I Think She Held It Together Quite Nicely

Trey Mancini hit his first Major League home run for the Baltimore Orioles, and his mom Beth was there to see it.
She was shocked, amazed and tearful, the exact reaction I would expect a mother to have. It was very similar to the reaction of Grandpa Matz when Steven had 3 hits in his Major League debut.



I promise you if any of my kids ever homer, majors, minors, high school or Little League, I will make her reaction look subdued in comparison.

I Would Have Shot the Parents Too

The tragic death of Harambe the gorilla at the Cincinnati Zoo is the direct result of negligence by the parents of the child who ended up in the gorilla enclosure.

Yes accidents happen. Small children do things and go places they are not supposed to. But any good parent would have rounded up their child before they even thought of getting close enough to the gorilla enclosure to fall in.
As sad as I am about the death of the gorilla I feel the Zoo had no other choice. A tranquilizer dart wouldn't work fast enough on an animal that large. Entering the enclosure, even a trained professional could have frightened the animal.
They did what they could to do save the child's life. Now if they could only do something about his parents.

Free-Range Parenting

A couple in Maryland, Sasha and Daniel Meitiv, are under investigation for possible child neglect for allowing their children to walk around their neighborhood alone.
The kids are 10 and 6 years old and were allowed to go to the park at 4pm and told to return at 6.
At some point during that window of time, a man walking his dog called police non-emergency because he was concerned about their well-being.
A police officer showed up and turned the kids over to Children's Protective Services.
That to me is bad enough, an alarmist douche calls the cops because kids are walking alone. It's not like they were toddlers, the older one is 10, certainly old enough to be responsible for himself and his sibling.
The only mitigating factor here is that apparently these kids are frequently walking alone in this neighborhood.
We also have a douche cop who showed up and couldn't determine that the kids were completely safe.
But the absolute worst part of this is that the authorities, police and CPS, kept the kids for more than four hours.
They didn't even try to contact the parents until 8pm. Two hours after the kids were expected home. And they didn't return the kids to their parents until 10:30 pm.
Too bad common sense didn't enter into the decision-making at any time or else the police could have taken the kids home, discussed it with the parents and avoid all this ugliness.
As someone who has been criticized for being a little too lax with the freedoms I give to Chase I side with the parents here.
If they feel the kids are responsible enough, and the neighborhood is safe enough, then they should allow the kids to walk to and from the playground.
Certainly I don't know if there are any other reasons to perceive these parents as neglecting their children, but judging from what we know, the neighbors should butt out and the cops and CPS should use their fuckin brains.

I'm Cured

Several years ago I was diagnosed with a peanut allergy, but I continued to eat peanuts, and only occasionally did I experience even a mild reaction. And even that hasn't happened in many years of eating Snickers and peanut M&Ms.
I have told Mrs. Poop and Poppy that I think I cured myself by slowly introducing small amounts to my system and they said I was nuts (pun intended). Basically that's what allergy shots do, give you a small dose of the allergen so your system can deal with it.
Maybe I am not as crazy as you thought. A new article in the Wall Street Journal says a new study contradicts everything we've been told about when to introduce peanuts to children. In fact, the study says, delaying exposure to peanuts may actually lead to those kids developing peanut allergies.

"The new study...found that 17.2% of the children who avoided peanuts until age 5 ended up with a peanut allergy compared with 3.2% of those who regularly ate peanuts..."

I strongly recommend reading the entire article to understand the study's methodology and how 14% of kids who initially showed no reaction to peanuts on the prick test (no that's not a JLeary test, different kind of prick) developed a peanut allergy when all they did was avoid eating peanuts.

Note: I am not a doctor and even if I were I wouldn't recommend force-feeding your infant a jar of peanut butter because in rare cases it could result in death by anaphylaxis.

A Threat to JLeary's Throne

Jleary is well known for being the undisputed undefeated king of movie lines. But in about 20 years, with continued study, hard work and perseverance this kid may be able to take Jleary down.

