It's Time for Some Catsup!

Or is it ketchup?

Actually, it's neither.

It's time to catch up.

Yes Father, it's over a year since my last confession, um, post; yes, since my last post. A lot has happened. We lost another pet. Our dog, Sasha, who was 16. Both Mrs. Phez and I are surviving in this down turned economy, knock on wood - ouch! Lil Phez and Baby Phez are doing grrreat. Although Baby Phez will need a different name....today was his 2nd birthday! You'd think after a year, I'd have more to say, but baby steps I reckon. Here are some pics in the meantime.

Here is a picture of Lil Phez on his first day of Kindergarten. He loves school. He was named student of the month last month!

And here is the big two year old in a school photo taken last week. And yes, he is that cute and that devilish all rolled into one!

And lastly, here are some pictures of our recent home improvement project: building a door for our kitchen pantry. Thanks Home Depot!

Friday Shuffle - The Cold Fighters Edition

Okay so everyone in the Pheasant House is under the weather - to varying degrees. Hopefully Fred will shuffle us up a mix that will make us feel better.

Oh, and yesterday marked our 15th wedding anniversary. I love that woman so much. How much? I plan on showing her as soon as we both feel better and can send the little ones off with our friends. ::wink, wink::

(Note to self: Do not copy this blog entry into the blog journal album that you are keeping for the kids to see when they get older.)

Okay, so on to the shuffle - take 'er away Fred!

1. "Another Again", by John Legend. This song is kinda hot. He seems like he'd be a cool guy to hang out with.
2. "You Decorated My Life", by Kenny Rogers. Okay, this song seems fitting enough in recognition of our wedding anniversary.
3. "Overs", by Simon & Garfunkel. Um, this song is more than just a little bit depressing.
4. "Big Joe and Phantom 309" performed by Ray Bierl. When I was in middle school, I bought a compilation album, from one of those music clubs, that consisted of various trucker-type songs. I'm...not...sure...why. Since then, I've lost it, but I always remember this one song that I really liked. It would make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Well, this is the song, and thanks to Itunes, I own it again.
5. "Proudest Monkey", by Dave Matthews Band. I've got to get me my fix of DMB every now and again.
6. "Who Put the Alphabet in Alphabetical Order?", by They Might Be Giants. And my oldest has to get his fix of TMBG every now and again.
7. "Beyond the Sea", performed by Robbie Williams. A very nice lovey-dovey song. Not a bad version from a 30-something British pop star.
8. "Fury", by Little Big Town. I always read that song title as "Furry".
9. "Holiday" by Green Day. Great band! Fred is showing his diversity, wouldn't you say?
10. "Where Have All The Flowers Gone", by Peter, Paul & Mary. Now Fred is being a show off.

Have a great weekend everyone!

Things You Never Thought You'd Hear

This morning, Lil Phez crawled into bed and joined me, Mama Phez, and Baby Phez, who beat Lil Phez by 5 minutes, for some wake up cuddle time. I was really enjoying it. That's when Lil Phez looked towards the foot of the bed and said, "Daddy, your feet are red. Just like a Princess!".

Look at What Lil' Phez Made

*Okay, so this isn't actually his hands, but you get the idea.

Earlier tonight, or technically last night, Lil Phez and I were in his room doing the night time getting ready for bed stuff when he made the shape of a heart with his hands.

Lil' Phez: You know what that is, Daddy?

Me: What is it?

Lil' Phez: It's my heart. It has my uncle in it.

Lil' Phez has four uncles, one of which, the one he his named after, passed away 29 years ago - he was only twelve. About a month ago, I gave Lil' Phez a picture of his uncle in a frame for his night stand and said that this uncle would watch over him while he slept. Not being real big on a physical place called Heaven or Hell, I told him that his uncle, my brother, had died but was in my heart & mommy's and would now be in his heart.

