Don't Blame Me

There's a nasty little rumor circulating around our household that I'm directly responsible for some of the girls' unladylike behavior. OK, OK...for ALL of their unladylike behavior. I think that's unfair. Just because I'm the only male in the house doesn't automatically make me a bad influence. That hurts my feelings. What hurts even more is the accusation that I am the one who "taught" my girls how to belch and fart. This needs be cleared up straightaway.

First of all, belching and farting are natural biological functions. The body needs some method to dispose of gaseous deposits within the stomach and intestines, thus, the belch and the fart. Some people choose to deal with the discomfort of those gaseous deposits and hold them in, people like, hmmmm, my wife for instance. Others, like me, choose to be comfortable, releasing those deposits with great regularity. As long as I'm in the comfort of my own home and there's no odoriferous accompaniment, I don't see what the problem is. So what it really comes down to is a matter of preference.

Now to address this business of "teaching". I have never, ever, sat down with either of the girls to discuss the proper form, posture, or technique for the maximization of bodily eruptions. It's not like I stop Kailey after she emits a breathy belch to offer instruction:

"No, no, no...come here. It needs to be crisp. You're limiting yourself by using just your throat. You need to utilize your whole torso. Tilt your head forward slightly and push from the diaphragm. Now try again."

Nor do I pull Kyra aside and whisper in her ear, "OK, watch and learn while I sneak up on Mommy and rip one on her head."

I would never, ever do that, primarily because Diane would kill me. I'm not that stupid. The girls have mastered this behavior, indeed taking it to the next level, entirely on their own. Kailey taught herself to swallow air and then shake the foundations of the house with her belches. And Kyra prides herself in snuggling up in my lap and wooing me into a false sense of security before unleashing anal fury on my leg. Each eruption is followed by fist pumps and whoops of wild laughter. And they have not learned this from me.

Do I discourage such behavior? No way. In fact, this is better than I ever could have imagined it, much less planned. See, my kids don't listen to me when I try to teach them things. They blow me off. They sigh. Loudly. They roll their eyes like they know everything in the world at the ripe old ages of 7 and 9. So the fact that they have taken enough interest in something to want to perfect it to an art form makes me beam with pride (and snicker). It's just too bad that they can't make a living as body eruption artists.

Or get a date.

My non-plan is complete.

It All Starts Here

Kyra's trek toward stardom commenced Wednesday afternoon at her school talent show. I don't know how she felt, but I was ready to puke for the both of us. I wanted to ask her if she was nervous before we went on, but thought twice about it because I didn't want to make her nervous. This is the same girl who was shy about performing in front of ten people at her birthday party. Now she was performing in the school multipurpose room in front of the entire school. The place was packed from wall to wall to wall with kids, teachers, and parents. I just wanted her to have a great experience and I tried in vain to push all the negative imagery out of my head.

Please don't let her freeze up.

Please don't let me forget the chords.

Please let me quit worrying about whether or not my fly is down.

We performed third (thank God), so my worrying was short-lived. They announced Kyra and we took the stage to generous applause. As soon as I came out from behind the curtain with guitar in hand, the applause died. Holy crap! What does that mean? Kyra grabbed her microphone and waited patiently until I got situated. Then we went for it.



I could just be a proud papa talking smack, but she nailed it. She was poised, confident, and sang out strong...and with hand motions, too! Hell, I wish I would have had her confidence when I was seven. I'd like to say that I can take some of the credit, but I can't. The only thing I really did was practice with her and let her do what she wanted to do. We're all so proud of you, Kyra!

I guess this means that I'll at least have one yearly gig from here on out, possibly two if we can get Kailey up on the stage. Now my only struggle will be to wean them off of Hannah Montana and onto Death Cab for Cutie. I don't see that happening any time soon.

Kyra at the Bat

I haven't written too much about the girls' softball games this Spring because there really hasn't been much to write about. Aside from Kailey making her pitching debut and a few defensive plays here and there, their season has been unremarkable. I think they've had about five hits between them all season long, quite a turn around from last season. I'm primarily to blame as I haven't taken had the time to work with them, and I feel badly about that.

This past week has been one of the crappiest of recent memory. I had final projects due in both classes, Kailey was sick, my boss was fired, creating turmoil in my department, and I spent way too much time talking with pushy mortgage lenders as we investigate refinancing the house. When we found out that Kailey woke up with a fever, meaning she would miss today's game, the last thing I wanted to do was go to watch Kyra struggle through the game on her own. Boy was I wrong.