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Ok, so it's cute, a 4-year-old memorizing every word to Jack Nicholson's famous speech in "A Few Good Men" and for added comic value he's reciting it while in the bath and playing with his ding-a-ling.
But obviously the kid didn't choose this movie, it's very questionably appropriate for a child that young so it makes me wonder how this came to be.
I just have to assume the parents had this idea for a youtube video and forced their son to learn it, withholding his cookies until he memorized the soliloquy.
That kind of ruins the cuteness of this for me.

Mrs. Poop in 15 Years

This new Old Spice ad may seem kind of creepy to some, but to Mrs. Poop and maybe other mothers who don't like their sons getting older, it really hits home.

Shared Experiences

One of the basic things all humans want to feel is that we are not alone in this world. Someone out there loves us, cares for us, understands our struggles and is going through the same things.
Hence the phrase misery loves company.
It's why this great bit of stand-up from British comedian Michael McIntyre has gone viral. Because all parents experience these struggles when trying to get their children to do something as simple as leave the house.



Similarly, this clip perfectly sums up the inexplicable tantrums our children have for no reason.



This next clip is a little different, not as many people can relate. And it has never happened to me, but at my job there are TV cameras everywhere, and a giant staircase in the center of the newsroom. Walking down those steps always makes me fearful, not only of falling, but of falling, being caught by a live camera and have the video passed around the internet for everyone to laugh at.

When Your Kids Hand You Broken Crayons, Make Awesome Ones

Crayons break, that's just a sad fact of life. And when they are just little nubs they are very hard to color with. But instead of throwing them away I decided to melt them down and make new ones.

Here's how to be the coolest dad/mom on the block:

1) take a bunch of broken crayons

of the same color, or you can use different colors if you want to bring the funk to your kids' drawings

2) cut them into little tiny pieces

You can use a regular kitchen knife, the crayons bits will wash right out

3) Put the little bits in cans

I used soda cans, but tin cans from vegetables or soup work much better because you can see and stir your mixture to make sure it's liquid and uniform throughout

4) Melt them in the oven, depending on how many crayons you have this could take 15 minutes, or 30. You'll want to check and stir. I used 225 degrees, I'm sure you could go a little hotter, but 225 seemed right.

5) Pour them into molds. I used cheap plastic candy molds, because they are cheap. Let them harden for 15 minutes, less if you put them in the fridge. Julian did not have patience for this step and got covered in orange goo.

The other school of thought here is to go with silicone molds, so you don't have to pour the crayons (you do lose some in the transfer process), they'll melt in the shape you want them, but silicone molds that could withstand the temperatures of the oven were too expensive for this project.

We did some awesome Halloween shapes.

Note: the little stick on the bottom of my fingers is for where you would put the stick if you were making a lollipop. Some extra melted crayon oozed into that canyon. I wanted to break them off but the kids insisted I keep them and they actually made good points for coloring.

They color just like regular crayons.

The long, skinny shapes are the best, but they do tend to break. But when they do, you can just cut them up and make more crayons.

The Wussification of Halloween

Halloween night, after trick-or-treating and inspecting the candy for apples with razor blades, millions of parents and kids will watch "It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" on ABC. But not the wussy daddy blogger, Dad Camp, who says it's time to stop airing the Halloween classic. He says it is "no longer appropriate."
He says it has nothing of value for our kids. As if every TV show, movie and book needs to end with low music and an important life lesson delivered by Bob Saget.
In fact there are plenty of great lessons for children in "It's the Great Pumpkin."

1) Never jump into a pile of leaves with a wet sucker:

2) Always have important signed documents notarized

3) Keep your lips away from dog lips

In all seriousness, I do see his point. Were this show made today, parents would never show it to their kids, it no longer fits with our new standards and sensibilities.

The author says Charlie Brown is bullied, not just by the kids but the adults too.
I never saw the rock-getting as persecution, I thought it was just bad luck.

To me Charlie Brown is a poor unlucky schmoe, not someone who is picked on, after all, they are his friends, they tease him in good fun.

