I Like To Call It "Boo" Weeks...

This blog will be short.

Once again the Kalenator is gone for a whole two weeks.

I am not happy.

That is all - J

I Was a Freaking Powder Keg.

Secrets are not my strong point.

Sure, if a good friend tells my something important that they need not to be known… I can make that happen. But if I have some big news about my self, good or bad, I have a hard time zipping my lips.

Kalen is not much better. The best way to get news to relatives or fiends that are close to us is to tell her. Usually it takes all of five minutes of less for her to blurt it out. Say something like, “Kalen sweetie, now Carter is coming over and he is a really big goober. But we don’t like him to know. He’s a big sensitive goober.” Sure enough, about six steps in the door and Kalen would ask him, “Carter… what’s a sens..oh..trib goober? Mommy and Daddy J say you are the most biggest.” You can’t even hint to her what someone might be getting for Christmas or a birthday.

Now knowing this about me and the Kalenator, you should be proud that such a manageable number of you know what I’m about to say… I am going to be a daddy… one of my own biological making.

Yep. that means I had to “do it”… giggle... also note that keeping this inside for so long has caused tremendous gas pains.

And I am so very happy to finally announce it to the world.

So without any more ado than I’ve already used in the sophomoric “doing it” and gas jokes, here is a little introduction.

Baby Bo, here is the world.

World, Baby Bo…



If anyone needs me, I shall be on the rooftops shouting - J

A Shade Away From Having Little To No Value

Kalen can dress herself.

In fact she is almost self sufficient.

This dawned on me during the course of my work day. And the more I thought about it, the more it made sense to me.

She has mastered the art of micro popping corn. One more test and she’ll carry an expert level belt in cheesy roll up making. Watching the sociopathic manner in which she stabs her Capri Sun is almost chilling. If her four year old muscle development allowed for a more controlled lift of one gallon of milk… she’d have the preparation of a snack, lunch, and breakfast in her skill set. Were she to learn the existence and subsequently find a way to afford public transit, she’d have a way to and from the grocery store.

The fact is her mother and I are dangerously close to being a veritable non-necessity.

Of course she can’t read fully. And she lacks any smidge of an yearning to clean anything. Aside from having sticky hands after eating something covered in syrup, she’d almost not clean herself. Plus I don’t think she’d have a very good work ethic, therefore her financing the public transportation and grocery shopping would last all of a half day. But the fact is… she CAN dress herself.

This is still the central point to this blog and the proverbial “alley” to my comedic “oop”.

You see… as I mentioned before… this occurred to me while at work. It was hard not think about how well my four year old daughter can put on her clothes while half way through my day I was in process of turning my boxers around the right way.

You don’t know frustration until you have a painfully pressing urge to urinate and in haste you find your “pee” hatch is on the laying in wait on the wrong side of the world in an area it is completely unqualified for.

I’m just lucky that I got out of there with not so much as a piddle mark - J

I Clicked My Heels Together Three Times and All That Happened Was Ridicule Over My Bad Dancing.

I like new shoes.

Well to be exact I like most every new article of clothing. Socks, plain white t-shirts, boxers, etc. I like the feeling of "newness" when I put ‘em on.

But most of all, I like new shoes.

When I was young I loved getting new cleats. They gave me a feeling that these were the missing element to my making the big club one day. The same with hoop’s sneakers… I was sure that I was soon to start bringing the thunder in a tomahawk like ‘Nique... me the next "human highlight reel."

Just last week, on Black Friday, I got new shoes… new boots to be exact. Work boots if need for being more exact.

I watch Kalen get new shoes and new cute boots, and she loves it. She parades around in them, shows her new stylish kicks off to every familiar face she comes across. No doubt she thinks herself on the verge of some fashionista. I’m sure that’s the little girl equivalent to visualizing becoming a pro athlete.

But now I’m in my thirties. And one would think all that foolish head in clouds stuff would be done.

Not so.

In fact, with my new work boots when I walk, I think I’m taller. And I probably am compared to small sole's of my sneakers. But that isn’t it. I feel taller, stronger, and have much more of a manly presence. They are steel toed after all.

After a winter helping out in the warehouse I am sure that will pass and they will revert to feeling like the worn down souls of any shoes made for slaving away. But for now, I feel like a champ.

It also makes me feel good to know that at thirty-two I can still be affected by trivial things like new clothes. It gives me hope that Kalen may never have to grow up completely. She can have that Sex and the City feeling well into her thirties… or forties if one bought in Sarah Jessica Parker’s TV and silver screen body of work.

So I will enjoy my break in time with the new steel toed work boots. I will smile every time the Kalenator puts on her new brown fashion heavy boots. And we’ll go around pointing them out to anyone that will listen. Because we can and it makes us smile.

And don’t get me started on my new super warm work coat.

It’s like a suit of armor - J

Its 7:30, Do You Know Where Your Weekend Went?

