Jenny didn't get the memo

Editor's note: I started this last week and never finished it.

Last night week has to rank as one of the great tragedies of my wife’s short career as a parent.

No, Tate wasn’t sick or injured in any way. Nothing was lost or stolen. We’re all just fine today, except for the regret that Jenny will likely carry with her for years, I’m guessing.

Last night week Castle Mound Montessori School had their Fall Festival. Jenny told me about it a couple of days beforehand and even showed me the flyer, which described a night of games, prizes, refreshments and fellowship with the other kids and parents at the school. Pretty standard festival fare, if you ask me. Buried somewhere in the middle of the information: “Non-scary costumes optional.”

This is where I’m going to detour for a moment into a very short rant about the political correctness or racial sensitivity or religious tolerance or whatever socio-political anxiety it is that leads decision-makers at community institutions to change the names of otherwise well-known events, holidays and celebrations to generic or seasonal approximations of their former titles so as to avoid hurting as many feelings as possible. It irritates me. As a card-carrying liberal I get it, but I still roll my eyes whenever I see it happening.

My point is, this “Fall Festival” was actually a freakin’ Halloween Party. We just missed the code words embedded in the flyer that should have tipped us off – especially the part about costumes.

As we all know by now, my wife doesn't need a holiday (a real one, at least) to put Tate in a costume. The poor kid has looked like a contestant on Let's Make a Deal most of his life (by the way, did you know they were bringing that show back?). So you can imagine Jenny's shock and utter disappointment when we arrived at the Fall Festival and every kid in the building was wearing a costume.

Except Tate, that is. Tate had on his Boo shirt, which was more coincidental than anything. But in light of the occasion, it could have been mistaken for a rather pathetic attempt at costume. Jenny knew this, and her mortification was palpable.

Not that Tate noticed, of course. After being a little freaked out at first by the crowd and noise and oddly-dressed people, Tate got right into party mode and began leading us around the facility, playing games with the other kids and generally being his social self. It's funny how preschoolers just don't care about the way a person looks (or how they look themselves). Social stigmas don't exist at that age – it's only later that kids learn to be judgmental – so Tate thought nothing of playing ring toss with Boba Fett and a bottle of ketchup.

Meanwhile, Jenny begged me to let her drive home and get Tate's seal costume. I refused to let her go, mainly because I didn't want to be left alone at the party chasing after the Tot, and because by the time she made it home, found the costume, drove back, found a place to park and hiked from there to the party, It'd probably be time to leave anyway.

So we stayed for about an hour – Tate had a great time – and headed home around 7 p.m. It didn't help matters that Jenny had signed up beforehand to help clean up after the party, which meant that she had to go back to Castle Mound later and face the teachers – teachers who now thought she was terrible parent, no doubt.

So it was a missed opportunity. Not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but still – this was like Albert Pujols whiffing on an underhanded pitch. Get 'em next year, sweetheart.

Bad start to the weekend

Well the Cardinals lost in seriously awful fashion tonight.

I watched every pitch because I was keeping score at home (one of my favorite home-alone activites). Matt Holliday dropped a pretty routine fly ball that would have been the final out. Instead, the Dodgers deliver a 2-out rally and win. Three happy hours of my life turns into a soul-crushing waste of time.

SOOO...to get my mind off the Cardinals, I start to pack for the Ole Miss-Alabama game. I need to know what the weather will be like.

Just checked and it looks like I'll be driving in the rain for about 8-9 hours tomorrow, including my leg from Dallas to Jackson, and Joel's leg from Jackson to Oxford.

Gameday forecast? Thunderstorms. Followed by more rain. High in the upper 50s. Basically just cold, wet, and generally shitty. I'm packing waders. And some Jim Beam.

Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. I've been looking forward to attending this game for about 10 months, and it's going to be a freaking monsoon. Awesome. Just awesome.

And I miss my kid.

I suppose if Ole Miss wins it'll be worth it. I hope so.

Home Inspection

Sitting here at the computer upstairs while a half-dozen people downstairs are looking my home up one side and down the other for flaws, problems and potential problems. They've been at it now for two hours.

It is an awkward and invasive feeling; like getting a physical from a team of strangers.
I don't like any of it.

The only positive is that when it is over, like a physical, we will know exactly what our house's condition is: What needs fixing now, what can wait, and what it's going to take to sell it, if we can.

Oh, have I mentioned before that we're trying to sell our house? Yep. With luck, I'll be updating the blog from some new digs in a few weeks, even though I HATE HATE HATE moving.