The girls' team has thirteen players. Everyone bats, and in a three-inning game with a three-run limit per inning, only the first batters are assured of hitting more than once in a game. Since Kailey and Kyra have been sucking it up at the plate this year, they've been hitting at the bottom of the order and averaging only one at-bat per game. This morning only eight players showed up. There would be multiple at bats for all.

The girls spent the night with my in-laws, so my father-in-law got Kyra to field before the game. Diane and I arrived about fifteen minutes before game time where we met her coach in the parking lot. "I pitched batting practice with whiffle golf balls, and Kyra hit every single one," he told us. "Let's hope she does it in the game."

We'll see, I thought.

Given her impressive BP display, Kyra was slotted to bat second. The first batter struck out, and Kyra strode confidently into the batters box. She looked good. The pitcher threw four consecutive balls which brought out the coach to pitch. It seems like the only time I pray these days is when the girls come to bat. "Please, Dear Lord..." She swung at the first pitch and missed, strike one.

"That's OK! Good swing, Kyra! Watch that ball all the way to the bat!"

She fouled off the next pitch, strike two.

"Good job, Kyra! You got a piece of it! Now straighten it out!"

Coach held up the ball, made sure Kyra was ready, then sent it spinning toward the plate. There was joy in Mudville today, though. The mighty Kyra hit the ball. Fair. A high pop fly that dropped right between the pitcher, third baseman, and shortstop, who all looked at each other expecting someone else to try and catch it. It wasn't pretty, but Kyra got on base. We went ballistic.

She batted twice more, crushing the ball both times for doubles. She scored three times and the Vipers won a hard fought game 9-5. Better late than never, I guess.

After the game, her coach asked her what she had for breakfast.

"A cinnamon roll."

Breakfast of champions.

She's Got the Bug

"We've got to practice my song because the talent show auditions are next week!" It was Monday night and Kyra was in a mild panic. And that mild panic was about to transform into major panic.

"No, Sweetie, talent show auditions are this week. They're Wednesday afternoon."

Cue the breakdown. Fortunately, the two of us had already worked on a song for Kyra's birthday, so we already had a tune in the can. Meltdown averted. As you can probably tell, Kyra is our passionate performer. It's one thing to do karaoke in your family room, but quite another to get up the nerve to take your act to the next level: performing before your peers. I was proud of her drive and initiative, so we practiced. I told her that I could record the guitar track for her audition, but she looked at me with a pouty face and said, "But I want you to play for me." Remember all that crap I wrote about being the "co-keeper of the dream"? Time to put up or shut up.

Auditions were yesterday after school. I worked the morning shift, which allowed me to attend, but meant that I had been up since 3:30 in the morning. I'm not using it as an excuse...I'm just saying. I arrived at school to pick up the girls, and Kailey led us to the classroom where the auditions were being held. It was packed full of kids and a few parents. I didn't see any other parents lugging around guitars. I was hoping there would be a sheet posted with audition times, but no such luck. We would have to wait around until Kyra's name was called, and that could be a very long time. Fortunately, they sent all the kids who were playing instruments to another room to audition. We stuck around to watch a few of the acts...two girls with a gymnastics routine, two older boys cracking each other up with terrible jokes (What's the difference between a teacher and a train? The teacher says 'don't chew gum', but the train says 'choo, choo, choo'!), and two girls singing a duet...before someone noticed my guitar and sent us to audition with the instrumentalists, even though Kyra was singing. I didn't complain though. We probably cut our wait time down from an hour to ten minutes.

We arrived in the music room which was considerably less crowded with only about fifteen students waiting to audition. Much better. We listened to four auditions, all of which brought back memories as students played clarinet, flute, and saxophone arrangements of the very same tunes I learned at that age. Then the teacher turned to us. "And we have a guitar here?" she asked. Sharp as a tack, that one.

"Yeah, I'll be accompanying my daughter today."

"Great! And what song are you going to be singing today, Kyra?"

"I Miss You."

And with that, we were off. Kyra, did a fantastic job. She wasn't singing as loud or performing as animated as she had practiced, but that was understandable. This was her first audition, she was singing to a room full of strangers, and, oh yeah, she's seven. I watched her as I played, and my heart overflowed as she worked her way confidently through the song. I saw flashes of fame and fortune in her future, and it all started right here.