Side Note: Seeing as how I was only 7 when my brother died, my wife hadn't met him, but she still has a lot of love for him. He was so special and my family have shared so many stories with her about him, that she feels that she knew him and knows that she had she met him, she would've loved the hell out of him, just like we all got the awesome opportunity to do - even as brief as his time was with us. Isn't it strange / awe inspiring how we can have love for a person that we never met?

Would you like some Kibble with that?

Several days ago, I was helping Lil Phez with his nightly chore: feeding the fish when something peculiar happened. But before I go into the incident let me, to quote Desi Arnaz, ecksplang.

When feeding the fish, Lil Phez needs my help, at age 3 & 11/12, because it is large tank and it requires that he climb up on a dining room chair - something he knows not to do without permission/supervision. At his tender age, I must say that Lil Phez is very good at knowing what his boundaries are, i.e. what he should & shouldn't do, and he doesn't test those boundaries.

Which is why I was shocked several days ago when he reached into the fish food, grabbed one sole morsel of fish food and with what seemed like an executed decision, slowly opened his mouth and brought this new snack to his lips.


This is when with all of my parental skills, grabbed the wrist of the offending hand and, with love and concern in my voice that would make Dr. Spock proud, I asked ,"What in the world are you doing!" My startled toddler blinked, regained his composure, and replied, "I was going to eat it, Daddy" very matter-of-factly.

So began the lecture. I explained why he shouldn't eat the fish food. I told him that fish food is for fish. I explained that he would grow a fin if he ate it (okay, not really). And I said all of the things one should say to their child when trying to keep them from eating pet food. He said he understood and we agreed that it would never happen again. Then came last night.

I was helping him feed the fish when he repeated the slow purposeful act of trying to partake of, what is apparently the nectar of the Gods, also known as fish food. At first I went into lecture mode but quickly caught myself. "Self", I said to myself, "This didn't work last time. Try a new approach." And so this is how I handled it:

Me: Son, didn't we agree you shouldn't eat fish food?
Lil Phez: Yes.
Me: Would you like to try one piece?
(This is when Mama Phez's right eyebrow shot up so far it practically joined her bangs.)
Lil Phez: It would be okay?
Me: I wouldn't eat the stuff but you want to try it, so go ahead...one piece, just this once.
(Lil Phez takes a piece, puts it in his mouth, and begins to chew)
Me: It's pretty gross, huh?
Lil Phez: Yeah.
Me: Yucky!
Lil Phez: Yucky!
Me: Let's go brush your teeth again and get that nasty taste out of your mouth, okay?
Lil Phez: Okay, daddy.

Next week, we try the dog food.

My Own Favorite Post

I wouldn't have thought of this post today but it showed up as the Google search results for someone in Warsaw who was searching for "son big feet".

To take a queue from Dave Barry, it sounds like a good name for a rock band. But it also happens to be a very fond memory for me that brought a smile to me as I reread it, so I thought I'd share it with you.

Daddy, What's That?

Last night I served Corned Beef & Cabbage, which by the way isn't authentic Irish fare. I served it with Mookie Mookie, otherwise known as potatoes. I cooked it all in a pressure cooker and the potatoes, which had been quartered, took on the the liquid in the cooker (amber beer & chicken stock) so they became a bit darker, and very yummy.

Our three year old is not a fan of potatoes. It's odd because he'll eat almost anything. So, knowing his disdain for the potato, I didn't serve any on his plate. He saw it on my plate and didn't recognize it, so he asked me, "Daddy, what's that?". Not wanting to lose the opportunity to get him to eat potato, I said, "This baby? It's called Mookie Mookie." "Mookie, Mookie?!" he replied with a giggle. "Yep, would you like some?" "Yes, please." he said with excitement of an adventurer setting sails to chart new lands. He took a bite. "Do you like it?", I asked with some trepidation. "Yes! It tastes like potato."

He took one more bite, went back to his corned beef, which he polished off, and then announced that he was done, discarding the last bite of lonely Mookie Mookie.