I am, what I consider, an amateur fledgling writer. And as any writer, amateur fledgling or otherwise; can tell you laboring over topics and ideas is the most painful encumbrances the hobby (or job) has to offer. That’s why when a best friend’s Facebook update hit me as creative inspiration… I was thankful for not having to effort for once.

So to you AC, I say thank you. And as a token of my gratitude, I will try and heard my readers your way. Here is his link my faithful readers: http://wanderingsofagypsyking.wordpress.com/

Now go forth and follow him. As well as spread the word of us both.

With that out of the way, here is today's blog...

I wonder about Kalen’s weekends.

For the best of my memory, I lived for weekends as a kid. But of course most of my cognitive memory began around kindergarten or even later. And with school being a part of the equation, weekends had much more emphasis. Even as an adult, I find myself still living for the weekend.

But for Kalen, does one day have any more weight of happiness over another. I’d like to think so. I’d like to think that seeing mommy and me all day long has the most positive of impacts. I know it does for us as parents.

I actually can’t wait till she starts school… maybe even more when she gets a few years in. That way she can feel what it’s like to wake up to Saturday morning cartoons and mall trips with friends. As a kid, what better feeling is there than not having to learn for just one or two days? Hell, as an adult what better feeling is there than not having to make a living for just one or two days.

I can tell you that I love, I mean I LOVE being home with my girls and having no plans… but I miss the feeling of waking up and watching the Snorks, the Monchichis, and Blackstar.

And needing only those things to make my whole day.

Those were great times. And as a new dad (no more dad/mom for me!), I will do my best to remember that when Kalen wakes up and wants nothing more then to be lazy and watch cartoons. Maybe that will keep me from pulling the trigger on giving her some daily orders. As a kid she needs to be lazy from time to time.

Being a kid is hard, I think we forget that. Saturday morning cartoons… or whatever constitutes the modern Saturday morning ritual is necessary in order to make sense out of the week. Or even life.

So maybe we all should think about that. Or maybe we should all just reminisce about what we looked forward to on Saturday as a kid. That little bit of nostalgia can be a powerful thing.

Maybe it'll even help to explain why anyone would ever remake Land of the Lost – J

I’ll Take the ‘Helper and a Brutus of Bud Light

Hopefully this will be the last blog I begin by referring to my new job. I promise I’ll try and make that so. But for the most part I just simply can’t set up the premise without telling you that although I’ve chronicled the trials and pitfalls of my new career, I have yet to reap the spoils of my first paycheck.

That came yesterday.

It was touch and go before that… the wife, the kid, and the me have been pinching pennies trying to get by…all the while trying to keep food flowing through our gullets.

This is pretty easy to accomplish with the Kalenator; a Lunchable here and there, some PB&J, or maybe some leftover pizza and her engine fires on all cylinders. The wife and I are a different story, we’ve been doing whatever it takes to stay full. Sometimes that means not so big spending on Little Caesar’s (that place is a life saver), but mostly it means a metric s#!t ton of Hamburger Helper.

It’s funny, in college, Hamburger Helper was almost celebrated. It was a key ingredient in most of our male feasts. That and some beer made for the beginning (sometimes end) to many a great night. It was the choice fuel in our manly machines. Now I look at it as possibly the surf and turf of the mid to upper lower class.

If Applebee’s decided to change its business model to cater to the same demographic, they could virtually do an entire menu devoted to the “Double H”.

All that having been said, one of my most glorious achievements as an early twenties adult was a homemade variation of the ‘Helper called Hamburger Surprise. The surprise was that it was incredibly good. And I’m fairly certain it was not unlike rice in a sense that it took minimal amounts to fill you up… and it stayed with you for days.

It might be modern man’s most perfect food.

Just chaulk that up to one of my many great discoveries. I feel that one day I should publish a book of all my great accomplishments; Hamburger Surprise, the McNugget Happy Meal, and Dominos giving you a side of pizza sauce for dipping. Just to name a few.

These things could be my legacy to my offspring, something that would let them know their dad was a great man.

That is if they couldn't figure it out on their own - J

.32 Special

New job. New things to learn. New headaches.

I think the best way for me to illustrate my first two weeks at my new job for you is to compare it to being a catcher squating to catch ten balls from ten different pitchers throwing to me all at once. Sure… every once in a while I get lucky and catch a few. But mostly the majority of them go flying by.

It’s not all bad all the time, I just feel that maybe sometimes the information isn’t being given to me in a way that hardly anyone would ever catch any of it. And that makes it more then a little frustrating at times.

I could be wrong. It could be that I am just getting to be an “old dog”. And all of this info is like the “new tricks” that you just can’t teach me. Maybe it is way easier to teach a pup to roll over and speak then me about mitered corners and soffit. After all, it did seem way easier to start to teach Kalen the alphabet.

Or maybe letters are just a much cooler thing to a four year old then siding to someone thirty-two.

The sponges we call brains must be bone dry as kids… mine appears to be all soaked up. This could explain why 5 weeks ago Kalen couldn’t tell you one letter in her name, now she can practically write it out. I on the other hand, can barely tell you what color siding can be matched with what caulk or if we have it in stock.