Then came the key change. Now I don't know if I was too focused on Kyra, too focused on my visions of grandeur, or if I was just plain tired, but I blanked...I couldn't remember the chords in the key change. I could feel the panic building from within, so I just stopped playing and collected myself for a moment. In the meantime, I thought Kyra's eyes were going to take over her head. I regained my bearings, gave her a cue in, and we finished the song to a modest applause, visions of grandeur blown to smithereens. Who knows, maybe I'm subconsciously trying to sabotage my daughter's music career.

I packed up my guitar and as we walked out to the car, Kyra, channeling her inner diva, stopped me. "Daddy," she deadpanned, "If we get picked, you're really going to have to practice."

She's so ready for Hollywood.

We Want a Pitcher!

Softball season has been in full swing again for the past month. The girls are on the same team this season with yet another team name and another team color, and their dresser drawers are now beginning to overflow with past uniforms. At least we won't have to shuttle between two sets of practices and games this season. Yee ha.

Still, I've felt a bit out of it because between work and my classes, I haven't been able to make any of their practices and only half of their games. I really hate that, but I look at it as a short term problem where hopefully in the future I'll be able to see all games and practices.

I was able to go to their softball game this morning where Kailey pitched in her first game. We were so excited and so was she. Kailey has been practicing hard on her pitching this season, coming an hour early to practices to learn and work on her technique. Throwing a softball underhand, hard, and accurate is no easy task. It's much more difficult than pitching a baseball, at least in my opinion, and I'm proud of the way Kailey has dedicated herself.



Her first outing was a little rough. She pitched one inning, threw two strikes, hit one batter, and gave up three runs. But she looked damn good doing it!



She said she had fun and wasn't nervous at all. That's OK because Diane and I were plenty nervous for her. It's a little nerve wracking when your kid's pitching and the crowd is dead silent, waiting for her to throw a frickin' strike. When she finally did, everyone cheered like the Cubs won a pennant.





When she finally got out of the inning, she came over to us grinning from ear to ear. Someday she'll gauge her performance by the numbers she produces, but not today. Today she was the pitcher, her team won the game, and that's all that mattered.



Oh yeah, and Kyra played one heck of a catcher!

She's Just a Laugh a Minute

Kailey's starting an early campaign for her run for class clown. I'm so proud. This afternoon as we were driving in the van, she was telling me how mean one of her teachers was because she wouldn't let them drink from their water bottles. "Yeah," she deadpanned, "Whenever one of us is bad she makes us sit on a stool in the corner with a pointy hat on our heads."

I immediately whipped around to look at her. "What?" I gasped, intending to launch a full inquiry into this heinous situation.

She cracked up laughing. "I'm kidding!" she cackled. "GOTCHA!!"

My mom, who was in town for Kyra's birthday, was riding next to me. I turned to her and shot her a look before joining in Kailey's laughter. She had gotten me. "Yeah, that was pretty good," I admitted.

We later picked Diane up from work and went out to dinner. As we were waiting to order, Diane was asking Kailey about some of her study habits, specifically about writing down her assignment information correctly. "So what did I say about that?" she asked as she tried to prompt the results of an earlier conversation.

Kailey shot back with perfect comedic timing, "Never to blow your nose in the dish towel?" After a moment of stunned silence, we lost it.

So while Kyra aspires to be Hannah Montana, Kailey seems to be following in the footsteps of Kathy Griffin. God help me.

Birthday Girl

Seven years have gone by way too fast. You came as a little bit of a surprise to Mommy and me. It took what seemed like forever for Mommy to get pregnant with your sister, and yet before Kailey even celebrated her first birthday, we learned that you were on your way. We weren't disappointed. In fact, we experienced a mixture of relief and gratitude as we realized we wouldn't have to wait years before having another baby. You were born on a Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, the ultimate reason for giving thanks. I can still remember your weary eyes staring into the face of your Mommy for the very first time. And it seemed like only yesterday.

Now, you're riding bikes, reading books, swimming like a fish, hitting the ball like Ichiro, and singing like a rock star. You have an inquisitive nature, an unquenchable hunger for knowledge, and a sweetness and sensitivity that I pray never goes away. And you have a laugh that fills my heart to the point where at times I think it might explode. I am so proud of you and hope that you have the best birthday ever.

