Most of the time I was the only person to get punched in the face. So maybe Jaxon's fighting woes are my fault. Maybe they can be explained through complex DNA, Biogenetics, Genetic Engineering, and some other high end science stuff. Yep. Lets' go with that explanation. At least that way I'll have something to tell the teacher when she gives me the disappointed look next time.



On another note,

Startin to come together, Pepper....Startin to come together

I think I'm starting to feel a little bit better about things. Like things are starting to turn the corner a little bit. Like maybe the novelty of the new school year is wearing off, and we're starting to get into a routine that everyone can handle.

Or maybe it's because I got more than 5 hours of sleep for the first time in two weeks. (Jaxon didn't get up and get into our bed last night. At least I don't think he did. And if he did, Rach got him back into his own bed. But I'm fairly certain that didn't happen, because Rach didn't stab me in the eye this morning, or seem like she hated me even just a little bit.)

Or maybe it's because my brain is clogged with pounds and pounds of snot and dust boogers from the 22 hours of grout removal over the weekend. (Coincidentally, the grout removal marathon also caused my hands to cramp up so bad that I'm typing this with the dexterity of a muppet. I feel like Chris Elliot in Scary Movie. 'Take my strong hand...')

Maybe it's because the Saints are 3-0.

Or maybe it's because Jaxon came home with 1 smiley face and 2 ambivalent faces on Friday. (Which is the equivalent of the Detroit Lions winning a game. Actually, no. It would be more like Rocky I going the distance against Apollo Creed. Sure he lost, but at the end of the fight (when I pick him up).....and he's still standing in his daycare (and not sitting in his usual time-out spot)......and he shows off those normal looking faces (actually, the faces look kind of apathetic).......then he'd prove to everyone (but mostly just his daycare ladies).........once and for all (for this week, I guess)........that he's not just some bum from the streets (or Goose Creek).

Or maybe it's because Cole came home last week with 2 'good day' reports from his teacher, then followed that up with 2 'great day!' reports. (Although after playing a good bit of video games over the weekend, I noticed something different about him this morning. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, until Rach said, "Did you see Cole this morning? He had video game face...." And she was exactly right. That's the only way you could describe the look he had on his face this morning. Well, maybe not the only way to describe it. You COULD say that he looked at me the same way a dog would after it hadn't seen me in a couple of years. Kind of like, 'You look eerily familiar. I think I may know you, and something tells me that you're friendly, but I'm not quite sure. And I should probably know what to do in this situation, But I'm just a dog, so----Oooooh! I think I just saw my tail!" So I'm not holding my breath for a 'good day' report from the teacher today.)

Or maybe it's because Tori is bringing up her grade in Spanish. She's gotten 100s on every assignment since her progress reports. El espanol es dificil, mi culo! (On a much funnier side note, dangling Tori's carrot of a cell phone in front of her face has become quite an entertaining and effective form of punishment. Seriously, if you ever want your car waxed, or your shoes shined, or your taxes done; just let me know. I'll give you Tori's cell phone. They say the Egyptian pyramids took hundreds of years to build. Tori would have them done in a week in order to get her phone back. Of course the pyramids would look great from the outside, but there would be clothes shoved underneath them, dirt left in all of the corners, and they would fall over in a brisk wind. But she'd fool you long enough to get her phone back.)

I don't know, it could be any of those things. I'm not going to dwell on it though, because I know that this roller coaster doesn't just go up. One Jaxon poopfest, and this ship's morale is going down faster than Jenny Slate's career on SNL. But we definitely seem to be in a better place this week than we were this time last week. And I'm not sure why. Ehh, who am I kidding. It's definitely because the Saints are 3-0.

Welcome home, Daddy.....

Get used to that padded material.
It's probably gonna be your wallpaper someday.

In the last blog entry (Click here for a refresher), I outlined our new, fail-safe, fool-proof schedule. No problem, right? Umm.....Not so much. I left last Sunday to go out of town for five days, and left Uncle Saint Keith (That's his new nickname, by the way. Just get used to it.) in charge of making sure everything went smoothly. But me leaving Keith in charge was basically like having a guy come in to interview for a receptionist position at the Prison for Criminal Masterminds, and then having the warden say to him, "Ehh, screw it. You can have my job. I'm out of here." When I called him throughout the week to check on everyone, it kind of sounded like everything was going okay. Although it was hard to hear him over the sound of Racheal yelling in the background repeatedly, "Tell him I hate him for leaving us here. Just tell him. Tell him he's dead to me." My flight home on Friday wasn't supposed to get in until around midnight, but I went to the airport early to see if I could catch an earlier flight out of Syracuse to get back to my warm, loving family a little sooner. I managed to get the last seat on the noon flight out of Syracuse, which would put me in Charleston at around 5 pm.