Ok…

It isn’t as bad as I am letting on. I am actually picking some stuff up here and there. By the time it gets to be the busy season it should be old hat. It’ll be a while before I am an expert, but I bet I’ll be able to talk shingles with the best of ‘em by the first of the new year. Hell, I bet Kalen might even be able to spell her last name as well by then. But that’s cheating… her last name is only four letters long and two of them are the same.

She clearly has the upper hand.

Ah well... they say nothings lost or won, and what you learn is soon forgotten.

That sounds about right to me - J

That Empty Feeling of Having Not Ate For Days.

I would love to be typing a new and historically funny blog for you right now.

But I can’t.

Sadly the new job has been information overload in the first two days, and I just haven’t felt completely creative. Well… that’s not completely true. I did manager to sketch out this week’s Random Funnies while watching some mind numbingly boring videos... so at least I have that.

I promise to give you normal blogs in the coming weeks. I just need to find my "sea legs" before I can find my way back into my creative mind set.

In the mean time, thank you to my wife and daughter for my birthday. And thanks to all that gave me birthday wishes. And to the handful of guys that gave me a much unexpected rowdy time on Halloween. I am fairly certain that you guys lead me in a direction that caused me to crop dust two Playmates and Hugh Hefner in an elevator.

Yeah, I smiled as I typed that - J

Random Funnies: Antici..... pation

Sometimes talking to a four year old is an exercise in patience.

And while I’ve never been an impatient person in life… this can push even me to my breaking point. If she still does this into her thirty’s like my good friend Carter, then I might have to punch her in the throat.

For now though she is too damn cute…

So I’ve got that going for me. - J

My Pause For the Cause is Cause to Walk With Haste

I have a big hole in my bathroom floor.

I’m not even exaggerating a little, a big gapping space right where the throne should be.

But other then that, my Monday has returned to normal.

My wife is back at work and the Kalenator, the Murph and I are all relaxing at home. Our only real inconvenience is the trek we have to take across the grass, up some stairs and into a friend’s empty apartment in order to “lighten our loads”. Hopefully this will only be a one day problem. I couldn’t imagine my wife being okay with the same walk more then once.

And once is a stretch.

Pooh walk aside, this blog and this day mark my last week as a stay at home mom/dad. Next Monday (my birthday… mark it down) I start my new job. And regardless of the excitement I feel of over beginning a new career path, I also have a good level of sadness. I mean making money is beyond great, but the Special K and I have gotten a lot closer over these last few months. And I’m going to miss that.

Who knew that this lil’ monster would burrow right into my big cold heart and make roost. I’ve never hated kids mind you; I’ve just always enjoyed knowing that every kid I knew was going home to their parents at the end of the day.

Now I am the parent… and I love it.

Years of hard solo manly living has taught me to ridicule someone like me. Good thing I can whip my own @$$... it keeps me from giving myself too much crap. Since I am safe for now, I guess my next step is to change the direction of this blog, that of new working dad.

Also… only one person attempted last weeks lyric. He got it wrong, so no high fives. I am very disappointed in you all.

Oh well… it may not be early morning yesterday… but I still must be moving on - J

Random Funnies

That’s right! Today the Kalenator returns!!

Talk about a great week. I am driving again. I found out I will be working again… at a really real job. The lil’ monster returns. And that’s not even the crème de la crème for the week!

So hooray for me, hooray for my wife, hooray for Kalen, and hooray for Murphy (cause he feels left out).

But don’t worry. This blog will still be going strong. Maybe not as often as my already sporadic present schedule… but I’m still going to post up a storm, probably with even more insightful daddy nuggets for you.

I’m also going to add a new feature to the end of each blog. On each sign off I’m going to add a little something. Like a lyric from a song by a band I am down with. Or maybe even an obscure movie quote. It’s your job to guess what it’s from. And just so you know, I’m probably going unintentionally intentionally butcher most of the quotes… or at least add my twist to ‘em. The first three or so people to get it right will receive an extremely coveted and very prestigious high five from me.

And don’t cheat jerk faces. Santa will be watching.

All that having been said, I will leave you with this thought; I wasn’t born in a big city like say Boston or New York. But if I was… you can beat your sweet behind that I would rock mad styles and hop turnstiles.

So boom… and see you next week - J

Friday... err... Random Funnies

*Editorial Note: Due to reasoning I bet I don’t have to tell you, the name of the Funnies has been changed. Also, my birthday is right around the corner (12 days). Keep that in mind.*

Ok, so I am not moping around all day in a depressed slump... but my beating you over the head with melodrama serves as a set up to the next Random Funnies I post.

So there – J

"Don't you never say an unkind word about the Time!"

I’m not a person filled with regret. Maybe you are. But I’m not. I guess it could be because I’ve never been one of those people that have ever sat down and listed his hopes and dreams. Maybe that’s lead me to not feel like I’ve missed anything. No accomplishments left unchecked so to speak.