He even criticizes World War I Flying Ace the Red Baron (Snoopy) for all the war imagery. The Red Baron is a war hero. Does this guy shield his kids eyes when a man in uniform walks by, so he doesn't have to explain war to his precious angels?

Dadcamp says stupid and dumb are as bad as [fuck]. And maybe most new age parents would agree. But they're wrong. I think my main argument against his argument against "It's the Great Pumpkin" is: this is why we're raising a generation of wussies.

It's ok to expose our kids to "bad" words, and mistreatment of others. We can demonstrate how hurt Charlie Brown was by their words and actions, and teach them to be nicer and more inclusive. We can also show them how Charlie Brown handles the insults, he deals with it and moves on. He doesn't get depressed and cut his forearm. He remains hopeful that one day he will get invited to the parties, and that Lucy will let him kick the football. It's actually a good lesson.

But that's not why we watch the show with our kids every year.

The truth is we've spent too much money on Peanuts themed Halloween decor to turn back now.

Ready for the World

Chase turns 6 today. This has been a monumental year for him. He has learned how to read, how to ride a bike (that technically came when he was still 4) and how to swim. He played soccer (and scored a goal) and t-ball. He went to his first (and second) Mets game, and his first Knicks game. He went to kindergarten and in just a couple weeks he'll start first grade.
Every day he goes over to his friend's house to play. He gets himself dressed in the morning, he feeds himself dinner and he wipes his own ass.
He's becoming independent, which is great for him, but he still needs his mommy and daddy, which is great for us.
At the NJ State Fair earlier this year we bought both kids an unlimited ride bracelet and let them just go nuts. At a certain point we split up so Chase could go on some rides that Julian wasn't big enough to ride yet. One of them was a roller coaster that most adults would consider tame, but it was definitely daunting to a 5-year old. Chase was a little nervous but begged to go on it, loved it and rode it again, and again and again.
They had one of those cameras to take your picture on the coaster, but we never buy them because they're never any good. But this one we bought.
If a picture is meant to be a moment in time captured, to help you remember what you were doing, how you felt and who you were in that instant, then this one was certainly worth $10.
There's Chase at the front of the roller coaster, hands up, bravely ready to grab what comes next. There's Chase, eyes closed, a little afraid of what he might see when he gets there.

The Only Rule of Parenting

There are many different parenting methods and approaches that can lead to raising happy, healthy, successful, well-adjusted children. And there are many good parents who try hard and the kids still come out screwed up. There is no right way to do it, and even if there were, it wouldn't be a guarantee of success.
But I do have one ruling of parenting everyone must follow: love your kids more than you love yourself.
Put their needs ahead of your own.
That's it, that's the rule. Do that and you've got a good shot. Don't do that and you are pretty much Kim Kardashian and Kanye West naming your baby girl North because you think it's funny or because it will attract more tabloid attention.
I'm still holding out hope that this North West thing is a joke and they actually went with something more normal like Kaydeins. But for a girl who did a sex tape, got pregnant by a gay rapper and wore a tiny bikini while 8 months pregnant, nothing she does will surprise me.

This Could Be the Start of Something Big

I bought Chase his first baseball glove. I went to Dick's because this is the best commercial ever.



We bought a glove breaking in kit, somewhat more sophisticated than how we used to do it. We had a sponge and poured the oil on it, wiped down the glove inside and out. But a round plastic ball inside it. Then wrapped it up tight and put it in a paper bag.



He's not great yet, but he's very enthusiastic and wants to go out and practice throwing all the time.

90% of Success is Showing Up

I am against the wussification of America. I disagree with the notion that the only way to raise happy, well-adjusted children is to shield them from every possible negative occurrence until they are 18 years old. I am against the abolition of dodgeball. I am against games where everyone wins and no one loses. And I am against participation trophies. Until Chase played youth soccer.

Soccer, as it's played by the top professional in the English Premier League or Spain's La Liga is called "The Beautiful Game." It is the ultimate team game with 11 men working in unison, passing it to one another with such precision until one man has the tiniest opening to attempt to kick the ball past a goaltender who has cat-like reflexes.

