Some Wives Have it All

...and then there's Sarah. 

from jared ewy   to sarah ewy date Wed, Jan 26, 2011 at 12:16 PM subject i just googled

"fox urine" because I was in the house washing Paco's water bowl and thought I smelled a skunk (but kind of sweeter).  So ran outside and took a deep whiff of the air.  Nothing.  I went back inside, started washing the bowl again, and smelled the skunk.  I went back outside and smelled both the dogs. Neither skunk.  Went back in, ate some chicken and chips, and finished washing the bowl.  It was then when I realized it was the bowl, and especially the sponge, were the culprits.  Fox urine, it turns out, is a little skunky.  I think the water bowl got a golden shower from a daring fox.  And then I realized that twice I'd handled the sponge before using those very hands to feed myself.  On an initial google Livestrong.com had a headline about fox pee and Weil's Disease, whatever that is, but I didn't want to learn anymore.  I'd freak myself out thinking I had pancake anus or whatever the symptoms are.

The bowl is clean and both the brave, astute dogs are lying in the sun.

--
Jared Ewy

to jared ewy date Wed, Jan 26, 2011 at 1:04 PM subject Re: i just googled

Okay, that is just nuts!

What is more disturbing?  The fact that Livestrong.com has fox urine info, or the fact that you described it as sweet smelling skunk.

Dude, what are those dogs doing letting a F-O-X in the yard!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I think this must be a crazy stalker fox.

Okay, enjoy the rest of your day.

-Sarah

If you don't have a studio one will be provided for you

just a glimpse into the glamour of my work

Jeticated

The results weren't what he'd hoped for, but Quin refused to take off his Jets helmet during the AFC Championship.  Here he eats as all true football fans should, through a face mask, and lectures his little brother on the benefits of making "a happy plate" and getting muscles.

Maybe no passing phase...this is him three months ago:

Daddy Daycare Diary Day 3

The mornings roll pretty fast.  But you gotta get out of the house.  The clock seems to turn with my energy.  When I'm creeping around the kitchen getting breakfast ready, it barely moves.  By the time it's nine, and they're on their third meal, things start picking up.  That's when I begin to want food.  The boys will have fruit, toast and sausage and go play.  Then they'll come back and have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  And then they want a snack.  About then I'm really very hungry. 

This morning we did our daily park trip and nearly froze to death.  When we got outside and felt the wind, I almost packed everybody back inside, but didn't want to waste all the effort of getting them in their boots, coats and hats.  So, yes, I'd risk the lives of the children in inclement weather to avoid watching any more Pixar (I'm sorry, you're brilliant, but I need a break.)

Mountain Trike.

I won't be able to do what I do for long.  I already feel aches and pains from my circus act of carrying Otto, pulling Quin on his trike, and holding Paco on a leash.  Sound impossible?  You should see it.  I look like a one-man band with no talent.  The only refrain I have is, "Paco!  Stop pulling. Paco, I'm going to slay you and make you my hat!"  It goes on in rounds.

We weren't at the park long.  The near-zero wind chill is the best parent of all.  No one complained when I announced our return home. 

Once home, it was off to Costco.  And I can't think of a better place to take little kids.  Sure, Disneyland, but tell me the last time it offered free food, and not once has any of the Costco associates put on a giant head and frightened me. 

The boys load into a cart and we roll around raking in samples.  Today we had pizza, chocolate-covered popcorn, some kind of fruit drink and some Brie that both the boys promptly wiped off their tongue.  Done.  They're fed and then we find some back corner where they can run around a little bit.  The good part is that Quin and Otto are pretty much over me ever buying them anything there.  There's no tantrum over the life-sized doll house or the full power laser cannon.  By now they must know that unless a little old lady hands it to them on a toothpick, they're not getting it. 

Today everyone was good.  The boys begged for nap time.  Otto didn't even make it out of the car.  He fell asleep with his arm sticking in the air in kind of a Nazi salute.  He might have been offering his chattering dad a hand to talk to.

Oh, we did have an incident this morning.  Otto pooped in the tub.  Boy that is violating.  I felt bad for Quin who was in the tub with him, and first noticed the breaching beast.  And then another.  He stood up and I actually asked him, "Do you want to get out?"  In a pale sort of way he looked at me wondering if there were some other option.  Otto batted at it and it turned on the waves like a toy boat. 

Otto is a bathtub squatter--never lets his rump touch the bottom--so I didn't think of his position.  The grunting had me ask him if he needed to poo.  He shook his head "no" and then "whoop!" up swam his little buddy. 

Really, it's not a big deal.  My brain, however, had me vexed and scared like it was complex math covered in spiders.  I did a couple of panic circles and then found a scooping device.  The boys were really more curious about the floater.  And when you think about it, with diapers quickly thrown away and potties immediately flushed, it's not often you get up close and personal with the human feces.  We're going to try to limit it though.

Now we're back home from Costco, the boys are napping, and I'm pretty sure Quin is going to wet the bed.  It's my fault.  I forgot to ask him before putting him down.  Oh, well, nevermind.  He just walked around the corner.  "Hey, your dad was just writing about your bladder!" shouts my face.

Daddy Daycare Diary Days 1

I took the boys to the aquarium today. With credit to Quin, he was great. Otherwise I was dropping a four letter word every ten seconds, "Otto!" Otto Otto Otto. Otto.

Otto has surpassed some growth benchmark by where he no longer needs us. That is until he ran up to the tiger exhibit and the massive tiger walked up to the glass.  It was nice to get to hold him for a little bit. It also might be selfish that a traumatized kid is a good thing.  Other than that, it was mind boggling watching our little baby take off and mingle with strangers. Two different people joked that they'd take him, and I'd say I needed at least an hour for lunch.  And everyone would stand there wondering if the other were serious. 

When you think about it, he's the smart one.

The aquarium was teeming with mothers. The sidewalk was lined with moms and their strollers, and then me. I did find one other father.  Otto and his 1.5 year-old son really hit it off, thus taking off in their blissful state of forward momentum, so we were left to share space and talk.  It's just hard being two guys with kids in a place full of moms and not look like married fathers. There's nothing wrong with that, but once we joked about it we gradually drifted towards different exhibits.

With Otto's scampering, and his near dive in the manta ray pool, it took the boys and I nearly two hours to get through the exhibit. It usually takes an hour, and that includes the trip there and back. The annual pass is the best investment ever.   Imagine how much I'd spend on drugs if I were stuck with them in the house.

I'm sorry Sarah that we called and you had to sit in your sterile work environment and hear the boys giggle. It's not right that I'm here and you're there, and not just from a traditional breadwinner standpoint. These guys are your boys, and I won't just say that when they're bad. I feel like I'm one of the guys, but to me you're their bastion of strength. Who do they call for at 3am? Thankfully you. And then I get to have fun with them. Not fair, right? That's why you get that extra connection, the one that has guys tapping their foot and wondering when we're going to get out the door. You're in the kitchen or the bathroom getting all the things I'd otherwise forget. Because you're somehow all tied up with their beings. You're in their head, their belly and, I'm sorry, their colon, and know them more than they or I do.

So get home, I'm sure once they wake up I could use the insight.

Guest Blogging for Jo.

What an honor.

Otto's Class Winter Celebration!

Everybody sing along...

...at least somebody should.