When Keith picked me up from the airport on Friday afternoon, we had the following exchange. And since we're guys and we try to downplay everything, I'll put what we actually meant in parentheses.

Keith: How was your trip? (I couldn't honestly care less how your trip was. I'm just making small talk.)

Me: It was good. A little cold. We got done what we needed to get done though, so it was good. (I think I'm hungry. Wait.....yep. I'm hungry. I knew I should've asked for more peanuts.)

Keith: That's cool. (What? I wasn't listening. I was just trying to enjoy the first fifteen minutes of relative silence that I've had in five days.)

Me: Sooo, uhh. How was it here? (What level of horribleness did you have to endure while I was gone?)

Keith: Umm, well. It wasn't terrible. But I gotta tell ya. I was starting to lose my patience at the end there. (I was two seconds away from ripping my ears off, and sending them to you in New York. Rach was right, you suck.)

When I got home, a few of the kids seemed to be acting a little strange. (How crazy is it that I can say 'a few of the kids' and not even be referring to half of them.) It didn't take me long to figure out why they were acting strange, because Scarlett immediately told me that they had gotten their progress reports from school. Scarlett then shows off all of her check marks. (She doesn't get letter grades yet. She's upset by this. Because shoving check marks into her siblings faces isn't nearly as satisfying as shoving all A's would be. That's how we know we don't have to worry about her grades next year.) Gavin shows me his progress report, which included all A's and 2 B's. Both of the B's were above 90, and one of those B's was in the class that he got caught cheating on a test. Good job, Gavin. Then Tori showed me her progress report. A's, B's, and a low C in Spanish. Que? En espanol, por favor? Porque? Tu no quieres escuchen en la classe de espanol? Oh, Dios mio? So then we had this conversation:

Me: Sorry, but your grounded until you pull this grade up. And give me your cell phone.

Tori: It's not my fault. Spanish is hard......

Me: So who's fault is it, then? The Spaniards?

Tori: Nooooahh, I'm Seeeeeerious. It's haaarrrrrrd. (For some reason, she elongates words and adds syllables when she's trying to get something.)

Me: So when something is hard, you just roll over and die? Just accept what you get? And besides, It'd be different if I thought you were really trying, but I've never seen you open your spanish book. I've never even heard you say anything in spanish. I haven't even seen so much as you eating a taco this semester.

Tori: Yaaa-Haaaawwwww. I diiiidddddddd studyyyyyyyyy!

Me: Yeah, I don't remember that?

Tori: Rememmmmmmber? On our way home from school that day?

Me: Tori, it takes 9 minutes to get home.

Tori: Yeah, but I studied.

Me: Ohhhhhh. That's right! I forgot about that time! Nevermind, spanish IS hard! You're not grounded. In fact, here's the keys to my car and my credit card. Go buy yourself a poncho.

Unimpressed with her excuses, I turn to Cole's progress report. Here's how his grades played out.

Math 100
Science 92
Social Studies 75
Reading 89
English/Language Arts 76

And miraculously, his excuse held even LESS water than Tori's! Because below his grades was the letter grade breakdown.

93-100 A
86-92 B
77-85 C
66-75 D
<66 F

So Cole's explanation was: "But I really only got one bad grade because my English grade isn't a C or a D. It's somewhere in between. So you can't really count it."

What? Seriously? You had all day to think about an excuse, and THAT'S the best you could come up with? C'mon Cole, you're better than that. Blame Canada or something.

And all of this happened within the first 15 minutes of me being home. I think maybe I should've taken that later flight.

So let's just say that it has been a tumultuous couple of weeks in the King household. And I'm not even including the little ridiculous stories, like......

-Jaxon keeps biting kids in his daycare to the point that his class is starting to look like a Marv Albert hotel room.

-On Saturday, while I was upstairs doing laundry, Jaxon dropped a deuce in his drawws downstairs, and his uncle, Saint Keith, tried unsuccessfully to clean it up, but then came upstairs looking like he just swallowed a shoe and in a slow, somber voice, said, "Hey, man. I think I need your help." - (Which definitely happened) Judging from Keith's facial expression, I thought he was going to ask me to lend him a kidney.