Some may say that it sad. And if they did, they’d be wrong. In fact, for me, it’s quite the opposite. I guess if I sit down and think long and hard about things that I would have wanted to accomplish... then for the most part, I’ve done it.

Wife? Check. In fact she’s a great one. Family? Got that too. So far I’ve a great daughter, not my biological… but she calls me daddy. Dog? Not the English bulldog I’ve always wanted, but a sort of a mini horse with a unique personality. So check there as well. Career? Not yet on that one. But I’m working on it and I’m still young, so we’ll call it pending. Sure there is also a house, car, and other material things like that… but we’re talking real spiritual life stuff. And I am all good there.

Now that you know that I’ve lived a life of fulfillment, I’m going to do my best and come up with all the stuff that I’ve no chance of ever accomplishing but would be pretty damn cool… single, married, old, young, or otherwise.

First, I wish I could have flown just once. And not fake machine assisted flying. I mean the real Superman kind of flying. How cool would that be?

Second, I feel like I missed out on winning the World Series with a walk off home run in game 7 for the Cardinals. I think I would have been pretty humble. The kind of sports hero you’d want your kids to idolize.

Also, if I could have been a special ops bad ass, that’d have been cool. Not like real life stuff, but more like a force of one kind of Jason Bourne guy. Only without the whole memory loss and troubled background thing going on.

Oh and if I could or did have a robot arms, that’d rock. Maybe something that would allow me to be super strong and shoot lasers and stuff, but still looked normal. Because I’m sure big shiny metal arms would be kind of a turn off to my wife.

My buddy John the Neighbor brought up once that if he could be any black guy, he’d be Billy Dee Williams. And I for the life of me can’t think of any reason to be anyone else. So I wish I was Billy Dee Williams for like a week… or maybe two if I got free Colt .45 out of the deal.

And not to make my wife mad, but if I could have hooked up with just one more woman other than her… it would have been Wonder Woman. Not Lynda Carter, but the REAL one from the comics.

After thinking about it I guess there are a lot of things I wish I had accomplished already in life. I could probably go on and on. So I will wrap this up and give you just one last regret for you to think about.

I wish I could have been a popular radio DJ in the 80’s... maybe someone on one of the urban stations, someone hip enough that he'd be the emcee when all the big acts that passed through town. That way, I could’ve just once said this, “Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado… Morris Day and the mutha’ F@$%ing Time!”

That would have been pretty sweet - J

Ogami Ittō w/ No Daigorō or Peanut Butter w/ No Jelly

There will be a slight change in my usual format over the next two week… for the Kalenator will be visiting her biological in Tulsa over that time period.

And with her, she took the soul of this blog.

Yep, her dead beat has caught up the last few months of kid payments (sort of). So he gets to see her. The length of time he has her company isn’t so smiled upon by her mother or me, but it is tolerated because it’s convenient for him since he’ll be driving this way the week before All Hallows Eve anyway.

Normally I am not so hip on anything “convenient” for him, but we’re dealing with the littlest bright spot in my life here… and I don’t want to take any chances. I figure if all parties are happy, then the balance is worth the sacrifice. But needless to say, I am already awaiting her return.

On pins and needles even.

So with that said, over this Kalen-less time, you will get my old school (for those that have followed me before) rants about almost everything. Don’t expect any sort of witty social commentary or anything. More so the blog equivalent of slapstick… that’s closer to my game.

So far I have a few ideas bouncing around my noggin. There may even be a huge announcement(s) over the next couple of weeks, earth moving possibly. Or I may just fill the time with mindless drivel.

Who knows, I may just keep my pants off all week and wing it - J

Friday Funnies (Late Again).

Being that the Kalenator is four, it’s probably a safe bet that if you asked her about twenty times what her favorite season of the year is… she’d have a different answer each time. Being that I am thirty-one, I can tell you that my answer one hundred percent of the time would be fall. Of course I’ve got years of great memories to back that and she’s only been out of diapers a shade under two.

Memories aside, I think my reasons for loving fall are many. I love the slight chill that creeps in late in the day. I love the color change of the leaves. I love Halloween because it was my mom’s favorite holiday. I love that my birthday is right around the corner. I love that football is going strong and baseball is in its second season. I love the smell of hot chocolate and people baking more.

And I love that I met my wife in the fall.

Like I said, neither Kalen nor I could tell you what season is her favorite or why. But I can say that sometimes when I’m standing in our commons area taking the dog out for his evening constitution, I can close my eyes and feel almost like I’m her age all over again. (Because of the season, not the dog’s b.m.)

And that feeling is why I really love fall.

Fatherhood as Sport.

I’m pretty sure I was in college or close to when Cuba Gooding Jr. uttered the popular line, “SHOW ME THE MONEY!” thus propelling him directly into his fifteen minutes of fame and an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor. Not a bad catch phrase, but it was another small line that my friends and I locked in after watching the movie Jerry Maguire for the first time.

“You’re Jerry Ma’F@#*ing’guire.”

We used to like taking the same emphatic slur and place it in between the syllables of our last names. Well, mostly just my best friend Big D and I. And really it was my name that worked best for the parody. So because of that, it became sort of my own private motivational rallying cry.

