The Poopie Monster

I was brought out of bed yesterday morning by a scream from my wife. I went out of the bedroom to see what the issue was when I saw her, wide-eyed, staring at Preston. His pajama bottoms were wet and as she turned him around, he had a nice chocolate-colored stain (with matching "mass") around his rear-end. Preston had creamed his pants.

Also noticeably present was a chunk or two about the size of dimes on the carpet around his feet. These had obviously broken away from the mass that had so apparently filled his underwear and had fallen through his pantlegs and onto his feet and the surrounding floor.

Looking down the hall a bit further, I saw another chunk.

Michelle was paralyzed with contamination fears.

I walked down the hall, careful where I stepped (sometimes, the only way you know about the chunks of brown matter is when you step on one of the smooshy little suckers), and peeked around the corner and down the stairs. Two more chunks where seen on Stair #5 and Stair #11.

I also knew that a typical potty-stop of this kind is preceeded or followed by a drainage of the antifreeze, so to speak. I dared not mention this to Michelle on fears that she'd call in the National Guard or local HazMat team, and I'd be thrown out of the house in my underwear.

I grabbed a wipe and proceeded to collect the strays when, to my horror, I say Amberlee with the same chocolate-colored stuff in her hand, mashing it into the carpet.

What a fun way to start the day. After doing a detailed search for additional strays, and Michelle going through an entire bottle of Lysol, I think we got the situation under control. For now.

But, this kid is completely unresponsive to any potty-training techniques. I need advice and ideas!! Please post some for me! For reference, the following techniques have not worked:

1. Bribes (with candy, Hot Wheels, chocolate, hugs, toys, TV, etc);
2. Threats;
3. Cold water (to wash him off);
4. Self-cleaning methods;
5. Duct tape;
6. Positive reinforcement;
7. Negative reinforcement;
8. Prolonged toilet interaction (making him sit till he "goes");
9. Teaching through Ethan's/Chrissa's/Daddy's/Mommy's example;
10. Routine and consistent hours (such as bedtime, awakening, lunchtime, etc).

My only option is to physically attach the toilet to him rather than him to the toilet, so he can continue running around (albeit rather slowly) while getting his mess into it. Or, maybe searching for military schools for preschoolers. Help!

Why Pennsylvania

I was a bit amazed at some reaction I had from friends and relatives this past week when I was in Idaho attending grandpa's funeral. On at least four occasions, I was asked, "How do you like Pennsylvania?" My response: "We love it!" "How could you? Its all 'big cities' and crowds!"

Well, since I was unable to convince anyone through verbal cues, I'm ready to offer some visual ones.

How about this:

...or this?

or try this one:

Maybe this?

or this:

another one to feast on:

No, sorry, none of these were enhanced in any way on the computer. They are true-to-life. And, they are all right around the corner from where we currently live.

Add to these the fact that our town is small, family-oriented, surrounded by farmland, modern, clean, and is within just hours of anything on the eastern seaboard of the United States, and you can see (I hope) why me and my family like it here.

Anyone convinced yet? For any doubters, our house is open for visitors, and you can see all of this in person.

Four Days, 4,716 Miles, and the Gray-Haired Express

Whew... what a week. It all started in Pittsburgh this past Tuesday morning, where I flew to O'Hare in Chicago for the day, then flew to Phoenix the next morning, then to SLC. From there, I drove to Burley Idaho for grandpa's funeral, then to Idaho Falls for the night, then to SLC again the next morning. From there, I flew back to Phoenix and on to Pittsburgh to round out the trip.

Flight miles alone: 4716. Add roughly 500 miles driving distance, and all I can say is-- whew.

Flying is usually a circus, as I'm sure anyone can attest to. The trip from Phoenix to Pittsburgh, the last leg of the journey, was the most entertaining. As I got seated about mid-plane, on came a convoy of roughly 16 senior citizens, obviously Phoenix-retirees, based on the wide assortment of attire they had on. While descriptions would take a lengthy discussion, including one with a mink coat (Phoenix was 95 degrees at the time) and hair nets that nearly got caught in the overhead compartments, I'll describe one man in particular. He had on blue polyester pants, white velcro shoes, and a skin tight white t-shirt with an "AT&T" logo on the front and a breast pocket filled with-- you guessed it-- pencils, pens, and a calculator.