- Every night for the past 2 weeks, Jaxon gotten up at 3:30, crawled into our bed, and kicked the living crap out of us. This is something else I'm going to do when he gets older. I'm going to go over to his house in the middle of the night, sneak into his bedroom, and just repeatedly kick the crap out of him until he wakes up. I mean, after I take a dump on his living room rug.

-Cole has been acting up at school so much that we've been getting daily emails from his teacher asking us if we have any suggestions on how to keep him on task. Rach's suggestion was to beat him with a wooden hanger. (That wasn't technically her suggestion, but we did set up an appointment with the principal to see if we could bring back corporal punishment.) And after talking with his principal and his teacher, we came up with a plan that I hope might work. We've given Cole a full pardon from being grounded. (If he were to serve out his current grounding sentences consecutively, he would be grounded until roughly 2087........And that's with good behavior.) Instead, we're going to go on a day by day basis. If Cole is able to get ready in the morning without us having to tell him 8.342 times to "brush your teeth, brush your hair, put your shoes on,- no wait. Put your socks on first-, get your bookbag, get in the truck", AND if his teacher gives us a good report from school that day, AND if he does his homework in a timely manner, then he will be able to play video games for an hour that afternoon. So far, so good. We've had 2 good days in a row.

-I caught Gavin taking $2 out of my wallet. When we asked him why he did it, he said that he was tired of Cole being grounded by himself all the time. And I half way believed him.

-We're trying to get Jaxon to be able to go to the bathroom completely by himself. So we told him, "Jax, go use the potty." A couple minutes later, I hear an excited Jaxon yelling, "Come see, Daddy. Come see. I poo-pood." And yep. Walk into the bathroom to see a big steaming pile of crap on the floor next to the toilet. But hey, at least we're getting closer.

-Despite the constant tattling and fight picking, I guess Scarlett has, by default, elevated herself into the 'most well-behaved' (that definitely requires air quotes) position. Her teacher had nothing but nice things to say about her, and she's making lots of friends at school, albeit stereotypical ones. We saw this on the wall outside her classroom.

The King-Sized Penitentiary........

You boys get used to wearing matching outfits............................

I have a feeling I know what I'll be doing from 6:00 - 7:30 pm every Tuesday and Thursday starting in the year 2029. At least that's what time I think prison visiting hours are. Hopefully, we'll be able to find a prison that will hold both men and women for all kinds of charges, including smuggling, fraud, grand theft, contempt of court, and assault. Because I hate to think that Rach and I are going to be stuck driving from prison to prison, all over the country, just to see our kids. That would just be horrible on us. Now yes, I'm kind of joking a little bit, but seriously, all of our kids are going to jail. Here's my predictions:

Tori

Prediction (2019):
At age 21, miraculously, Tori talks us into letting her to go to spring break in Mexico. (For the record, I can not envision any possible way that she can convince me to let her go. 2009 Jeff is saying 'Not in a million years!' But I think that 2019 Jeff will be so incredibly beaten down that he won't have the ability to make rational decisions. Just imagine a 39 year old with Al Davis' cognitive ability.) Not only that, but she even somehow convinces us to pay for it. I'm guessing that she uses some sort of Jedi mind trick. But she ensures us that she's not going to do anything wrong. Upon getting into Mexico, she's given a list of things that she's not allowed to bring back into the United States. She has this conversation with the border patrol agent:

Tori: But I really want to bring back some bootleg makeup and dvds and such.

Border Patrol Agent: Um, Really? Miss, that's definitely illegal.

Tori: But I really want to. Can I?

Border Patrol Agent: Are you being serious? No. That's against the law. It's a federal crime. If you get caught, you will go to prison.

Tori: So you're saying I'll only get in trouble if I get caught?

Border Patrol Agent: Um, well. I guess so. But I would strongly advise against it.

Tori: Okay, Great!

5 days later, Tori gets busted trying to 'sneak' 500 lbs of contraband back into the country, and gets sentenced to 3 years in federal prison.

