So cute, but such a pain!

Callum is going through a phase of not wanting to go to bed, so he does things of an evening to try to keep himself awake and to make it hard to get him into his cot. His first stalling technique comes with his bottle. It used to be that he'd take his bottle, go into milk induced stupor, and glide off to sleep. This was when he was at his cutest, and it was really nice to have him lie there and fall asleep in your arms.

Not anymore. Now, he demands his bottle, and cries until it comes. When you get it there, he guts-ache's at you until its in his hot little hands, and won't stop griping until the teat hits his lips. From there, its the whole "suck it down as fast as you can" approach to drinking. He's going to easily be able to do a yard glass when he turns 18. The thing is, because he's concentrating so hard on getting the fluid into his tummy, once he finishes he's still wide awake.

So then he sits up, burps, and begins climbing all over you. With me, the main aims are to steal the remote control, or to rip my glasses off my head. God forbid if I try to settle him by lying him on my chest anymore. That's just a sign to let him get his pinch fingers out and rip the few remaining chest hairs off my chest. If Anth happens to be sitting next to me on the other recliner, then there's a whole new level of fun in climbing between the two chairs, regardless of the gap. This could go on all night, interspersed with bouts of tired crying. Ultimately, we end up just putting him to bed. Anth seems to have a more delicate touch than me, and usually he will fall straight to sleep.

Ciao for Now, Hairless Chest Angry Dad.

The Dishes Fairy

Tonight I was fortunate enough to come home to the smell of a delicious roast lamb and vegetables dinner. All I had to do was set the table and make the gravy. Anth had done all the cooking, and it was delicious. I helped Callum feed himself and we all sat there and enjoyed a beautiful meal. Then came the dilemma.

Normally, I cook. Therefore, after the meal, I get to go and interact with the children by plonking my fat arse in the recliner and letting the kids run around my feet whilst I watch TV. We normally finish dinner by 7:00pm, and so there's a good hour of quality time doing this before the kids go to bed. In this time, the Dishes Fairy comes and helps Anth do the dishes. She must get help, as it never ceases to amaze me that within less than 10 minutes the table is spotless, the dishwashers stacked, food scraps are thrown out or restored in the fridge, and any heavy duty items for scrubbing are stacked, after being washed, by the sink. How the hell does she do it so quick?

My dilemma was that as I didn't cook, I have to clean up. I still had my quality time, which meant I didn't arise from my hibernation until 9:30pm. It took me half an hour just to clear the table. The dishwashers only half stacked. There's still crap in pots. No benches have been wiped. Callum's food droppings have only been half scraped off the floor (by Wednesday the dog). I've got a headache. Where's my dishes fairy?

Ciao for Now, Dirty Dishes Done Dirt Cheap Angry Dad.

The Future

As I arrived home this evening I was greeted by Ethan at the front door.

"Dad, am I the future? "
"You could be the future. "
"Are you the future?"
"Sure. "
"What is the future?"
"The future is whatever you make it."

At this point, I should have quoted Doc Brown from Back to the Future III and added "So make it a good one!"

Who knows what they're kids are going to be. Hopefully they'll follow the steps of their father, a shallow man, a Simpson's loving man, a man who likes nothing better than to sit on the recliner and watch movies at night eating chocolate. And at times, one can only hope they will be prone to fits of selfish denial, thus earning their rightful heritage as Angry Men! Hopefully they'll also have a sly sense of humour.

But still, you can't but enjoy the optimism of youth when the closing comment from your son on this conversation is:

"When I grow up, I want to be the future Dad."

Ciao for Now, here's lookin' at you kid Angry Dad.

Blocked Up

Callum has apparently been painful most of the day. He's probably been painful because he himself was in pain. Having had to hold him for the best part of the last 3 hours, and it is now close to 11:00pm, I'm pretty sure it was because he was blocked up. The blockage only was released a short time ago. Anyone who has had kids knows what I'm talking about.

This has got to be a specific thing with babies. Some people suggest Gripe Water. Other's suggest a warm bath, or a soothing massage. I even attempted the leg maneuver, where you gently extend and push up the legs to try to get some kinda movement happening. I think this had some success. There's nothing like a tired, squirming baby you have to hold in your arms, who then wakes up, farts, cries, wriggles, and then somehow gets back to sleep again, albeit briefly. Sounds like the perfect pathway to male adulthood doesn't it?

I can only suspect that the root cause of the problem was part of my doing. There was a special on the In a Biskit range at the supermarket this past weekend. Four boxes for just three bucks. What a bargain! So I bought four boxes, one of each varying flavour. The kids love them, although unfortunately I think that today Callum may have had more than his fair share of Dixie Drumsticks in a Biskit. Hence the blockage.

Ciao for Now, In a Biskit Angry Dad.

A Day at the Bay

Today we met up with friends at Scarborough, which is north of Brisbane on the Redcliffe Peninsula. It was a beautiful day. The wind came off the bay to keep it cool, and we got a table so we could have a picnic with sandwiches and Fish and Chips. The kids all ran around together, and Graham and I got out the footy and did some kick to kick. We started off on the grass next to the beach, and after we'd eaten we went down on to the beach to play in the sand.