A Major Minor Medical Emergency

Yesterday. 8:45 AM. I get the call. The caller display on my cell phone says Children's Paradise, the daycare for both our sons. Having been a client there for almost 4 years, I am somewhat used to the calls. No, that's a lie. You never get used to those calls. When you see the display, you hope it's something minor like a scraped knee or a slight fever. You hope that it is not something horrific; something major like an injury requiring stitches. We've never had a major call, until yesterday.

Our oldest son, the 3 year old, was sitting on the floor playing quietly when another boy who was spinning around accidentally head butted our son in the mouth. Maria, the head Daycare person, said that his teeth were bleeding and that I should take him to the dentist. I assured her that I would be right there.

Now, comes time for the second call. I had to call Mrs. Pheasantly and tell her what happened. I think it's important to enter a side note at this point in the story, one to all the other dads out there. When calling your wife to tell them something has happened to one of their offspring, choose your words very carefully.

scene: her phone rings
Her: Hi Honey. What's up?
Me: I got a call from daycare.
Her: Oh, what happened?
Me: There's been an accident. Wesley has been hit in the face. I am going to need Dr. Krugman's phone number.

This is the point in the conversation where Mrs. Pheasantly envisions our oldest sprawled out on the floor gurgling blood staring in a daze at some of his teeth laying next to him.

Yeah. I could have phrased that a little better.

So, after I calm her down (I've arrived at the daycare by this point), I reassure that it doesn't look that bad and I take him to our family dentist, Dr. Krugman.

The end of the story is that Wesley did not suffer any major damage to his teeth, either his baby teeth or his adult teeth which are already formed. One of the baby teeth may turn black but we'd only have to live with that until it gets replaced with the adult tooth.

It could have been a lot worse. Just ask my wife.

Par le vous what?

In 1991, I was nineteen and had just moved to Miami. I was staying with my dad and his wife while I was getting on my proverbial feet. My dad and step mom were going to a movie: Cyrano De Bergerac starring George Depardieu. They asked if I wanted to go along. I did. The long and the short of the movie is that a guy woos a girl by speaking French. Or, at least at 19, that's what I got out of it.

Coming home from the movie that night I had an epiphany. The only thing that was keeping me from getting all the ladies was the fact that I didn't speak French. If I knew French, then I would find a girl, impress her, and make her mine. So that was that. I was already planning on going to college for my AA degree and decided that for an elective I would take Beginner's French. I think it's important to note, and you may have heard this before, Miami does not have a large French speaking population. Spanish, yet another language that had evaded me, was (and is) quite common 'round these parts. So, do I take French or Spanish? As my dad pointed out when he was helping me choose, by using logic, one would naturally conclude that if they are going to use an elective course for a foreign language, it should be one that is spoken commonly where they live. So, naturally, I signed up for French class.

It was an accelerated night class and at the end of the course I got a 'C'. I still couldn't ask a girl out in French, nor would I be able to ask where the facilities were if she had agreed to said date. I met with my advisor who advised (funny how they do that) I should take something else for the next semester, like, maybe Spanish. She listed out all of the pros and cons and made a very valid argument. So, naturally, I enrolled in Beginner's French II.

I was really struggling. Or, as they would say in French, "La souris est aveugle." But lucky for me, there was a girl in this class who seemed very sharp and was picking up French quite easily. I figured I'd ask her to help me with the lessons. It didn't hurt that she was very cute. She agreed to help me but it was hard for me to keep my attention on the material. Did I mention she was cute? Well, at the end of the course my grade was no longer a 'C'. It was a 'D'. But I did manage to meet a cute girl. She even agreed to go out with me. We continued to date and seventeen years later she'd be standing here reading over my shoulder if she wasn't in our bed with a cold and 101 degree fever.

So, did I learn French? No. But did my plan work? You betcha!