Happy Birthday, Kyra-girl.

The Answer to Everything

Kyra is an inquisitive soul. Kailey, not so much. Kyra has a hunger for learning and wants to know ev-er-y-thing. Her favorite follow up question is "Why?", with "How come?" as a close second. Her hunger for knowledge is a constant reminder of just how much I DON'T know about stuff in general, and most of the time that I attempt to give thorough answers to her barrage of questioning I end up sounding like a complete moron. For example, here's a question from this afternoon:

"Daddy, are there trees that touch the sky?"

OK, immediately I am doomed from the start. What exactly does she mean by "touch the sky"? These are the type of things I need to filter from the get-go in order to give a thoughtful, semi-intelligent answer. Oh, and I'm driving. Being a man means that multitasking is not my forte. "We-ell, there are these trees that are called Redwoods. They're really big, tall, big trees that go way up into the sky. I think they're the tallest trees in the world. There's a forest of them in California. Did I mention that they were big?"

"Do they 'touch the sky?'"

"Y-yeah...I guess so."

pregnant pause

"Maybe you should Google it."

She's six. And I'd be lying if I told you that it didn't hurt a little bit to have a six year-old tell you to Google something in order to come up with a satisfactory answer to her questions. What's worse is this has become Kyra's default response to ANY of my answers. I've heard "Maybe you should Google it" no fewer than a half-a-dozen times in the past 24 hours. I'm telling you, my confidence is shot! Never have I felt so much pressure to give a satisfying answer to a little kid. Telling me to Google something is the equivalent of saying, "Daddy, you're so full of crap that I need to pull up my boots!"

I wanted to say something like, "Oh yeah? Well if you're so smart why don't YOU Google 'Trees that touch the sky' and see what kind of 'satisfactory' answers YOU find. And don't you pull that but-Daddy-I'm-just-learning-to-read baloney on me either." But being the semi-mature adult that I am, I refrained. Instead, I Googled "Trees that touch the sky" just to see what brilliant material I would find. Suffice it to say that I'm quite satisfied with my big, tall Redwood tree answer. Perhaps one day Kyra will come to appreciate my brilliance. Or perhaps her teenage perception of her father as an idiot set in a little early.

Thank Goodness I Don't Prance Around the House Naked

This afternoon, Diane took Kyra to Starbuck's to work on her homework while Kailey was at tutoring. The place was fairly busy with many patrons occupying several of the closely spaced tables. They picked a table next to two older women and proceeded with Kyra's homework. The ladies took an interest in Kyra working on her homework, and when one of them went to use the restroom, the other engaged Kyra in conversation. She won't make that mistake again.

"Boy, I wish MY Mommy would've taken ME to Starbuck's to do my homework when I was a little girl." she teased. They continued with a little chit-chat when the lady asked Kyra if she had any brothers. "That's good," the lady said, "'Cause those boys sure can be a lot of trouble."

Without missing a beat, Kyra blurted, "I know. Whenever my Daddy farts, he yells, 'BARKING SPIDERS!!' It's so annoying!"

And with that, Kyra rendered the chatty lady speechless while Diane practically peed her pants laughing. While what Kyra said was probably not socially appropriate, it was true: I do sometimes yell "Barking Spiders" when I fart. I suppose it's time for me to examine some of my other household behavior before it becomes Starbuck's Kyra fodder.

She's Got My Back

One thing I love about being a dad is those moments when one of my girls does something that catches me totally off guard, leaving me speechless and breathing deeply for fear that I might lose it right in front of them.

At the beginning of the school year I established a morning routine where, after either gently or rudely awakening the girls from their peaceful slumbers, I would give them piggy back rides to the family room while they picked the crusties out of the corners of their eyes. I have spoiled the girls with piggy back rides and the girls have come to expect them. Imagine their disappointment when, a couple of weeks ago, I woke up and could hardly get out of bed due to pain in my lower back. I am no stranger to lower back pain. It comes and goes in phases, and I can usually work my way out of it over the course of the day. But for the past two weeks, it's been too much to work through first thing in the morning. So not only do the girls literally receive a rude awakening, they then have to stumble to the family room on tired little feet.

The girls have also become accustomed to my back pain. They know better than to ambush me from behind as they have seen me crumple to the floor, crippled with pain, on more than one occasion. They've seen me struggle to get up from the couch like an 80 year-old man, and they have also "adopted" lower back pain to get out of doing things they don't want to do.