Aidan loves the beach, and Ethan loves to explore the rocks and shells. There are also a number of jellyfish which get washed ashore. Ethan managed to find a small one, which looked a bit like an oversized clear jellybean. For whatever reason, Sebastian, who was with us, decided to name it "Freddy". Unfortunately, once Freddy was handed to Aidan he didn't last long, turning more into smushed up Freddy than jellyfish Freddy.

After the beach, we walked up to the beach park, and the kids all played on the playground equipment. My task was to meet the constant stream of requests from Aidan to either go to the toilet, or to annoy other parents. It would be nice if he socialised with other kids rather than adults. I don't know how many times we have to deal with him going up to strangers and asking them "What are you doing tomorrow?" Their instant reaction is to almost turn their heads 360 degrees to try to locate this weird kid's parents!

Ciao for Now, Bay Beach Boy Angry Dad.

Jammin' Hands

Today, as Callum decided to have an afternoon kip out the back, I decided to have one with him. We were awoken to Aidan telling us he wanted to go outside, rapidly followed by Ethan telling us how hungry he was. Ethan is able to get his own food, and he had foraged around the pantry and discovered a Chupa-Chup. He asked if he could have it, and I told him he could. He then went out of view into the kitchen, followed by Aidan.

I have no doubt that Aidan was being annoying, and he probably wanted a chupa-chup as well, but the next thing I heard was a drawer slam, and then a terrible wail from Aidan. He came running in, to me immediately complaining that his hand was hurt and Ethan was naughty. I checked his hands, which had gone bright red, and then went and got an ice pack to put on it. During this process, I also asked Ethan what he was doing. Remember, that waking me up is like waking up a bear from winter slumber.

"Aidan was annoying me. He kept following me."
My voice rising: "Did you close the drawer on his fingers?"
"Yes. He was following me."
My anger rising: "That's naughty, do you know you hurt him?"
"Yes, but he wanted my chupa-chup."
Me, roaring: "Well, Bad Luck. Put the chupa-chup in the bin now. You're not having it."
"But Dad..."
Me, exploding: "Bin! Now!!"

Ethan's tears followed. Aidan was still crying. Callum started crying. My throat hurt. It was all bad, and my true Angry Dad parenting skills shone out in this instance. *Sigh*.

Ciao for Now, True Angry Dad.

Give the man a heart attack

I got a phone call today at work.

It's me. I nearly just had a heart attack.
Why, what happened.
You're going to have a heart attack when you see it.
What?
It's not a bill or anything.
What are you talking about? What's wrong?
I'm outside. I'll leave it until you get home.
What.
I'll tell you when you get home.

Argggghhhhhh. Why ring me at all? It must be a wifey thing to ring your partner up at work, and get him all worked up about what could possibly be wrong. When it happens, for me the first thing that pops into my head is that something has happened, or nearly happened, to one of the kids. Especially with Aidan. Its not nice to be rung up from his school, and told that he's sick and you need to get to him to take him to hospital. (Twice that's happened at his school, and I've rushed there to only find him with a runny nose, but that's another story.)

With Callum around, I also thought maybe something had happened with him. Perhaps he had fallen into the pool. You'll understand why I thought that as the conversation continues.

Don't wait until I get home. Tell me now.
Well, I was cleaning the pool filter.
Yes. Callum's all right isn't he? He didn't fall in.
Don't be stupid.
Ok, so why would I have a heart attack?
Because there's a lizard in the filter box.
A lizard? You mean a little lizard.
No, a big lizard. You'll see when you get home. You'll have a heart attack.

Of course, by the time I got home, the lizard had gone. But she was right, I nearly did have a heart attack by having to take the call!

Ciao for Now, Phone Stressed Angry Dad.

The Mad Dash

Sometimes time lets me down. Ok, so often time lets me down. I shake my fist at it and say "Damn you time!" but it doesn't make any difference. I got out later than I expected from work tonight. I was due to be home at 6:00pm to take Ethan to taekwondo practice. Thursday night is now also netball night, so Anth also had to get ready for her game. I tried to do a Mad Dash, but it didn't really help as I didn't get home until 6:30pm. This mean Anth had to take Ethan and then we had to do a swap over.

At 6:30pm we did the swap over. I got Callum, and we watched Ethan do his class, came home, had dinner, and watched a little bit of The Simpsons. Yes, The Simpsons are on practically every night on free to air television. Then we had to do the Mad Dash over to Aidan's after school care centre to pick him up. We made that with a few seconds to spare, and Aidan and his carers were happy to see us on time for a change.

From there, it was home and my controlled efforts in trying to get the kids to do homework, feed baby, and get them into bed before Anth got home. I was hoping that she would be home in time for me to do a run down to the shops, as our cupboards are literally bare of the base essentials, like chocolate. She got home at 8:55pm. The supermarket shuts at 9:00pm. I had to do the Mad Dash. Unfortunately I didn't make it. Lucky there was still some chocolate ice cream left in the fridge, otherwise their really would have been trouble.

Ciao for Now, MMMmmm Ice Cream Angry Dad.

The First Band

As one of my mates gets closer to his 40th Birthday, its become that time to reminisce about the past and gather documents of his history. Part of that history involves me and the first band that I was in. I was fortunate enough to be friends with a group of quite entrepreneurial guys. Way back in high school, a group of them decided that they could make some money on the side running disco's and band nights. At one particular show, they decided to let the band I was in play support to one of the other school garage bands. This was way back in November of 1982, so I was all of 15.