Reason For Prediction:
There is a 'No Cell Phones' rule at Tori's school. In big bold letters as you walk in the school: NO CELL PHONES. We also have a rule in our house that you are not allowed to bring your cell phone to school. Yet right after Tori's school lets out, I get a text from Tori that says, 'Heyz! R U cmng to gt me? lol mk' So we take her phone away for a week. Then she tells us that her principal told her it was okay for her to bring it to school, as long as she kept it turned off and in her bookbag all day. Rach calls the school, and the principal says, 'No. I never said that. If she gets caught with her phone at school, it will get taken away.' Then Tori convinces me to call a school administrator who tells me that although cell phones are not allowed, it won't get taken away unless someone hears or sees it. The next morning I saw her principal standing outside as I was dropping her off. I asked him the same question, and he gave me the same answer. But Tori thinks that since she doesn't agree with the rule, and she really wants to bring her phone so that she can text us after school, that she should be allowed to bring her phone. Tell it to the judge.


Gavin

Prediction (2025):
As the owner/operator of a hugely successful custom auto shop (imagine the Pimp my Ride company), Gavin is making more money than he knows what to do with. He is approached by a seedy, greasy looking businessman who talks Gavin into letting him do the company's accounting. The swarmy businessman suggests some less than legal ideas, and Gavin goes along with it. Within a year, the IRS is raids the building and an unsuspecting Gavin gets 3 years for tax evasion and and fraud. He would've gotten a much longer sentence, but as soon as the IRS was investigating him, he turned himself in and admitted to everything that he had done. And luckily, Gavin gets out in 18 months due to good behavior. (See picture below for explanation)

Reason For Prediction:
Gavin got caught cheating on a test yesterday. His teacher, Mrs. Hale, called Rach yesterday afternoon, and told her the whole story. Apparently, Gavin and the other boy were looking off of each other's papers, and then handed in their tests at the exact same time with all of the exact same answers with all of the conspicuousness of a fart in a hot car. Mrs. Hale confronted the two cheaters, and Gavin immediately admitted to everything, while the other boy took the Barry Bonds/Roger Clemens plan of denial. Mrs. Hale was extra disappointed in Gavin since she gives out prizes every Friday to the week's best student, and that student was going to be Gavin right up until that incident. Getting a zero on that test would bring Gav's social studies grade from a 100 to a 50, and progress reports were due yesterday. So she allowed Gavin and the other boy to take the test after school. The sad part is, Gavin did better by himself than he did when he was cheating. I asked Gavin why he would cheat when he knew all of the answers anyway, and he couldn't tell me. I honestly think that he didn't know what to do in that situation. Mrs. Hale said that she could tell that Gavin was extremely remorseful, and almost in tears. So this morning, Gavin made this note to give to his teacher:

Gavin gets in trouble the least, yet he seems
to know the most about getting out of trouble

Cole

Prediction (2020):
As a 20 year old student at LSU, Cole offers to help an old lady across a busy Baton Rouge intersection. As the two get about half-way across the street, a butterfly catches Cole's eye. He stops to see where the butterfly is going, then notices a cloud that looks like a horseshoe. As he's staring at the cloud, a bird flies into view, and so he watches the bird intently. Between the butterfly, the cloud, and the bird, he barely even noticed that the old lady that he was helping was hit by a bus. From the bus passengers' perspective, it appeared that Cole pushed the lady into the street. So Cole goes to trial for manslaughter. There was enough evidence to get the case thrown out of court, but at the hearing, when the judge asked Cole how he was going to plea, Cole got sidetracked by a shiny nickel that someone had left on the floor. The judge assumed that Cole was being disrespectful, and threw him into jail.

Reason For Prediction:
Cole is a space cadet. Not like, 'Hey, Cole's gonna be an astronaut!' But more like, 'Hey, Cole's on another freakin planet right now!' To say that it has become an issue for his teacher would be quite the understatement. And this is a teacher who won Teacher of the Year for the whole state last year! And she's at her wit's end. She's had to email Racheal to see if she has any suggestions on how to keep Cole on task. She said she had to move Cole's desk right next to hers, and she constantly has to tell him, 'Cole, Do number 1. Cole, Do number 1. Cole, Do number 1. Cole, Do number 1. Cole, Do number 1. Cole, Do number 2. Cole, Do number 2. Cole, Do number 2. Cole, Do number 2. Cole, Do number 2.' I tell you what; If she repeats as teacher of the year, it would be more impressive than if the '97 Florida Marlins would've repeated as World Series Champs. She may want to lower her expectations a little bit. I would consider it a win if she didn't light herself on fire and jump out of a window after the first semester.