Single Dad - Day 5

Not much to report today. All I did was take the Tot to school this morning. He was in his usual great mood. Many thanks to Mama Mia and Big Guy for taking Tate duty this weekend while I play in the DFW Ole Miss Club's Fall Golf Classic watch football on my couch as it rains cats and dogs outside.



So let's hear it for the Dodsons! They're a little old school, but they really love Tate and patiently put up with their daughter's crazy liberal husband. They're good people.

Single Dad - Day 4

Just saw the forecast: It's going to rain all day Saturday.

So much for my Ole Miss golf tournament.
I hate Texas.



Tate was cute today. We wrestled around and ate pizza together.

Single Dad - Day 3

Another pretty good day. Tate and I didn't spend as much quality time together today as I might have liked thanks to the demands of my fantasy football league. Our draft was tonight, so I had to stick to the computer fairly closely for about an hour while I made my crappy selections.

My team, the DFW Mud Islanders, won the championship two years ago. I'll be the first to say it was a fluke, but hey, I got my ring (t-shirt, actually) and they'll never be able to take it away from me.

I also got paid -- about $200 -- which means I can basically play for free for the next few years (playing in fantasy leagues does cost actual money, like about $40/year mainly for franchise fees and player transactions, etc.).

Anyway, I wound up depending a little more heavily on television than I normally would. It really just meant that Tate got some bonus Wonder Pets adventures. I didn't hear him complaining. Personally, I think Ming-Ming and Tuck are sharing cages IF you know what I mean. Linny, meanwhile, is clearly gay.
But I digress.

We had McDonald's for dinner. I know McD's isn't exactly health food, but he did have apple slices and milk with his nuggets and later had about half of a banana, so it wasn't like I was pouring poison down his throat, either. Again, I didn't hear him complaining.

I would cook -- we have some pasta and some salad and some canned veggies -- but I just don't have the time or inclination to clean up the whole kitchen afterwards (did I mention we're selling our house so I have to keep it spotless? Yeah. Sucks.); I have plenty of cleaning and straightening to do every night as it is.

Meanwhile, Jenny called me from Hawaii today to say that she was eating fresh pineapple on a beach where some villagers were cooking a pig for her. Later -- after the massage -- they were going to throw a virgin into a volcano for her.


I have to go clean the turds out of the cat box now.

Single Dad - Day 2

Not a bad day. Knock on wood.

A long day, though. Cute as they may often be, 2-year-olds are high maintenance creatures. At least mine is. Everything is frustratingly close to being not-so-high-maintenance, too, which means I have to maintain a little more self-discipline.

Here's what I mean: A 2-year-old can climb up on a bed, or a chair, or a sofa, and its tempting to think he can get himself down without slipping and clunking his head. You may even be tempted to leave him on said bed, chair or sofa for a few moments to go hang up your shirt.

This would be a poor decision. Two-year-olds can come up with a hundred ways to climb onto something, but invariably arrive at only one way to get down from something: gravity.

A 2-year-old can also practically bathe himself, and is quite comfortable playing with his toys and swirling around in the tub without you messing with him. You may even be tempted to leave him in said tub for a few moments to go get his PJs out for bedtime.

Again, this would be a poor decision. And actually, a really dangerous one. As has been documented by my employer on a number of occasions, a child can drown in an inch of water, and it only takes a few moments (for an interactive guide on drowning prevention, go here).

Before my in-laws have a heart attack -- NO, Tate did NOT have any falling or drowning issues tonight. Not even close. He's fine, I promise. I'm just saying this to illustrate the high level of alertness you have be at at all times with a 2-year-old when you're the only grownup in the house. They are fast, intelligent, and quite capable of lulling you into a sense of security...just before they wonder out of your sight and make a break for the stairs.

This is all to say that after two days I'm pretty tired. It doesn't help that I have to keep the house showroom clean, either. That was not a necessity last time, and it's pain in the ass because I basically have to wait till he's asleep to get the cleaning done.

Still, I did get to spend a lot of time with the Tot tonight. His new thing is making trains. He has no actual trains, mind you -- he just makes them out of anything he can get his hands on; cars, books, cups, raspberries -- whatever. He lines stuff up and then yells "CHOO-CHOOO!" It's cool.

Meanwhile, Jenny is having a rough time of her own in Hawaii. She texted me today to say she had spent the morning snorkeling and swimming with manta rays.

Manta rays.

I gotta go finish unloading the dishwasher.