Saturday, March 24, 2007

Brace Face

I have always hated my teeth. My crooked snaggle-tooth mouth is the reason that I rarely smile in pictures. For some time I thought about correcting them, but was too cheap to spend the money on braces. Recently I began a teeth-whitening program, whereby I had some mold of my teeth made. Each night I had to cram the molds into my mouth after filling them with a gel that burned the hell out of my gums. The molds must fit snug, and are an exact impression of my teeth. Looking at the shape of my molds, which should have been horseshoe shaped but weren't even close, I decided to get them fixed.

This past Tuesday I spent 2 hours in an orthodontist's chair getting the brackets bonded to my teeth, and ratcheted down with a chicken wire. I now get to spend up to two years with these things pulling my teeth apart. But hey, it's worth it.

There is really only one downside of the braces: my eating habit. The first day I had them I nearly popped a piece of taffy in my trap. It would have been disastrous. In only three days I have completely changed my eating habits, consuming significantly less. How am I ever going to keep up with Jeff in an eating contest when I can't get most of the grub in my chompers?

Oh, and if you are hoping for pictures, you can forget it...

Friday, March 16, 2007

Run Like Hell

I went for a ten mile run Wednesday night. That's good enough for me. I think I am ready for the marathon. It's more than I've ever trained before. I just hope that Kate finishes before me. She's been running great distances for months now, and if she doesn't beat me, she might beat me...
The Importance of Enunciation

When out for a drive with the family unit if I notice one that one of my children has escaped from a seatbelt, I don’t yell and scream. I inform the kids that I am going to find the next policeman, and any child not strapped in will be turned over to him. Generally this empty threat works, especially when we actually see a Highway Patrolman, SL County Sheriff or Sandy PD.

Last Sunday I made my usual threat when I realized that Samantha was out of compliance. “Okay,” I said. “I’m going to find a policeman.”

“For who?” Samantha asked. Kate and I both looked at each other in horror, thinking that our three-year-old had just said, “F*** you.”

“What?” I half-yelled. She repeated herself a bit louder and to our relief.

This event is similar to a folktale from Kate’s youth. When she and her siblings were quite young, during a drive Jim said to Kate, “Katie, when you grow up and get married, you’re going to be poor.”
According to legend Pat, who was driving at the time blew a gasket, screaming at her children for using such vulgar language. After her tirade, which left the kids confused and I’m sure permanently scarred, Jim explained that he had said “poor”. Pat had heard “(a) whore”.

Saturday, March 10, 2007

What was once lost is now found


When Kate returned home from work this morning she was greeted by an emaciated and cold feline. That’s right. Exactly one week after he mysteriously disappeared, Eddie (aka Little Puddin’ Tater) returned. I was immediately cleared of all suspicion surrounding his disappearance. I asked Whitney if she was going to give Kate the $5 reward she offered, since Kate found him. Whitney said no.


Two Shameless Scavengers



Who is worse, The Bean or Froggy? I really don’t know.

Monday, March 05, 2007

The Best of Times, the Worst of Times…

I have always been told that when you have to deliver good and bad news, that the bad news should be delivered first. So here goes. Over the weekend we lost a member of our family. His name was Eddie and he was less than three years old. No, he wasn’t a valuable member of the family. He was more of the bastard red-headed stepchild, but his presence has been missed. Eddie was a white cat with orange markings, and sometime between Friday night and Saturday morning he disappeared.
The kids didn’t notice his disappearance, but I did. You see, I hate Eddie, which makes me the prime suspect in his disappearance. But I maintain my innocence, and have an alibi. Eddie and I got off on the wrong foot after I got sick of cleaning up his poop. Eddie was too stupid to drop the deuce in the litter box, and chose some very bizarre places to pinch it.
Kate and I wanted to get rid of Eddie (or ‘Little Puddin’ Tater as Whitney calls him) right from the get go, but Whitney was so attached that we couldn’t bring ourselves to do it. Now that he’s run away on his own after Whitney has become more attached to him it’s even worse than it might have been.
Whitney is in her bed crying about the incident, and has asked that we call out the Amber alert. I decided tonight that after 3 days he probably wasn’t coming back, and decided to tell the kids, who hadn’t noticed. I should have kept my trap shut. Whitney has made signs to post in the neighborhood, and has offered a $5 reward, though she has no money. I tried to assure her that Eddie is fine, and probably warm by the fireplace at someone’s home. That only made it worse, as she then wanted to call everyone and their dog to see if they had him. I convinced her not to call the dogs, as one of them might be implicated. I’ll have mixed feelings if Little Puddin’ Tater comes home. Kate is afraid that he is “a pancake” somewhere.
But what is worse than the fact that Eddie is missing is the dread I have of what’s to come next. It won’t be long before my mother-in-law shows up at our house with a replacement kitten. Just ask her about the damn gerbil that she bought….



The Bi-Pedal Bean

Last weekend before I left for my camping trip we took Lauren in for an EEG. The pediatric neurologist wanted to run the test to see if anything abnormal came up, which would account for the small seizures that Bean has. The test went well and yielded no abnormalities, but Bean didn’t like it a bit.


In order to complete the EEG the child must be asleep, and therefore sleep deprived. Kate had to have her at Primary Children’s Medical Center by seven in the morning. Lauren usually goes to bed about 9:00 and sleeps until 9 in the morning. The night before the test I kept her up with me until midnight, studying for my Classical Mythology midterm. She’s now a big fan on Pallas Athena. She was then awakened at 6AM, so she was running on half of the sleep she’s used to. When it came time for her to sleep during the test she gave no resistance.

The nurse placed 23 electrodes on Lauren’s head, which she didn’t appreciate. The nurse then wrapped Bean’s head with gauze, to prevent her from pulling the electrodes off. Bean looked as if she was recovering from a major head trauma.

Whatever happened during the EEG, it worked. I think that Bean was so traumatized by the EEG that she decided to start walking, just so that she wouldn’t have to do it again. I came home from my camp trip to discover that we finally had a true toddler in the house. She was walking all over the place. She is still a bit wobbly, and still walks like a duck, but she is bi-pedal almost all the time. I am very happy and thankful that she is starting to walk, and progress. I figure she was just being stubborn, and wanted to do it her way. She is the last of our kids, so she wants to give us a challenge…

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