Scarlett

Prediction (2020):
An 18 year old Scarlett is driving home from school one day, when she is pulled over for putting her makeup on while she's driving. The cop is nice enough, though, and offers to give her a warning if she promises not to put her makeup on while she's driving anymore. Scarlett rolls her eyes, and let's out a frustrated sigh. The cop has no choice but to write her a ticket. At her court date, the judge decides to give Scarlett leniency, and reduce her ticket to a seatbelt violation. She tells Scarlett not to put her makeup on anymore, and Scarlett has the same reaction that she had with the police officer. The judge demands an apology, and upon Scarlett's adamant refusal, is forced to throw her in jail for contempt of court. The judge tells Scarlett that all she has to do is apologize and she'll be free, but Scarlett just glares at the judge with daggers in her eyes. Scarlett ends up staying in jail for the rest of her life simply because she is incapable of apologizing. Yet she offered up to disclose to the judge every crime that her brothers had ever comitted. And even some stuff that they didn't even do. She was even bringing up the stuff that I'm writing about now; which would make that 15 years ago. Now I'm officially confused. How did the writers of Back To The Future keep all of those facts straight?

Reason For Prediction:
Scarlett is just like her mother. The only thing that tops her beauty is her hardheadedness. She will not admit a mistake. She's like an incredibly cute version of Dubya. She would, no kidding, rather chew off her left arm than apologize to anyone. But she's quick to let you know when someone else is doing something that they're not supposed to be doing. 'Daddy, is Cole supposed to be eating with his fork in his left hand? Yeah? Okay. I'm just checking.....Daddy, Is Gavin allowed to ride his bike in the street? He's not? Oooh! Well I saw him doing that earlier!!'


Jaxon

Prediction (2025):
During his freshman year at LSU, Jaxon is fortunate enough to land tickets to the BCS National Championship Game to see LSU play Ohio State. As Jaxon is walking in, an usher takes his tickets to help him find his seats. Confused by this, and wanting to make sure he gets to keep the ticket stub as a souvenir, Jaxon headbutts the usher, punches him in the stomach, then laughs as he bites off the usher's nose. He misses the game, gets banned from the SuperDuperDome, and goes to jail for 7 years for aggravated assault.

Reason For Prediction:
Jaxon's babysitter had to move to Atlanta about a month ago, so he had to start going to daycare. Everyday when we pick him up, he gets a status sheet on how he did that day. There are three categories: 'I seemed happy today', 'I obeyed my teacher today', and 'I was nice to my friends today'. And there are three possible answers: Happy Face, Normal Face, and Sad Face. And pretty much everyday, he gets a Happy face for 'I seemed happy today', and sad faces for all the rest. It's even got to the point where they're having to find new places to write comments on the paper about what he did that day. Jaxon punched 2 kids today. Jaxon kicked someone today. Jaxon headbutted someone today. Jaxon gouged someone's eyes out today. (Other than the gouging, he did all of those.) This past Friday, they sent him home with a note that we have to sign and send back because he bit two other kids. And it seems like more times than not, it's because one of the other little rugrats took something of his. I kind of imagine the teacher saying, 'Jaxon, why did you do that?!' as he stands over an unconcious victim. He slowly turns to her, and in his 2 year old Clint Eastwood voice, he says, 'He took something that belonged to me.' Maybe that's not what actually happens, but that's what's going through my head.

Don't even think about taking these floaties from me.
I will gut you.

So that's where we're at right now. And if the kids want to go to prison, we're gonna show them what it's like. We're implementing a new schedule. And I mean a serious schedule:

15:00-15:15 Snack
15:15-16:30 Homework
16:30-17:15 Cel- I mean room cleaning
17:15-18:30 Recreation (As long as they are not currently grounded)
18:30-19:15 Supper
19:15-19:30 Female bath time
19:30-19:45 Male bath time
19:45-20:15 Teeth brushing and next day clothing preparation
20:15-20:30 Family Bible Study
20:30 Bed Time


We've had three weeks to get used to the new school schedules, so now we're ready. No more attitudes. No more 6 hours to do your homework. No more kicking the cat. No more arguing. No more fighting with each other. No more dirty rooms. No more standing around after we tell you to do something. We're cracking the whip, and we're doing it together as a family. Oh, wait. I've got to fly to upstate New York for a week for work. Ehh, I'm sure Rach, Max, and Keith can handle it. I've got Adirondack furniture to look at.