We'd only really done one other show, and at that point we didn't have a lead singer. There were for of us, Tim, myself, Santo and Mike. We were a covers band, mixing it up with 80's tunes (which were current then) and 50's rock - due to the mixed influence of the band members. I played keyboards, and we had 2 guitars, occasional bass, and drums. Tim stepped in as lead singer for this gig, and as we'd "lost" our temporary lead singer we decided to do this gig as "Reform". Get it, as in we'd reformed. Yeah, pathetic I know.

I don't really remember that much, but I do remember it was a lot of fun. The crowd wasn't that big, maybe 80 or so people, but it was intimate and I was playing music to someone other than the school orchestra crowd so that had to be a little bit cooler. I even got to wear a goofy looking hat, and I can't remember when my legs were that skinny, even if now Anth still calls me chicken legs (Bgaaarrrkkk).

Ciao for Now, Band Boy Angry Dad.

Sore Foot

It has been over two weeks since I did the Bridge to Brisbane fun run, and I haven't been having that much fun with my foot ever since. I was quite proud of what I achieved, and I don't regret having done it. Unfortunately, since then, I had problems with my calf tightening up, which then transformed into problems with my ankle and the arch of my foot. It took me a few days to go and see my physiotherapist, but since then I've had some sessions where he firstly worked out the calf problems, and now has fixed up most of the other problems with my foot. The main thing I have to worry about now is how damn hairy my legs are, and the pain I'm going to feel pulling the strapping off my leg. Can you see why men are reluctant to go the Brazilian?

It is a bummer how as you get older your body gets that much more creaky. I don't feel like I'm approaching forty mentally. Hell, I still act like I'm in puberty. I wish my body was the same! I can see the kids get bounced around at the moment, and they recover so quickly. When Anth and I do anything exercise wise we seem to pay for it for weeks if we do an injury. Anth has started up netball, and is also doing a bit more jogging to keep fit for it, and she's started complaining of shin splints. Its just not fair.

I can only hope that the future of genetic engineering will help us with some of the recovery as we get older. I keep hearing stories about how in the future we'll be able to regenerate ourselves. Sounds a bit like Dr Who. In the meantime, Ugg Boots are a welcome compromise for weary feet. I can only hope they find the cure in my lifetime. Who wants to live forever? Me, without a sore foot.

Ciao for Now, Still Hobbling Angry Dad.

Sports Day

With all the activities over the weekend, I had forgotten to do a post on Aidan's Sports Day, which he had on Friday. Today we got sent some more photo's from the even from one of the other Mums, so I decided now would be as good a time as any to add them here. Aidan was part of the Red Rockets team, and had his face painted appropriately.

The great thing about Aidan's sports days is that all the parents and siblings are expected to participate as well. As you can see, Anth got into the whole deal, sticking out her tongue for what I think is the egg and spoon race. Notice how gracefully she carries Callum whilst dragging Aidan along beside her. Marvel at the gazelle like beauty of her stride. Is it any wonder that she won? Well, maybe she didn't win. Its participation which makes the best sports people isn't it?

There was even a cheer squad. Grandma came down especially for the occasion, and she and Callum led up the clapping squad. Grandma got to hold Callum during Aidan's solo performances. It looks like a fun day was had by all, and I know that Aidan's highlight wasn't just doing running, but having a sausage at the sausage sizzle after all the athletic activities.

Ciao for Now, Red Rocket Angry Dad.

Farm Visit

After last night's diatribe, it was nice to go out today to a party and see lots of parents behaving in the way you'd like people to behave. One of the kids from Aidan's Special School had his birthday party at Trevena Glen Farm. This is an operating farm outside of Brisbane, and is set up for Farm Stay, School visits and functions. The staff were excellent, with a range of activities with the animals, including pony rides, time with the cows, sheep and pigs, feeding the lambs, and even a tractor hay ride!

Ethan had a separate party to go to, and Anth had the opportunity to go to the football, so it was just Callum, Aidan and I. The mistake I made with Aidan was not giving him breakfast, due to his insistence that he was going to have "lollies at the party" and wouldn't eat anything. Of course, after we arrived, he began telling everyone "I'm Starving." Here is where my belief in people was raised. A father of the family that was doing the home stay rushed back to their room, and got a range of snacks for Aidan to eat. At first I had thought he was part of our party, but then Linda, the host, told me that he wasn't with our group at all. Just a really nice guy! On top of that, all the kids, whether special needs or not, played and enjoyed the farm animals immensely. Even Callum got into the feeding the lambs act.

When we finally sat down for the party, Aidan began to get a bit over-revved. Within easy reach were every type of lolly, so he helped himself to a full smorgasboard. How do you tell a kid at a party not to eat lollies? A shame he didn't touch his sausage in a roll, but I got to eat it instead! Aidan did try to stick his fingers in the cake, but got caught out pretty quick. Special needs parents do have a quick draw with their kids! Ultimately, he still got his cake, and Callum got to munch on a piece of cake too.

Ciao for Now, Farm Hand Angry Dad.