And in case you were wondering, "Par le vous Francais" is French for "How I met my wife".

You Say Poe-tay-toe, I Say Poe-tah-toe

Matt was over ealier this evening and Wesley broke out the toy fishing rod (see earlier post) for Matt to play with.

Matt: Where are the fish?
Me (from the other room): They're imaginary, Matt. Just go with it.
3 Year Old: No, Dad! They're pretendy.

Okay, So, Which Is It? Do I Need a Break or Not?

Today started early. Around 6 am to be percise. The 5 month old started crying. We are trying the "Let them figure it out for themselves during the night" bit so I got out of bed, peed, washed my hands, and went to the computer to play a bit of Ticket To Ride. About a half hour later, I heard some noises so I went out to the dining room to research the source of the noice and found that our 3 year was at the breakfast table eating a meal obviously not prepared by himself, and the 5 month old was in the swing wanting to be picked up. Mrs. Pheasantly had returned to slumber land. So, I advised the 3 year old he had 5 minutes to finish his breakfast and he was to then go back to bed until his music played (aka when his alarm goes off at 8 am). I then swooped up the baby and headed out to the living room to watch HIS favorite show, which was Tivo'd, "Make Me a Supermodel".

At 8:01 Am the 3 year old announced from the other side of the house: "Daddy! MY MUUUUUUUUUUSIC IS ON! WE CAN PLAY NOW!" So with the baby in one arm, the Tivo on pause, and a toy fishing rod in the other hand, I proceeded to catch (and release) imaginary fish of ever color that you could, well, imagine. Then around 8:30 Mrs. Pheasantly comes out in her work out clothes to feed the baby before heading off to a step class with a good friend of ours.

Two...more...hours...me and the boys. So we watched some Peter Pan, and we acted out a few of the scenes as they transpire, I fed the baby, and then we headed out to buy a really cool piggy bank for the 3 year old and play at a playground.

At 11:30 I get home with boys to meet Mrs. Pheasantly who thanks me profusely for watching the kids early so she could sleep. I say that it's no problem. We play with the kids a bit and at around 1 pm, I say that I need a break and that I am going to go out for a quick lunch and to take a break from the boys. She says no problem and I am off.

I am not gone for more than 10 minutes when I am munching on some buffalo chicken tenders while I see a little boy nuzzling with his dad. And then: poof! I miss my boys. So I scarf down my lunch, grab a gallon of milk from the store, and hurry home to give both my boys a great big hug! I am such a sap!

You know You're a Full-Fledged Parent, When...

...You can go digging for, and successfully retrieve, a big honkin' booger from your 3 year olds nose and get only a little grossed out.

PS: As much as you might think otherwise, tweasers are not very helpful in this procedure; just some food for thought.

Say What?

This morning, we were all getting ready for the day and Mrs. Pheasantly was playing with son # 1 in the kitchen. She was speaking really silly and getting our son to laugh when he turned to her and said, "Mommy, talk nor-bul-ly, please".

So, do any of you happen to speak Norbul? Would you know if it is a romance language?

Holy Mother of All Things Sacred

I AM TIRED!

Child # 2, who is 4 months old, and who "graduated" to sleeping in his own room 9 days ago, still hasn't quite gotten the hang of a sleeping routine, a.k.a NO ONE ELSE IN THE FAMILY GETS TO SLEEP EITHER!

It first seemed that he went to sleep at 8, awoke at 11, and then again at 5. Then he got into a routine of sleeping from 8 to 1, then up for a feeding, and back down until 6. Now the little bugger has apparently combined both into one! Last night he was up around at 11:30, at which point we tried to let him "cry it out" as we were sticking to his schedule. Well, at 12:45 his big brother called from his room very annoyed that he couldn't sleep because the baby was crying. Well, yeah. So wifey fed him and put him back down. He awoke again at 4 and we let him "cry it out" which took about 45 minutes, all the while hoping that he wouldn't wake his big brother. He woke up again around 6:30, at which point wifey brought him into bed for their "wake up together slowly time", aka she gets to cat nap for an hour or so. Did I mention that 6:30 is when son # 1's internal alarm clock goes off like clock work telling him it's breakfast time?!