“I’m Jeremy Bo’F@#*ing’hannon.”

To this day I still say it from time to time. I’d like to say it’s gotten me through some tough times. But really it’s just something to make me and the same best friend laugh while consuming alcohol.

That is until recently.

In the past few months since becoming a stay at home mom/dad, I've unknowingly entered into a battle of wills with a four year old. And I seem to be constantly on the losing end, so a rallying cry is exactly what it takes to get me going.

It’s gotten so rough that I’ve even began assigning points to each time we go at it. For instance; every time I ask her to do anything and she does it the first time, I get 3 points. If it takes a second request, that’s 2 points. It’s a push for three requests and then -1 and -2 for each there after. If I have to raise my voice in frustration, that’s -5. Now if at anytime she starts doing what she’s supposed to just from an intense stare, then I get 10 points.

At first glance, you may think that the scoring system seems weighted in my favor. And you’d be thinking right. That’s because in the actual battle, she has the high ground. So I need any scoring edge that I can get.

You see my only weapons in this battle are logic and reason. Kalen’s bringing emotion and youthful irrationality to the table. Anyone who’s ever fought in a similar battle knows the weight of her weapons make it near impossible for any chance at victory. In fact, to this day I’ve only achieved one 10 point stare.

And that day remains the closest I’ve ever came to a win.

Luckily for me and in spite of all her childlike irritations, she’s also bringing innocence and adorableness as well. What I’m learning and what other fathers probably or at least should already know, is that the weight of those two things make up for almost any battle, any problems, any negatives that may occur through the years.

Well, I say through the years. But I’m sure when she gets to be a teenager, all that cute innocence goes right out the window and attitude and angst will become her weapons of choice. And then there’ll be boys… after that I’d say I’m probably doomed. At least I have ten or so years before that starts happening.

Oh… and if you want to know the daily scores.

112 to 2 her... on average – J

Concert Goers As Compared to Kalen.

Way back in July, my then girlfriend did me the honor of becoming my wife… and in doing so made me as happy as I’ve ever been in my entire life. She also, as my groom’s gift, bought her and I tickets to one of my favorite bands… Kings of Leon.

That made me as doubly happy as I’ve ever been in my life.

The concert was last Wednesday night and for the first time since I started following KOL, they were playing a large venue. My wife had seen them with me once before, but our seats at that time were left stage balcony. Not the best head on viewing of a band one would like, but still a pretty damn good time. This time however, she got tickets to the floor and planned our arriving to the arena in time enough to get up front and center.

Both of us knew that having standing tickets to the floor would put us in the middle of a crowd of younger fans. But even when you know that standing ass to elbow with people will no doubt lead to a few frustrating situations. It doesn’t always mean you’ll be ready for how high a temperature your blood will peak when it begins to boil.

Now as a new parent, I admit that I am not one hundred percent perfect at the job. But I do know a thing or two. And one of things I know is that when we as parents have a night away from the kid(s), you don’t want to spend that time with mirroring behavior of your four year old. Especially if those doing the mirroring are near twenty years in age.

I’m good with the trying situations Kalen can deliver… after all; she’s not yet half a decade in age. So when she jumps around ignoring her surroundings and refuses to listen when asked to stop, I can just lead her to her room for a “time out”. If she becomes a nuisance to the other people in our company, we can escort her out and discipline her. But when some random twenty year old hops around ignoring the fact that she is bumping into my wife or surges forward constantly driving knees and elbows into the other concert goers, its kind of hard to snatch them up by their arm and give them a stern talking to.

No… instead of a lecture, with the big kids you sometime have to hurl some well placed expletives and maybe even illuminate how many different ways you can crumple them like an empty soda can. And even then you’re sometimes better suited throwing rocks at a tank.

Call me an old fogey, or maybe it’s the peace of mind that comes with the happiness of fatherhood and marital bliss… but I no longer crave for the confrontational resolutions of my youth. Instead of expressing my anger at 20’somethings, I would much rather spend my night trying to reason with the Kalenator.

Who knows? Maybe we are getting to old for the concert floor. Maybe the pit isn’t for 30’plus people. Maybe the balding of my scalp is the literal manifestation of my dwindling tolerance for younger crowds.

Or maybe my wife’s Facebook status of the night echoed the evening perfectly, “idiot b***hes” are just one of the hazards of going to concerts.

I guess we’ll find out when next I go concerting – J

PS, the “big kids” also spent a significant portion of the night dry humping like kids at rave all hopped up on ecstasy. I just couldn’t find a parallel to that with any of Kalen’s misbehaving.

Friday Funnies on Sunday.

We all have our quirks. Some quirks are worse then others. Take for instance the “Hulk” quirk. (Come on…what else would I call it?)

Some things just change people. For me, it’s tequila. Give me a handful of shots and get in the line for people I am soon to hate. That’s why my intake is regulated by my loved ones.