Some people shouldn't be parents

We get the Brisbane newspaper, the Courier Mail, delivered each day. It is generally only Saturday and Sunday when I get the opportunity to read most of it. Sometimes, its a reflection of a sad world that we live in. Tonight, as I read the World News sections I was struck by the idiocy of two particular parents, and one can only hope that their children are taken far away from them. In one case, that has already happened by one of the worst ways imaginable. I normally like to keep a nice, sarcastic blog happening, but I warn you now, that the following discussion will contain issues which may offend some readers.

The first article I came across was about a woman who was jailed for giving heroin to her 9 year old son. She also gave him crack cocaine. Fortunately she's been jailed for nine years, and her son is now in foster care and recovery. She did it for 3 years from 2003 through 2005. What can I say but stupid, selfish bitch. Fortunately, the judge in this case judged her "pure wickedness" appropriately and she was charged with child cruelty. If you want to ruin your own life with drugs, then go ahead, but don't foster it onto your children. I do realise, however, that in our society this seems to be often the case.

The second article I came across was far more heinous. So much so I had to go out to Anth and ask her if she'd read the article about a particularly stupid fuckwit from England, who upon hearing his wife was to leave him and take the children, decided that it would be more self serving if he jumped off a hotel balcony with them. He threw his son off, and then jumped with his daughter. They were on a family holiday in Greece. Unfortunately, the 6 year old boy died. Fuckwit survived with only a broken arm and leg, and the sole fortunate thing was that he cushioned the blow for his daughter. Allegedly he had been on a drug and alcohol fuelled binge when he did it. No excuse. This is another incredibly tragic story.

Its these kinds of stories that make me worry for humanity, although I know the world's press tend to sensationalise and go for the stories at the extreme ends of humanity's woes. I can only hope that my kids and my family, my friends families, and their friends don't have to go through these kinds of tragedies.

Ciao for Now, Somewhat Saddened but really Angry Dad.

Lets grab, throw and attack with things

Welcome to the Good Ship Bathtime with your Captain, Captain Callum. Bath time with a baby can be a lot of fun. There's the continual splashing of water so that there's more outside the bath than in, there's ice cream containers that can be a substitute for a captain's hat, and there are a multitude of toys which make their way from the rumpus room play sets to become bathroom play sets. With three kids, over the years this has grown into quite a collection

Callum likes to have baths, which is great. He isn't one to kick and scream when you try to drop him in, which happened to Ethan for a while. He also doesn't mind getting his hair wet. He has a little fishing net, which he uses to catch fish (What else do you think he'd do with it?) Ok, ok, yes they're toy fish. As much as I wanted to have real fish in our bath, they have to stay outside in the pond.

The thing is, that after a few minutes of nice play, Callum's idea of fun can get quite rough. It begins with gradually throwing all of the toys outside of the bath. It completes when after you've taken him out of the bath, and you're trying to get him to get his nappy on. At that time, on this particular evening, he managed to pick up a pencil which had been left lying around and miraculously attacked me with it, with the pointed led end being rammed up my left nostril. I could have posted pictures of the resultant bloody mess, but instead deemed that if I put up cute pictures of Callum I could continue to hide the mutinous little monster that he can be! He should be scrubbing the poop deck!!

Ciao for Now, Scurvy Mate Angry Dad.

Annoyingly Anonymous

When my kids grow up, I hope that they won't hide behind a veil of secrecy when they want to put forward an opinion. I hope that they have the courage to speak their minds and not just go up as Anonymous. This probably sounds ironic, from a bloke that posts under the pseudonym of Angry Dad. This has come about from the nuisance which is the Anonymous commenter on Blogger.

I allow anyone to comment on this blog. The problem that I'm currently finding is that I'm getting a consistent amount of commenters putting up gems such as:

"This site is one of the best I have ever seen, wish I had one like this.This site is one of the best »"

What a nice thing to say. Why thank you, yes, I am one of the best, and the most modest too. But wait, what's that little » you've tacked on the end there? Why that wouldn't be a link out to your porn or advertising site would it? Why you sly dog, you don't like me at all. You're just doing Search Engine Optimisation via stealth.

My personal take on this is that the person who puts the comments on is more than likely a real person, as I'm not sure if someone's come up with an efficient way to break Google's Word Verification via automatic means. The shitful thing is I feel like I have to go and clean them up afterwards, which is a pain in the bum. I could turn on comment moderation, but that just seems like extra work as well, so as long as they don't do it too much, I guess I'll just keep deleting them. I just wish they got the message, but I doubt they will. I'll shut up now before I sound like too much of a frustrated computer nerd.

Ciao for Now, Deleting Mr Anonymous Angry Dad.

Ekka

The Royal Queensland Show, otherwise known as the Ekka, is on this week. It would be analogous to a State Fair, although it gets its name "Ekka" from Aussie Slang for Exhibition. The main function is to bring the agricultural elements of the country to the City, so there are lots of animals and great food to sample, as well as demonstrations from lots of far flung cultures and traditions. On top of that, there's all the commercial stuff: show rides like the Ghost Train, or Ethan's favourite The Jumping Castle; as well as Showbags, with samples of lots and lots of stuff (mainly chocolate or toys).

Today was People's Day, which conveniently meant a public holiday for us drones who work 9 to 5. Ethan and I went, along with most of the rest of the population of Brisbane, so we squeezed ourselves through the crowds and had an enjoyable afternoon and evening. It wasn't that crowded, and we got to go on some rides, watch animals do their thing, buy lots of sugary treats (MMMmmm Ice Cream) and sit and watch the evening entertainment. This included motorcross, stockmen, horse-riding, bison rustling, car racing, human cannonball and all topped off with fireworks. Ethan was wrapped.