So, how did you sleep last night?

When Does It Get Better?

Friday night was the first night that Mrs. Pheasantly we decided to have our 4 month old sleep in his own room. Up until then, he had been cosleeping with her. We recall that it took two nights for Son # 1 to adjust and sleep through the night. Well, my fellow bloggers, it's been 4 nights (that's twice along if you're playing along at home) and it ain't (yes, I said ain't) happening.

Got Cados?

Yesterday morning, Sunday, it was time to harvest the crops from the back 5.

That would be 5 square feet, not acres, and the crops consist of two strawberry plants, a tomato plant, 2 herb plants, and a fruit tree. Son and I walked over to the strawberry plants which yielded for us ...wait for it... three entire ripe strawberries. We took them inside, washed them, and shared our bounty with Mrs. Pheasantly Fascinating.

Now it was time to check out the fruit tree, which is an Avocado tree. So I asked for help:

Me: Hey buddy, would you like to help look for Avocados?
Son # 1: Sure!
Me: Okay, let's go.
Son # 1: Let me tell mommy.
Me: Um, Okay.
Son # 1: Mommy!!!!
Mrs. Pheasantly Fascinating: Yes, sweety?
Son # 1: We're going to look for All-the-Cados.
Mrs. Pheasantly Fascinating: All the Cados, huh?
Son # 1: Yep, all of them!

He had really big feet!

Son # 1: He had really big feet!
(at 7:05 am, pre-coffee for mommy & me)

Me: What? Who, baby? Who had really big feet?

Son # 1: I was hungry so I looked under my door. He was putting my cereal for me at my table. He had really big feet.

Son # 1 looks down at the floor where I'm standing and and then his little face takes an expression so proud as if had he discovered the theory of relativity.

Son # 1: It was you, daddy! You got my cereal for me.

PS: My feet aren't really all that big, by the way.

Connect the Dots...of Logic

1. Child has fever
2. Child gets medicine, which child actually enjoys
3. Child then complains of other illnesses
4. Child is kept home from preschool and is allowed to watch TV, normally a weekend-only privilege, whilst mommie takes care of infant and works from home.
5. Child is complaining of illnesses the second day with sippy cup in hand looking for Gatorade, a favorite libation of his and one that is reserved for times when he is ill.

Child is not dumb.

PS Totally unrelated: Last night, I placed 2nd in our annual Toastmasters Table Topics Contest.

Saturday's Symphony - Not to be Read While Eating

In my weekend posting, I failed to mention one of the highlights, or low lights, of my outings Saturday occurred at the mall. Between the Jeopardy tryouts and trip to Knauss Berry, we stopped at the mall food court for lunch. My toddler announced that we had to use the toilet - someday I hope it will be "he".

He had to do number two and as is custom, I squatted down in the stall facing him, to give him needed encouragement and praise. Well, something I never realized before, is the awesome acoustics one is witness to with their head that low to the ground in a stall of a very busy restroom.

The cacophany was grandiose, and the stalls on either side were occupied - this proud papa is happy to report that my boy "outcacophed" them all!

Stories Are a Wonderful Thing.

Memory Lane make for an interesting trip. We all have stories that we can recall; I believe it's important that we tell our stories. Mrs. Pheasantly is encouraging me regail my fellow bloggers with some trips down my memory lane and she, like most better halves, does have an ulterior motive. She wants to save them for our boys. So, I will begin collecting my blog posts and will commit to posting often so that whenever our children wish, even once we are dead and buried, they will be able to feel connected to us, because after all isn't that what stories are all about...connection?

Want to hear a story pulled from my memory lane, you'll just have to wait, but not too long.