Unfortunately Kalen’s is not as easy to avoid. She can be an angel all day, but the moment mom gets home and it’s hello Kalen-Hulk.

We’re talking day and night here - J

A Change in Production Schedule.

Normally when I sit to write this blog, it’s the day prior to it seeing the light. Today’s blog however was written just this morning. In fact, three different blogs were conceived this morning. The problem with all three though, they didn’t have the feel I was looking for. Maybe the timing wasn’t right, maybe I didn’t like the pacing, or maybe they just weren’t very good. Whatever the case, I decided to go with this entirely different and fourth blog.

My main fear of bringing this blog daily is writer’s block. Or maybe even more so, I fear that a daily pace might cause it to grow stale… for both you and me. So in order to keep that from happening, I plan on cutting back to a minimum of three a week including the Friday Funnies. Here and there I might add a fourth or even fifth post. But forcing out five a week might detract from overall appeal.

Look at it like this, currently Kalen is eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Given her choice, she’d eat one every day… lunch and dinner. My regulating her to having it every other day at best allows her to enjoy it more, and takes away the fear of getting burnt out.

Consider this blog my PB & J.

Of course it’s still good for any aspiring writer (or blogger) to have a deadline. So mine will be Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Basically any day Kalen eats a PB & J sandwich, I am posting a blog. In order to keep with the theme I could change the name to Peanut Blogger & Jelly.

Ok… maybe not.

Hopefully this change will be for the better and please continue spreading the word. Drop in on my Blogspot page and sign up to follow me there. And just overall enjoy what I am doing.

See you tomorrow - J

My Little Mata Hari, Sans the Exotic Dancing

In my house the numbers game seems to be my biggest obstacle. No matter how close Kalen and I get, she’s still and always will be mommy’s little girl. Whether the battle is a rousing game of dog pile or just some good ol’ bare knuckle fisticuffs between me and the wife, she will always have mom’s side. Sure I have Murph. But if the four of us squared off in a tag team cage match, he’d probably be more interested in chewing on the turnbuckle then watching my back. So in the battle of sexes of my house, I remain down by one… it might as well be one hundred.

I’ve read that in any war it is almost always wise to hide your strengths until the time is perfect, my two girls flaunt it blatantly. They plot girl’s night days in advance of me working at the bar. They shout their battle cry of “GIRL POWER!” when performing sneak attacks and frontal assaults. They send secrets to and fro across battle lines openly and daily.

And I suffer their audacity.

Although there does seem to be a glimmer of hope on the horizon. Better days may lie ahead. And no... I don’t mean my wife is carrying a miniature me in here belly basket. (Again, that is a blog hopefully a little ways down the road.) No, I am talking about a pint sized turncoat in the guise of a four year old with an angel’s facade.

In the last month or so I’ve noticed that Kalen listens to my request from time to time. I’ve managed to convince her to give mom a whippin’ when I feel she’s acting up. Sometimes, when mom is lying on the couch, I’ve even convinced the Kalenator to use the nuclear bomb of our house war… the wet wily.

Yeah, I feel like the tides of war are starting even out. I am gaining ground in this household. That is unless mom and daughter are luring me into a false sense of security. I might have underestimated my adversary, thus creating the perfect trap. Perhaps she’s training her daughter in the art of espionage, creating a pint sized double agent. The conniving harlots, this means that I now have to be further on my toes.

And these two have already caused me to have the toes ballerina.

Please see this blog as a rallying cry, a call to arms for the men of this world. Surely someone has seen this scenario play out. Someone has to have some words of advice. I can’t be on this island alone… can I?

Any help that could aid my cause would be greatly appreciated.

Thanks in advance - J

The First Funny.

With the closing of my store, a new source of income had to be obtained. Luckily I had already been working a couple or three nights at a local watering hole as a bouncer/doorman in order to help pay for the wedding and keeping that job became an easy option. The draw back is that it keeps me up considerably late on Wednesday and Thursday nights (sometimes more).

Therefore Thursday and Friday mornings I sleep in, usually no latter than nine am. Give or take thirty minutes.

On some of those mornings, Kalen doesn’t sleep in. What she does and how long she does it is a complete mystery. A few times I have awoken to find her staring at me. I can’t be sure how long or how intense of a stare I’m given, but I can tell you that it is slightly creepy.

This has happened to me once before in life. All the way back in high school (during my senior year) we had a sausage only New Year’s Eve party. Why it was guys only I can’t remember now, but for some it was their first time drinking… and first time puking from being drunk.

After passing out on the floor on one of the few clear patches of carpet I awoke to find my buddy Steve staring at me from the couch. Needless to say I was slightly shaken. So after falling back to sleep for about another forty minutes or so, I rolled back over and opened my eyes to find the same icy gaze targeted at me again.

Kalen’s glare although not as creepy, still causes flashbacks that leads me to the flop sweats.

When the Levity Breaks.

When I sat down three days ago and began typing out what would become the introduction to this blog, I had a certain vision of straight forward comedy involving a failed 30’something entrepreneur and a silly four year old whose happy go lucky exploits would paint a picture of both growth and zeal for life. The last two blogs haven’t quite done that as much as allow you to look at some of her characteristics through my eyes.