When I was a kid I used to love that Mum used to take us to the show. We always looked at all the stuff, and Mum being a country girl at heart used to show us all the animals. I try to do the same with our kids when we go. Although I love all the thrill rides, Ethan is still too young to go on the Zipper, but we did get to go on the Chairlift. Of course, as I'm scared of heights, I was petrified he was going to slip out as he excitedly lurched from one side to the other pointing out all the things he could see. By the way, I'm scared of heights when I'm not strapped in! All in all, a good day.

Ciao for Now, Ekka'd Out Angry Dad.

He's in the Back!

I came home to a wondrous thing. I should go away more often. Our bedroom was cot free! Callum has been pushed down to the back room, so we won't be able to hear him anymore. I guess that knowing I would be bragging about getting ten hours of mostly uninterrupted sleep last night, Anth had had enough and she decided to get the jump on me by putting Scream-O out the back. Apparently it worked quite well too!

Speaking of out the back, I nearly didn't make it back to Brisbane at all. It always sucks being the last person on the plane. I made it to the airport in Sydney with plenty of time, went through security, had a look around and then planked my behind in a comfy lounge area which I thought was gate 4 - the flight to Brisbane. Stupid Man. The flight was due out at 7:15pm. At 7:10pm I began wondering why they hadn't called the flight, but no one else seemed anxious. That would be because I was at Gate 5, not 4. I rushed over, and got told "Ahhh... Lucky Last." But I still made it on the flight.

The other ounce of luck I had was that when I did my electronic check in, you now have the option of re-allocating your seating. So instead of sitting at the back of the plane, there was a spot showing up the front. So I took it. It may have been lucky that I was late, because when my ticket wouldn't read at the gate, the senior attendant there just said "Let him get on. It'll be alright." I got in the plane and got to fly Business Class home. Sweet.

Here are some of the photo's I took last night of some of the Sydney Icons. Enjoy!



Ciao for Now, Sweet Sweet Angry Dad.

Early Start

Today I had to go to Sydney. I had a 6:00am flight. Because of recent world events, I was unsure what the new security setup at our local airports would be like for domestic travel, so I thought I better get there early. That meant being up at 4:15am for a taxi pickup at 4:45am. I was at the airport just after 5:00am. In this instance, although the security has been bumped up, it didn't take that much longer to get through. I sat in the lounge at the airport thinking how I could have snuck in an extra half an hour's sleep.

Travel is always an interesting prospect when you have kids and family. When I travel, I try to make it so that I leave in the morning of the day I have appointments or things to attend, and when I return, I get back on the same day as my last appointment. This can be hard, and generally means earlier starts, but the impact on home life is generally reduced that little bit extra. I do like to travel, and the good thing is that I don't have an excessive travel schedule with my work so it doesn't overly extend us.

Sydney is a great city. I'm in the middle of the city and this evening I wandered around down near Circular Quay and looked at the Opera House and Harbour Bridge. I'll post some pictures tomorrow night when I have a more stable connection. I even got to eat fish and chips down near the quay, and ate an ice-cream as I wandered the streets. Now, all I have to do is make use of the opportunity to get a good night's sleep without a screaming baby to wake me up.

Ciao for Now, Potentially Sleepfull Angry Dad.

Scream-O

Look at our little angel. Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. I actually don't know what that means, but I can tell you now it would actually melt in his mouth. And it would slobber all over his lips. And it would mix with the boogers running out his nose. And, yes, it would be disgusting. Callum is hopefully coming to the end of a run of teething and illness, which have made him not very pleasant to be around. Apart from the sleep deprivation, he has taken up some other less than endearing habits.

He has a habit of following both Anth and I around the house. This weekend, if he wasn't asleep or sitting on us, he would crawl up along behind each one of us, howling at us until we either ran away or picked him up. Honestly, could we really run away? It was probably more likely that you'd run near the other person, so then he'd switch his attention. He doesn't seem to hassle the boys, but he does pull the hair out of the dog.

This mainly occurs in the house. Outside the house, he seems to get a bit more lease of life. Ethan and I played out in our back yard with him yesterday and he didn't scream at all. Today, we had him out the side yard whilst we did some gardening work, and he was happy to cover himself in dirt and mud. The picture above, however, happened when we brought him inside and Anth tried to do fold some washing. As she folded, he undid, screaming with every clothing grab. I think Lisa commented that she had this problem as well. Yes, it is a global phenomenon. We are not alone.

Ciao for Now, Ear Plugged Angry Dad.

Happy (Poo) Trails

Anth hasn't been well today, due to a self induced illness (read hangover). That's meant I've kept an eye on the boys for most of the day whilst she slept it off. The two elder boys have been fine, but its been the little monster who's kept me on my toes most of the day. Just after lunchtime, I decided I'd better get him cleaned up and change his nappy.