When 5-year-olds play soccer, it bears no resemblance to that at all. The ball is kicked and all 10 (or 12 or 14) plays swarm around it. They kick at it until it squirts free or someone gets hurt (it's not an accident that they say shin guards are a requirement). There is no passing, just a lot of scrums and the occasional run where one player dribbles with everyone else, including his own teammates, trying to get the ball from him.

The first four weeks of the 8-week program were for training. The last four weeks they played games, if you can call them games. Chase was terrible. His skills were about average, again, only one or two kids per team actually know how to play. He was terrible because he was hardly paying attention. He was talking to someone, kicking the dirt, staring at a friend on another field. And when he did get in the game he acted as a personal bodyguard for the kid with the ball, running behind him, doing nothing.

One day when Mrs. Poop was at the game and I was home, she messaged me to tell me Chase was not even paying attention and that soccer for him at this age was a waste of time and money. Seconds later she said "never mind, he scored a goal."

As best as I can reconstruct it, Elliott "passed" him the ball and he booted it right past the goalie. He was thrilled. He told everyone. He was so proud.

And at the end of the season he got this trophy.

I understand everything you are thinking. There are no participation trophies in life. When everybody wins, nobody wins. Participation trophies breed and even celebrate mediocrity. I've said it all myself, and I still believe it.

But maybe we should put an age limit on tough love. At age 5 kids need encouragement. It's too early to separate the winners from the losers because of all the valuable things children can learn from participating in sports. Not just the development (work ethic, teamwork, socialization) but also in this age of obesity kids need exercise.

The trophy has provided Chase with pride. It made him feel like he accomplished something. And most importantly it's part of the reason he is so excited to start soccer again next fall. Plus the soccer ball on it actually spins.

The Incredible Shrinking Backpack

I guess Mrs. Poop put Chase's doggy backpack into the dryer.

first day of preschool

last day of preschool

But of course the doggy backpack is too immature for our kindergartner so this is what he will be sporting this year, and because of the cost, until high school.

Ready for the First Day of Kindergarten

But Mrs. Poop is going to have to get her own.

Red-Shirting

I have known for quite a while that CBS News was a hopelessly biased news organization. But I hoped in non-political coverage it would be a little more fair. I was wrong.



This casts parents who red-shirt as even villains who are trying to push their children into success in sports at the expense of other kids.

In our school district the cutoff date is October 1. So our August babies will always be among the youngest in their class.

We briefly talked about red-shirting Chase when we sent him to preschool a couple weeks after his second birthday, while some kids were just a couple months short of turning 3. Chase has done well in preschool and his teachers saw no need to keep him back. So he'll go to kindergarten in the fall as scheduled.

We were also contemplating it with Julian, who seemed in greater need of maturity, but lately he has had an explosion of language, and coupled with his enormous size, red-shirting likely won't be necessary in his case either.

But what if we felt it was? That should be a parents decision. I resent the implication that red-shirting is cheating, or somehow harming the other kids. And even if it were, why should what's marginally better for some other child supersede what you feel is much better for your own?

I also resent the implication that this is just for fathers who want their sons to be sports stars. What's so wrong with wanting your child not to be one of the smallest kids, to avoid bullying? Or for him to at least be good enough at sports to build his confidence, to make him be the first kid picked not the last, to make him feel an important part of the group instead of a benchwarmer. I think all parents want those things for their kids. Regardless of what that old fossil Morley Safer thinks.

Lead By Example

When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you hang my first painting on the refrigerator,
and I wanted to paint another one.

When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you feed a stray cat,
and I thought it was good to be kind to animals.

When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you make my favorite cake for me,
and I knew that little things are special.

When you thought I wasn't looking,
I felt you kiss me goodnight,
and I felt loved.

When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw tears come from your eyes,
and I learned it's alright to cry.

When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw that you cared,
and I wanted to be everything that I could be.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I was and I saw.
Thank you for all the things you did,
when you thought I wasn't looking.