That's the funny thing about the creative process, “direction” and “vision” really aren’t words that always apply. In fact, as I type these few paragraphs, I am not even sure I know where this blog will end up taking us. What I do know is that so far (for me at least) these daily musings about my life intertwined with that of a toddler have been both therapeutic and entertaining. Sure there are some out there far more professional and have much better grammatical skills than I that might find it easy to sit in front of a laptop focused on a set goal and go from start to that goal with no problem. Apparently that kind of thing isn’t my bag.

I will admit that I do often have some sort of purpose. And I in a backwards way I almost always achieve it, but my path rarely goes from A to B. My creative process more resembles that kid Billy from Family Circus… kind of all over the place like spaghetti noodles thrown on a table. Call it A to F by way of purple.

In this respect I am probably a lot like the Kalen-nator. I am guessing that when she goes into her room (more often ours); she sets off to play one thing and ends up playing about ten different others. I often see her starting the day by playing kitchen, heading over to doctor, stopping off for some television, having lunch, putting her babies to bed and ending up dancing with the Jonas Brothers. Bottom line is that she is happy. Which I’m sure was her goal all along.

Since there are such similarities in her playing and my blogging, I guess I could always turn this blog over to her. I can see the changes now... each day you would be reading about Aunt Di Di, you’d be asking yourself what turtle she is referring to (the turtle being her new imaginary pet), and you probably would hear all about the latest misadventures of the iCarly crew.

Ok, so not quite Pulitzer Prize winning stuff… but on the upside there’d probably be fewer typos.

Speaking of, did you know that Joseph Pulitzer lived from right here in Saint Louis. It’s true, I looked it up. Now remember that some day in the distant future while playing some trivial game and this comes up: “Name two famous writers that lived in the greater Saint Louis area.”

Done for the day - J

PS, in case I have to hit you over the head with my witty implication... the other answer is me.

A Title More Distinguished Than King.

In the exclusive club know as male comradery there are very important rituals that must be observed. For example; you have the high five, the cup check, the taking of any shot placed in front of you, and really so many more that would be way too tedious to type. But of all rules in the charter, and the one that signifies ultimate acceptance, the nickname is the one that pertains to this particular blog.

I myself have had many nicknames over the years, some of them deserved and even cute; Bo, B, Boo, Boon Dock (my favorite), and Bo Bo. And others I certainly don’t agree with; Jerk, A-hole, Idiot and Football Bat. But of all the nicknames (deserved or otherwise), my favorite is the one I have just recently acquired… Daddy J.

Now a good nickname can not be given to one’s self. It almost always has to be earned. Any man that tries to name himself should probably be kicked square in the man region, so rest assured my privates should be spared. It was my wife bestowed this new tag on me. And in the beginning, this new name did not take.

In fact, it wasn’t even a name I felt too comfortable with right away.

You see, Kalen’s dad is still very much in the picture. I wouldn’t go so far to say that he is a big part of her life or anything… that would be a matter to take up with Missouri Child Services. (If the not-so-subtle cough of the words “dead beat” could be conveyed through blog, I would do it in these parentheses.) But between the delinquent payments and few obscenities hurled at my wife, he is still her dad. And growing up in a similar way, I know what it is like to have other men prematurely pose as “dad”.

Like her, I also know what it is like to have a dad that wears two faces. My father also wasn’t very supportive or helpful to my mom. But on the sporadic weekends that I did spend with my father, he was great. He made sure I always laughed and always got what I want. Much like Kalen’s dad does and is for her. That’s why as a kid (especially one Kalen’s age) it’s hard to know what or who deserves that title.

Sadly for mothers, children are not blessed with that kind of clarity for quite some time.

Luckily for me, in fact maybe the best luck of all (outside of meeting my future wife); she seems to have finally christened me into that role. In fact, that name flows from her mouth like a domestic beer from your favorite hole-in-the-wall’s tap. I can’t place the time or date that she started using it so freely, though it seems to have happened sometime around her mother’s and my wedding. This tells me that at age four, though not possessed with the ability to fully appreciate what goes on behind the curtain of her life… she’s somehow sensed the importance of and accepted her mom’s pledge to love me, and I to her. She’s stubborn, a pain-in-the-butt-just-like-her-mother, adorable, beautiful (again like her mother) and way smarter than any adult would ever give her credit. That is my Kalen-nator… another nickname.

So among the many names given, earned, and/or undeserved… Daddy J stands the most important, emphatic, and greatest name I could ever garner. If I were a betting man I would lay money that I’ll probably feel that way forever, or at least until I am graced with the name “Grand-pappy J”.

But that nickname and blog better be DECADES away.

And With that thought I bring this blog to an end, I here my nickname being shouted from the other room. No doubt lunch is done and we’ve got a puzzle to assemble.