We have a change table in Aidan's room, so I plonked him down there and removed his nappy. No poo. I should have taken this as a sign. Instead, I thought "What a good opportunity for some nappy free time." Stupid Man. So I let him roam for a minute around Aidan's room, and the phone rang. I answered, and began yabbering to one of Anth's friends. That's when I noticed the trail from Callum's behind. Little pellets on the carpet. I picked him up, and he took a dump on my leg. Disgusting. Then he tried to squirm out of my arms, as I dropped the phone and tried to pick up some baby wipes. I took him into the bathroom, and dropped him straight into the empty bath.

I rushed back into Aidan's room, got more wipes, wiped myself and the original trail down as best as I could and threw the remnants into the toilet. Too late. Poo boy also decided that the bath would be a good place to leave a new trail. I had to grab more wipes, wipe him down as best I could, pull him out of the bath, and go and grab disinfectant whilst doing another toilet drop off. As I disinfected the bath, he decided to leave one more trail on the bathroom floor. How much can one kid hold in? After cleaning the bath, I refilled it with water and through him in, chastising him whilst I cleaned up the last happy trail from the bathroom floor. It wasn't quite how I wanted him to have a bath, but he ended up clean and I ended up stinky.

Ciao for Now, Poo Stained Angry Dad.

The Mess Hall

It never ceases to amaze me how much mess three children can amass in the space of mere hours. I was home alone with the kids tonight, so Anth could have a night out with the lay-dees. This, of course, is the excuse for all three children to go hog wild, pull out all their toys, wee or poo their pants (is that what babies do?), and generally throw most of their dinner all over the floor (babies to that as well??) or table (don't the older kids know how to eat yet?)

Dinner was one piece of excitement after another. Callum, the baby, decided that crawling around the kitchen whilst I grilled chops and sausages, and tried to toss a salad, was an opportunity too good to miss. He got into the plates drawer, and tried to pull them out. He got into the pantry, and pulled paper towels out and spread them all over the floor. He even got out our old pin board, and tried to eat the old pins. *Sigh*. The hardest thing to take was when he decided he'd help me with the grilling. You've probably never seen a grown man leap from one side of the kitchen to the other when he realised how close the boy was to burnies. Glad my ankle is feeling slightly better.

Because a repeat of Futurama was on TV, Ethan wanted to dash off and watch that. Because I like to have everyone eat together at the table, he scoffed down as fast as he could to get the approval to run off. Great, food scraps everywhere. Aidan, who is a bit off colour at the moment, decided he'd just wander off to his room and leave is mess for the dog. The dog did come in and hoover up all the meat scraps she could find, so that was one less thing I had to do. On top of this, Anth had decided to wash all the bed sheets today, so in trying to get the kids to bed I had to refit all the beds with new linen. This meant negotiating the many and varied small objects which are at present adorning every bedroom. There's nothing like small metal matchbox cars under your heel with every turn.

Ciao for Now, Mess Duty Angry Dad.

How I broke my Ankle and got Naked

Jenn from Maniacal Days wanted to know how I originally broke my ankle, so here's the story. Two years ago, as it was coming out of Winter, I was outside cleaning our in-ground pool. The older boys were outside, as was the dog, and whilst standing on the edge of the pool I turned to see what the boys were doing. At that point, I realised that there was no ground underneath one foot, so I attempted to jump in the air as I pivoted to try to reach solid ground. Of course, as I jumped with one leg, the other leg was entering the water. Unfortunately, the right side of my body was still over the edge of the pool, so my foot slammed back down onto the concrete edge, and I tumbled into the pool.

Being Winter, the pool wasn't exactly warm. On top of that, I was fully clothed. The cold shock hit, so I jumped out of the pool. I stripped off because I was wet, at the same time as I started screaming because of the intense pain shooting up my leg from my foot. The kids bolted, as they thought they were in trouble. The dog looked on amused. Anth came running out, because I'd started screaming "Help me, Help me, Help me! Argghh! Argghh! Argghh!" over and over again. She came out, saw me naked, and thought that I'd spilled hydrochloric acid on my body from cleaning the pool, so her first thought was to try to push me back in. I screamed at her not too, and then went back to screaming about the pain. She ran inside and got me some towels, and pulled me out of the fenced area trying to figure out what had happened. The neighbours has also come out, but on seeing me naked, had decided that Anth could sort it out herself as I was just being wacky again. As I got some sensibility back, she explained why she'd tried to push me into the pool, and I gradually calmed down enough to cover myself in towels and sit on a chair to get off my now swelling foot.

Being the stupid man I am I spent the rest of the day, a Sunday, bemoaning the pain but not going to hospital. I had a flight the next day to Melbourne, where I would be working for a week, so I didn't do anything about it. Fortunately, one of the people I was with was an ex-nurse, so she strapped it up for me whilst chastising me that I should have seen a doctor. It got better over the week, and I thought it was ok, until about 4 weeks after that when the pain "came back". Then I went to see a doctor, who organised X-rays, and then a specialist who told me that although I'd fractured it, it was healing of its own accord, so there was no need to put a cast on it.

The moral? Don't fall in your pool to get naked, its better to swim naked in the first place.

Ciao for Now, Naked Swimming Angry Dad.

Hobble-a-long Cassidy

Since doing the Bridge to Brisbane fun run, I've had anything but fun. My calves twanged at about 7km into the race, but I ran through them tightening up so that I could finish the full 12km. Now I'm paying for it. This stems from a previous injury I had where I fell into our swimming pool a few years back and fractured my ankle. At the time, it took 6 weeks to realise that I'd broken my foot. It took that long to really suffer from the pain I'd caused.