-Author Unknown

Ballpark Etiquette

A very interesting situation developed in Texas earlier this week. Rangers first baseman Mitch Moreland tossed a ball into the stands. An older gentleman (in his 40s or 50s) catches the ball and gives it to his wife. The young kid seated next to him (3 or 4) started to cry. The couple was indifferent to his wails and kept the ball, even posing for pictures with it.
The kid was very cute and eventually someone from the Rangers dugout did toss him a ball, making his day and bringing a delightful smile to his face. But this doesn’t make the old couple villains. You are under no obligation to give up something you rightfully earned to a crying child. Especially to a crying child. Had they given him the ball just to get him to stop being a brat, they would have been rewarding a negative behavior and sending a bad message to this kid and all youngsters in the audience. Yes, it would have been very nice if they had voluntarily offered him the ball, but it is not a requirement. What if they have kids or grandkids of their own to whom they would give the ball? Maybe they just wanted the ball as a keepsake to their evening. And when this kid grows up and takes his own kid to a game is he going to tell him that he got a ball by crying like a baby until someone pitied him.

Racist Onomatopoeia

Every Friday Mrs. Poop takes Julian to "Storytime" at the local public library, it's basically 20 minutes of singing, a 10-minute story and 15 minutes of destructive free play. On the rare occasion that I am off on a Friday I have taken him. But I hate it for several reasons:
1) The old lady running it has disdain for children. She doesn't like when the children get up and walk around.
2) The songs they sing are ridiculous. "Hot Cross Buns," really? We really need to teach our kids 19th century British imperial songs? Better than slave songs, but still.
3) It's all women, mostly chatty women who want to be nice and friendly and talk to the new guy. But I hate socializing, especially with psycho-mommies.

Against my better judgment a couple Fridays ago while I called in Madness and Mrs. Poop took Chase to the circus, I decided to go to storytime. Mrs. Poop's friend was also going to the circus so I expected her husband to be there as well. Plus, he gets laid a lot so I thought I could score some brownie points with Mrs. Poop. But he faked an illness so I was the only father there.

I lip-synched my way through the songs until we got to "The Wheels on the Bus." First of all they add a verse about daddies saying "shh shh shh." Probably because the mommies never shut the fuck up. Then they sang about the money on the bus. And I swear they were saying "the money on the bus goes chink chink chink." I was shocked. I thought this was maybe a holdover from 200 years ago, like "Hot Cross Buns" and since everyone learned it that way, no one changed it.
I came home and googled it and it turns out there are two alternate versions, clink and ching. Maybe some mommies were singing "clink, clink, clink" and when combined with the other mommies singing "ching, ching, ching" it sounded to me like "chink, chink, chink."

I'm just glad Jeremy Lin wasn't there.

End of Nights

Today is the first day of the rest of Mrs. Poop's life. Today she set an alarm, woke up, got in the shower and went to work.
The sun was out, it was 6:45am.
After toiling for 10 years on the night shift Mrs. Poop has moved to days and will be working 7a - 3:30p hopefully for the rest of her life.
Coupled with a recent change in my hours (I'm 5a - 2p, by choice) we are now a normal couple.
Well, not a normal couple. A strange couple with normal work schedules.
This is wonderful, it is something we have all been waiting a very long time for. Over the past four years Mrs. Poop and I have done a lot of single parenting, often while very tired, to accomodate each other's work and sleep schedules.
Now we will go to sleep at the same time, wake up at the same time (roughly) and come home from work at the same time.
We hope will not constantly feel tired anymore. It is now safe to call our home at anytime between normal phone call hours (8a - 8p) and have no fear that someone's slumber will be disturbed.
The only problem: child care. It's nearly impossible to find a daycare to accomodate Mrs. Poop's sporadic (5 days every 2 weeks, 2 of which are weekends) and erratic (the days are never the same) work schedule. So we are turning to our parents (who are beyond wonderful and helpful to us) and a friend of Mrs. Poop's who is willing to watch our two rugrats in addition to two of her own.
A new page in our lives begins today. Or maybe Wednesday when we hope our kids don't force their new babysitter to send them back immediately.