Earlier this week, I was surprised to find Kailey sitting up in bed when I walked in to wake her up for school. Trying to wake Kailey up is like trying to wake the dead. She's the one I most often have to resort to the "rude awakening" to get out of bed. I shuffled into her room clutching my back and trying to work out the kinks. Her eyes lit up when I entered the room, and as I sat down beside her, I noticed she had her allowance money spread out across her bed. "Hey, Sweetie. Whatcha doing?"

"Dad. I saw this commercial yesterday for this bed. It's called a Tempur-Pedic. They put a glass of wine, like this red wine, on one side, and they jumped on the other side, and guess what? It didn't even fall down! But on the other bed, they jumped on it, and it spilled all over the bed!"

"I'll bet that made quite a mess," I laughed, knowing exactly what commercial she was talking about.

"Yeah, it did! When I saw that commercial, I thought I could buy you a Tempur-Pedic bed for your back!"

I sat there staring at my daughter, dumbfounded as I realized what was going on. Kailey woke up that morning and pulled out her allowance money to count it and see if she had enough to buy her old man a bed that would ease the pain of his aching back. Kailey has saved quite a bit of money for an eight year-old, but nowhere near enough for a Tempur-Pedic. Believe me. I've checked. But the fact that she was willing to spend her savings on me blew me away. I tried to say something, but the words clotted in my throat. So I reached out and gave her a big hug while I composed myself.

"Thank you, Sweetie. That's very kind of you," I finally managed. I wanted to give her a piggy back ride right then and there; hell, I wanted to buy her a pony, anything to show her how much I appreciated her gesture of kindness, but knew that somehow it would all fall short. So I did the thing that she needs most from me: be a dad. Love her. Protect her. Care for her. Provide for her. I helped her put her money away and we walked hand in hand to the family room where I resumed my morning ritual duties. Only on this particular morning, I did it with a little more spring in my step...bad back and all.

Tourney Time: The Good Part 2

If I know anything about blog readers, it's that they'd much prefer reading about the bad and the ugly over the good. So I'll try to make the good brief, then move on to the juicy stuff.

Southeast had its first single-elimination tournament game Sunday morning against Tanque Verde. We cruised to a 7-2 victory and started to look like the team I envisioned prior to the tournament. Southeast was hitting its stride at just the right time because our next game was a rematch against The Amazon Women of Sahuaro, pictured above. As you can see from the picture, #8 is our tallest player. The three Sahuaro players at the left of the picture are all as tall, if not bigger. The whole team was like that. It was David vs. Goliath.

The atmosphere was electric, the tension, palpable. Parents of the Southeast players, quiet for most of the tournament, came to life. It felt like we were playing for a national championship. Pitching dominated the game. We hung with them for the first two innings, holding them scoreless. But the Sahuaro pitchers were too good and too plentiful, rotating in a new pitcher each inning, and our two pitchers eventually wore down in the heat. Sahuaro had two three-run innings and sent us home 6-0. Our tourney run was over, but we gave them a hell of a fight. After the game, the Sahuaro coaches told our coaches that we were the only team to give them a hard time up to that point in the tournament.

Kailey went 1 for 1 at the plate against Sahuaro, and was one of the few Southeast players to get on base. She fouled off one pitch from the Sahuaro pitcher, who was throwing smoke for a 12, er, 8 year-old. Kailey eventually drew four balls from the opposing pitcher and then hit a single off of her coach. It wasn't her best hit, but it was probably one of her best at bats. Since she batted at the bottom of the order, she never had more than one at bat per game. She batted .500 for the tournament going 2 for 4, with one strike out and one hit pitch. Not too shabby.

And I can't say it enough: Kailey toughed it out. Actually, all those girls toughed it out. It was hotter than hell out there and they were tired from playing so many games, yet they gave it their all. Not bad for a bunch of 8 year-olds. Hopefully they collected more than just their participation medals (that's what's going on in the picture. Kailey is the one walking back in line). I know that whenever I look at Kailey's medal, I'll be reminded of the hard work and the fight that she and her whole team put up in her first All-Star tournament. And I'll remind her of how proud I was.

Sorry kids, it's late and I'm tired. The tournament bad and ugly will have to wait another day.