A similar situation has emerged. I ran Sunday. Sunday afternoon, it felt like someone had sewn tennis balls into my calves. By Monday they were nice and tight, and I had to catch a flight to Melbourne and back the same day. When I got off the plane in the afternoon in Brisbane my ankle started to hurt. Yesterday, on the walk back to the car after work, it really hurt. Today I was Hobble-a-long Cassidy, so I booked a session with my physio. He always laughs when he sees me, because the fractured ankle story mentioned above involves me being naked at the time my foot broke, so its one of his favourites.

He looked into my injury and has determined that because my calves were too tight, that made me overcompensate on my walking, which put additional pressure on my foot, which has brought out all my old ankle gremlins. A quick massage later, and he'd relieved most of my immediate pain. I've got some exercises to do, but I do have to rest up over the next week. At the moment, I'm just looking forward to being able to walk properly again.

Ciao for Now, Giddy Up Cowboy Angry Dad.

Nipple Suckle

I've been bitchin' and moanin' because after I did the run on Sunday, my nipples became red raw. Yes, they're still called nipples regardless of whether you're a bloke or a sheila. This is what happens when your sweat laden T-shirt rubs up and down on your chest, and you haven't done the real jogger's trick of covering them with bandaids. It was after the race when I had a shower that I noticed how tender they were, and later on in the afternoon when I knew that they were bleeding.

Tonight I showed Anth. Talk about no sympathy. The little scabs had formed, and all she was interested in was giving them a pinch to make me understand what real pain feels like. The argument, of course, is that red raw nipples from running are no substitute for pain caused by a red raw nipple suckled on by a brutal baby.

Now I do realise that Callum, towards the end of his nipple sucking run, had a penchant for pulling the nipple out with his gummy teeth, along with giving it a good pinch and pull (much to his and my amusement) each time he'd had enough. They were always red raw, and she was always saying "Ouch, Callum!" And yes, I'd seen the nipple lanolin Anth had to apply to them to help the healing process. Maybe I should try some of that.

Ciao for Now, Crippled Nipple Angry Dad.

The 70th BBQ!

Well, I didn't take the camera to Dad's 70th birthday party at the restaurant, but my brother kindly hosted a BBQ out at his place on Sunday so all of the people from the night before came out and celebrated again with Dad and half of the grandkids. It was a shame my sister couldn't make it out from the U.S., but we got to talk to her and knew she was there in spirit.

I'm quite sure Dad had a great time. My brother's house has heaps of room, and as you can see, he'd put a few tables together so we could all eat a sumptuous feast of 4 different types of meat, salads, vegies and then finished off with desert. Mum did a quick speech on various aspects of Dad's life, and then Dad got up and talked about us, the kids, and things we'd got up to. When he started to go on too long about "Vomit" stories (e.g. Me about to vomit in a glider, Tania on a plane... ) Mum made him stop. As you can see, all the grandkids hung around - although I think it was to have a go at the cake rather than to listen to speeches.

A lot of dad's long time friends made it to the party. He had people that he'd done his apprenticeship with over 50 years ago, and that he'd remained friends with, come along. I can only hope to emulate that with some of my friends when I get to be that old. A good bunch of blokes.

Ciao for Now, Grandpa's Son Angry Dad.

Bridge to Brisbane

Today I ran the Bridge to Brisbane. Last night, I had to do the late night run back from Noosa to Brisbane, and I didn't get to sleep around midnight. Then it was up at 5:00am to pick up a friend, and make it to the starting line by 7:00am. It starts at the Gateway Bridge, and ends up at New Farm Park, close to the city. All up it is around a 12km run.

I was quite proud of myself in that I ran the majority of the way. I say majority, because the race attracts a large number of people. This year, over 25,000 ran the race! (if you click that link, you can see the newspaper article and some pictures!). The start is at the foot of the bridge, and as you can imagine, in the large crowd that was there it is difficult to run when you're all packed in like sardines. However, once I was over the top of the bridge, I started up my nice slow jog and managed to run the whole way.

I ended up doing around 11km in 1 hour and 8 minutes. Not blisteringly fast, but I kept up my rhythm. Apart from very sore calves, and now feeling quite tired, I don't think I'm too worse for wear. After the race I had to do the dash back up to Noosa for an afternoon BBQ for dad. More on that tomorrow!

Ciao for Now, Jogging Angry Dad.

Babysitter

This Saturday night we celebrated my dad's 70th Birthday. Actually, it was a weekend of celebrations, separated by a fun run. My mum and dad live up at Noosa, and mum had organised most of the festivities to happen there. We went out to a local restaurant, and a number of dad and mum's long time friends flew in or came up for the occasion. He had people there from all over the country, and it was a good night for him.

To help us out, my mum organised a babysitter for the evening. This is something that we rarely do. Having a child with special needs means that we can't normally get a run of the mill babysitter, and teenagers are out of the question. We also find that the stress of hanging near the phone most of the night worrying about the potential call of "Aidan has just done xxxx, and I don't know how to calm him down." (Substitute xxxx for your worst nightmares!)

Mum assured us she had a reliable sitter, and she seemed very good. We were still in the house for about an hour as she got used to the two older boys and we got ready, as she played and supervised the kids. Things actually went well, and although we had to take Callum with us we had a reasonably stress free evening. We did ring the babysitter and ask if everything was ok, and she said "Yes" and told us not to worry. Maybe we need to do that a bit more.

