regular hours

it was nice to come home while the sun was still setting, plop down in front of a sitcom and eat a bowl of ice cream. it had a mundane familiarity to it and felt normal, yet ... like a life i haven't known in a long, long time.

out and about

festivall catfish.

up until bedtime tonight, we'd had a pretty good day. the weather was perfect — overcast and warm, just this side of hot — and the kids were fairly well-behaved for a three-block street fair downtown, part of our city's 10th annual arts festival.

while i'd have to call this day's events a success for all involved — the merchants and exhibitors, especially — i'm pleased to see the community doing its part to take advantage of all the amenities the occasion afforded.

while it's still a ways behind charley south's funky, artsy spoleto festival, our event is finding its level in that special urban appalachian way.

the ice cream portion of our giant, downtown luncheon.

kris' suggestion is more food vendors on the street. (i'll say the restaurants on capitol street made out like bandits; luckily the townies knew a little walk down the street helped you past the lunchtime clog at the hipster pizza joint and greek sports bar.) her recommendation is some sort of food fest to help feed the masses.

my only suggestion would be more recycling bins for all the plastic water bottles being brought/sold on the the street. that's it.

i saw lots of friends, enjoyed good eats, watched art both ready and in the making. it's been a fun week in june.

way to do the charleston, charleston.

super brat

super hero in a moment of reverie.

we are now in the age of how-to books at our house.

as far as the boy is concerned, we've moved past the esteemed john rosemond, who tried to help us make our terrible twos terrific, and are now learning how to parent the strong-willed child, given that's what we have now with a mercurial 4-year-old.

having reached the end of our ropes by way of — in no particular order — shouting, threats, spankings and time-outs (or calm-downs, as i preferred to call them), kris was recommended the afore-mentioned guide by drs. forehand and long.

first of all, of course, we had to get ahold of ourselves, which, given both our tempers, required no small amount of effort. (herein, i will say the amount of discipline to rein in oneself in the face of a tired, unreasonable pre-schooler hell-bent on violence has been herculean. my wife has been a model and example of restraint for me.)

we are through with week one — being attentive to positive behaviors — and are moving on to week two, which i think is ignoring outbursts, but i could be wrong.

all i can say now, at the end of a perfectly lovely day that ended on an exhausting, dispiriting note, is this method has at the very least provided for us positive structure in handling very negative behavior — it doesn't feel like we're ineffectual, impotent or spinning our wheels. we're learning how to handle ourselves.

i hope in a month or so, we'll have an arsenal that actually begins to yield some results. God help us.

the picture of health

in the car. about 10:20 a.m.

pre-colon blow. feeling 50-years-old and all that attends. 

update 2:24 p.m. — doc says pictures show everything looks good. celebrate end of 24-hour-plus fast with double bacon cheeseburger, fries and a root beer from five guys.

even when you feel fine, there's always that nervousness that maybe all is not what it seems. in this case, it was. thank you, Lord.

one of those weekends

spent this one hopping an archipelago of tiny islets of tranquility before being confronted at the end by an ocean of joyless, soul-sucking parenthood.

big day for little girl

baby before summer camp.

so the girl began summer camp today at her future preschool.

it was kind of an experiment in resolve, as the last time she was away from mama and left alone at the school, she cried for a solid hour.

kris made the mistake of lingering after baby was engaged in some activity, which led to a shower of tears when the girl caught sight of her mom.

after settling baby down and finding her new distractions, kris was shooed away. she worried the whole time at home that the girl was crying, but learned that it was only for five minutes or so before she bucked up and was "excellent" for the remainder of the day.

kris said baby seemed happy and proud on her return.

"there goes our baby," i replied.

and later on, i got this:

I think it's possible that we might be done with potty training.
— stuff kris sends (@textstogrumpnet) June 16, 2014

another dry diaper and control of one's bowels. if this is true, we really don't have babies in the house anymore.

things are picking up steam, now, aren't they?

the best of us

"just smile; you don't have to close your eyes."

another picture of my baby girl just because i like it.

with her brother running around with his mama, she and i ran a few errands this morning – recycling center, hardware store, sporting goods store  – and every time we returned to the car, she wanted to unlock the car.

we were finally home, when she wanted to unlock the house. she held my hand as we walked up the hill from the car pad and i wanted a shot of her in her hat. only took three tries before i got this.

(a few minutes later, as i was helping baby get the key in the lock, my brother called with some bad news about his dog)

the best/worst of me

portrait by baby. 23 may 2014

i keep remembering a term used by my friend and former colleague, monica, that i never appreciated until it was applied to me – wherein i nearly called off work because my baby boy was giving me such a hard time as i prepared to leave and drop him off at day care.

she said, "you let him get the best of you."

which i guess means that he took all that is good of me, or he took all i had.

well, three or so years down the line, it's still happening.

a minor infraction – swiveling a running faucet out of the bathroom sink and down the side of the basin – had me flying off the handle, which got him to screaming, which got me to setting him on the couch to cool off, which led to him kicking and punching, which led to me relieving him of some of his favorite toys.

i blame myself for making a mountain out of a molehill and i blame myself for passing along the gene of not thinking before doing something, which drove my parents – dad especially – batshit.

the boy was tired and is apparently sleep deprived and of course he's going to act like a mouthy, delinquent sociopath. (i'm going to look inward for causes because i'm slowly being convinced that my desire to counter violent misbehavior with an ass-whipping would only contribute to the problem. i'm not on that train yet, but that's because i'm holding that nuclear option in abeyance. if we've exhausted all the alternatives ... well, we'll see ....)

if my son is a reflection of me, then i guess i had better present a better image that i want him to reflect. my temper and my outbursts he's already picked up. (though i also think his impatience with himself must be hereditary. he seems to have my perfectionist streak.)

i am going to have to stop lowering myself to his level and reacting on his terms. i am losing the benefit of higher ground to fight a pint-sized guerrilla in the trenches.

two steps forward; one step back. child-rearing isn't for the faint of heart.