See you tomorrow - J

And Imagination: Aged Four Years

As I sit on my living room couch preparing to pound the keys of my laptop while drinking my 4th beer, a couple of things occur to me. One, I am really excited to bring you the chronicle of my on the job training of fatherhood. And two… this 4th beer and these blogs are the closest to becoming Ernest Hemingway I will ever know.

That aside, I’d like to start today’s note.

I think it takes a certain kind of creativity to set out to write. Whether it’s a daily blog, a comic book, a novel, or hell… even some obituaries are fairly creative. (After all, how many assholes in this world are a “beloved husband and caring father”?) And that kind of creativity probably comes from the imagination we cultivate as children. I myself spent my fair share of fighting phantom ninjas. Posing as Rambo, running through the jungles of somewhere tropical that I wasn’t aware existed at the time; no doubt killing many bad guys with funny angled eyes. And that’s really just a couple of a myriad of things I imagined while I was a child.

And although I’ve devised this plan of bring you a blog everyday… I’ve lost a little of that imagination... we all have really. Well, sans the small percentage of those that manages to make a living writing, directing, and composing the books, movies, and music that entertain us. But lucky for me, I’ve asked and been accepted into a life with a loving wife and very imaginative four year old who’s just stumbled onto this most precious gift.

Today, for instance, I spent most of day watching a dance team competition, a dog being examined by someone much more Doogie than the fictional young doctor ever was, and seeing a young girl go to and get asked to leave school for multiple disciplinary reasons. Like watching TV, talking, and refusing to stand in “time out”. And here judging from her steady television diet of Disney Channel, I would’ve thought she only imagined school days filled with perfectly choreographed dancing and singing.

Who knew I’d have an imaginative hooligan on my hands?

It’s this kind of pretend play that makes me smile. In spite of her imagining an expulsion from mythical school… I mean it could be worse, she could be pretending to be on the poll. And it’s this kind of pretend that makes leaves me in awe at the innocence of childhood. Where as my day is spent worrying about when I will get a job and will we have enough money this month, her day is spent going to school, performing an examination, and cutting a rug.

She isn’t hindered by responsibility or a pile of bills. Although we spend an occasional hour dedicated to learning our letter and counting numbers, she gets most of the day to explore the depths of her own creative mind. The best part is, the more she grows and learns; the more her imaginative world expands.

I’m not sure at what age we stop fighting monsters and/or saving the world. (For us guys, it’s probably around the age we discover girls… phssh… women) But it’s almost sad that it happens. And although, I probably wouldn’t have started this self examination and reached this unhappy conclusion without the help of Kalen, I can’t be upset about it. In fact I can only be inspired. Inspired and happy that she invites me into her world, whatever that world may consist of at the time. That is basically why I started this blog, well… that and the sanity I mentioned in my last blog.

Now as I close this and continue watching the season opener of House (and after my 6th beer) I will say this, open up your brain from time to time. See a world that only a four year could. Maybe get lost in a childish book or even watch a cartoon. If you’re really feeling adventurous, go fight mutant monsters or attend a ball with a toddler. You may find you’ll enjoy yourself.

Me? Tomorrow I plan on going to a five star restaurant with the finest food a four year old could prepare.

And PS, maybe I’ll switch to whiskey…that’d be a tad more Hemingway of me.

The beginning of the Chronilces.

Many of you know by now that my store is closed, a very demoralizing blow to say the least. So because of this I now find myself spending my days searching, calling, and applying for what I hope becomes my next and final career path. And in these tumultuous economic times, I hope I discover that path way sooner than later…or its hello McBurger flipper.

But that really isn’t the point of this blog.

No, the point of this blog is sanity… or more accurately to keep myself sane while riding the roller coaster of life through another one of its valleys. Not the deepest mind you, just something else to rise above or out of. So… in order to keep myself sane, I’m going to be writing about my daughter. I hesitate to use “step” in front of that term since I see her more than anyone and in her life she’s too amazing to have anything “step” on her.

My plan isn’t to bring you a “Dear Abby” approach to telling her and my story, that’s way to much fluff. Instead, I plan to use an honest “adult” take at being something entirely new to me... a dad. I will try and aim for MY crowd of current 30’somethings. To try and keep them enthralled. Maybe even the younger hipsters. Hell, even the more straight laced crowd is welcome on my bus.

I hope to bring these stories daily; I’ve even toyed with the idea of dusting off the pencils and add a comic strip at the end each week. Who knows, maybe this will end up making me and my new family millions (and eventually put my topic through college). And every one can have the honor of saying you were there during my humble beginnings.

Now... as we come to the end of this introductory note, think of a few things for me. First, I need a clever name. Something we could put on a t-shirt some day. I would do this myself, but the creative process of spinning my daily life with Kalen into something entertaining is already turning my brain to jelly. Secondly, if this thing is funny and you do like what I have to say… tell the world. Shout it from the rooftops even. How else will I become a household name? Thirdly, give me lots of feedback. Without constructive criticism, one can not grow…or just call me an idiot if that’s more your particular brand of scotch.

Either way, I just want to someone to take notice of our journey.