Ciao for Now, Babysat Angry Dad.

A Billion, Gazillion Dollars

When I was a kid, when you talked about money and getting as much as you could, I always wanted to be a "millionaire". In those days, which wasn't really that long ago, if you had a million dollars it seemed like you could do anything you wanted. Even the lotto wasn't going to get you a million dollars. There didn't seem to be that many people around who had a million dollars, although there probably were.

As the years went by, the value of that million dollars has decreased. It's almost to the point that being a millionaire seems to be a bit blase! In the movie Twins, back in 1988, Danny Devito seemed to suggest that they would be set up with the five million dollars that they would get from their stolen prototype jet engine. By the time the Austin Power's movies rolled around, in 1997 the whole concept of how much a million had to be changed by Dr Evil, because holding the world to ransom for that amount wasn't quite going to cut it. So what did he ask for? "100 Billion Dollars."

Of course, I'd still love to be a millionaire now. Does money by happiness? Probably not, but you could have a damn fine time spending it up to find out! I know that in Ethan's head, the concept of what's a real lot of money in this day and age is a cut above what I thought it was when I was a kid. To him, to make it, you've got to have a "Billion Gazillion Dollars." At least Bill Gates doesn't have that much yet, so I've still got something to aspire to.

Ciao for Now, Broke Angry Dad.

Student of the Month

Tonight at Taekwondo Ethan received the award for Student of the Month. This involves a very large perpetual trophy, which we get to have at home for the month, along with a medal for him to keep and a certificate for McDonalds. The instructor does this as part of the ongoing encouragement for the kids. The emphasis is on not only attending classes, but showing him that you are trying. Ethan's friend Michael won it last month.

He was incredibly chuffed to win it! I had to take him and Callum to the class, so I got to see his presentation. He got to go up and shake the instructors hand, and had a big grin on his face. Afterwards, in the car on the way home, he kept saying "I KNEW I was going to get it this month. I knew it Dad!" He also went on and on about how "Mum is going to be so proud of me!" And she was.

I'm glad that he's getting this opportunity, and I'm glad that the club we chose him to go to is so good in this area. I believe it his giving him extra confidence, and as there are now around 30 different kids in the class, it wasn't insignificant that he was chosen. We are really proud of him. Well done Ethan!

Ciao for Now, My Kids Got a Trophy Angry Dad.

Cruisin' and Causin' Havoc

Callum is now getting about with his Power Crawl and his new Cruisin' capabilities. Although he isn't walking just yet, he is now getting about quickly enough that you have to keep an eye on almost everything he does. Here's a partial list of mischief he is into.

1. A personal favourite, the toilet. He puts his hands in the toilet and splashes the water around.
2. More toilet humour. He unspools any toilet paper on the roll. We have 3 toilets. He does it to every one. I'll be wiping my arse with unspooled paper for a month.
3. He tries to crawl into the Dishwasher. Any time he hears it open, if he's at the other end of the house, swoosh and he's there trying to get in.
4. The bathroom door must be locked. He cruises along the bath saying "huh" (as in, I want to get in)
5. Computer cables. All computer cables are to be pulled out from their sockets. Oh, did I say pulled, I mean yanked.
6. No ironing. Iron gets yanked from the ironing board. Will cry when hit by falling iron... well, I reckon he'd cry.
7. The Bin and the Broom are not play things. The Broom does make a lovely banging sound when smacked against the bin. The inside bin should be emptied into the outside bin, not on the floor. Enough said.
8. Its fun to crawl all through the house when you've poo'd your nappy. Isn't it? Mum and Dad will clean it up.
9. The dog exists only so he can pull its hair and play with its dog bowl. Oh, and to eat his poo.
10. Dirt is made to be eaten. Any outside venture must include this culinary delight.

Can't wait until he starts walking. And I'm complaining now.... *sigh*

Ciao for Now, Forever Chasing Angry Dad.

Cough Cough... Who's there?

Ever noticed how when one kid at the local school goes out for the count, and your kid comes home and says "So and So was off school today sick...." that invariably your kid will be off school sick, and some other kid will be going home repeating that same phrase to their parents? Today, Ethan is that child.

He's got an ongoing cough, which of course meant that he could stay home and watch DVD's and play Mouse Trap, but God help him if you asked him to pick up his cars off the floor, or if you asked him to help out in any way. "Wail... I'm Sick... Cough... I'm so sick... Cough... And so tired.... Wail." My tolerance level wasn't very high this evening, and after he sat through a repeat episode of the Simpsons with nary a peep, when it came time to coming to the table for dinner it started up again.

"Cough, Cough. I'm not Hungry. Cough, Cough." We managed to get him to the table, and to eat some of his dinner, although it didn't last long. Then he went and sat at my feet and proceeded to cough all over me. I don't want his stinkin' cough! That's when I told him that if he'd finished dinner, and if he was sick, he should go to his room. Tears. Anth chastised me because he really is sick. I think I redeemed myself this evening because he's managed to sit up and fall asleep on the couch beside me sucking on a "cough drop lollipop". Now to carry him to bed.

Ciao for Now, Not Coughing Yet Angry Dad.