Off Roadin' With Big Brother

Reed got to take his first Jeep ride today with Mason, they had a blast. Here is a pic...

You're gonna put an eye out

So today was garage cleaning day. Mason loves this kind of Saturday because he knows we need him out of our hair, which means he gets to spend the day at next best place to Michael Jacksons Neverland Ranch, Nonna's house. He gave us the rundown of his day when he got home, basically it was McDonalds, Swimming, Playing, Swimming, Playing, Swimming, Dairy Queen, Home.

Meanwhile, things were going great at home. Reed was in his walker, Jaime and I were working together putting up a new shelving unit, and right in the middle of our second chorus of Kumbaya(spelling), we hear THE scream. Not just A scream, but THE scream, the one every parent knows, the one where you instantly move, not think....move. Just as we hear the scream, we look and Reed is about ten feet away with his walker butted up against a box fan I had running on high. We saw his fingers through the front mesh and heard the "thathathathathatha" of the fingers square in the middle of the fan. I don't know who reacted faster, me or Jaime, but from what I can replay in my mind, we looked alot like the Chinese Circus girls. You know the ones who bend in all positions and one does a hand stand on the others head. That was us, a rolling ball across the garage to Reed. I didn't see any blood, so I was pretty sure the digits were still connected, but never the less as I grabbed him, I scoped out a soft place to land in the event I pulled a queezy wedding groom move (the pile of crushed drywall would do). Fortunately, the fans today are made of saran wrap and play-doh, so he was fine in a few minutes. Mason wasn't really an outlet poker if you know what I mean, but Reed will swallow every marble he can get his tooth around.

Mason's First Soccer Game

I've come to the realization that I am not equipped to handle kids sporting events. Apparently, not all parents raise their kids according to the same P.T.O.R (Please Turn Out Right) manual I use. One kid on the other team is pushing every kid down, his dad thinks it's funny. Another kid runs up grabs the other kids by the shirt and pulls them down, then picks up the ball and starts running. His dad gives him a high five every time. I completely understand why parents get in fights at kids sporting events. I'm not stereotyping or anything, just stating facts: The kids dad looked like he owned an I-talian restaruant and was decked out in New York Yankees attire. Enough said.

Before Blogs were Blogs

I started writing about dumb stuff back before blogs were blogs. But figured I would jump on board and do it the "correct" way now. Read my first blog which documented the conception, pregnancy, and birth of my first son Mason
(CLICK HERE)