They boarded the plane together. They all sat down together. Within 5 minutes, other passengers, who were obviously supposed to be seating amongst them, began to cause quite a stir since it was apparent the retirees had not taken their assigned seats. Rather, they simply sat wherever they wanted.

The stewardess arrived and began the task of unraveling this gray-haired knot, causing some of the older men to get angry. "Musical chairs" ensued-- without the music. Up and down they all went, and it took 3 or 4 times for them to get it right. The plane was delayed 10 minutes as a result.

When we were finally airborne, and roughly 2 hours into the 3 hours and 45 minute flight, they all got up together. It reminded me of the articles I read on the hijacking of the 9/11 planes when all of the terrorists got up together for their jihad. So, I thought-- great! We are going to be hijacked by 90-year-old suicide bombers. Instead, they lined up and began walking to the back of the plane to commandeer the bathroom. They took turns using it (estimated time: 1 hour) and got back into their seats.

Unfortunately, there was no further entertainment for the remainder of the flight. Maybe they all went to sleep, not sure. But, once the plane landed, it started again-- some of the old men arguing with their wives about who gets the bags or who gets off the plane first. Ladies getting upset that people were ruffling their hair nets. Canes getting caught in the arm rests.

For an otherwise sad week, this really made me smile.

A Tribute To My Grandfather

Yesterday, I got the sad news that my last remaining grandfather had died. Sad, but relieving, knowing the last several years had not been good to him.

I have many memories of him as I grew up, most of them surrounding our family reunions, boating, fishing, and his motorhome. I also recall many days at their house during the summer, jumping on the trampoline, swinging from the huge tree in the backyard, walking the walls in the old beaver farm. I recall the work in the huge family garden-- and I remember the annual "chicken kill", where the family would get together and act like a bunch of bloodthirsty cavemen-- grabbing chickens that grandpa had raised during the year, chopping their heads off, feathering and gutting them, and stuffing them into bags to be taken home to various family freezers. The scene, as I remembered, was one of a well-tuned "live chicken to freezer bag in under 5 minutes" machine.

In all of it, there was grandpa-- making sure his kids and grandkids had what they needed, and he worked tirelessly during the good years to help out where he could.

Perhaps the biggest memory was me spending the week at their home while I had the chickenpox. Grandpa showed me how to use his computer which, at the time, was the latest gadget to be had.

Over the years, especially the last 10 or so, I slowly began to hear of all the things he did for others during his life. He never sought recognition for it, as evidenced by the length of time it took me to learn of them myself. If someone was in need, somehow Grandpa did what he could to offer his help. No fanfare, no afterthought. Just his natural Christian response to things.

He worked hard and set a quiet example to all of us-- especially me. Never did I hear him raise his voice to others. He was a deep man, quietly going about his business setting an example to be followed. He never demanded respect-- it was just given to him due to his reverence and integrity.

Take care, Grandpa. You'll be missed.

Meet the Parents

Mom and dad (mine) came to visit us last week. It was a great week. Kids loved having someone else to hang on-- besides me.

Michelle pulled out all the stops and set up a week-long vacation for all of us. We spent a couple days in Hershey and Hershey Park and stayed at a bed-and-breakfast that was, in all honesty, the best "hotel" experience I have ever had.

For those of you looking to go to Hershey any time soon, stay at the Keener House in Elizabethtown... you won't regret it. Google it.

Then we went to Philly for sightseeing-- Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, etc, with a brief stop at Valley Forge. Mom and I are always on the look-out for historical places, and Philly was loaded.

We stayed a few nights at another bed-and-breakfast outside Lancaster. Nice place, not quite at the same level as the first one, but we had the place to ourselves. It was a converted barn, believe it or not. And, no, we didn't wake up to the mooing of cattle in the basement. There was, though, an actual outhouse just down the driveway. The neighbors owned it-- they were Amish, of course. We thought it was either a joke or someone's wierd idea of landscape decorations, but our thoughts came to a conclusion when we say Ms. Amish lady trotting to it from the house and disappearing inside. Literally, it was right on the driveway going up to our B&B.

We then went to Lancaster in search of anything Amish. Furniture, food, entertainment (not sure what that would entail). Ate at buffets and bought homemade Amish root beer (yik... it was enough to gag a horse). I have this fascination with this culture. Maybe I was one in an earlier life.

Our only loss, to my knowledge, was our camera. I'm not pointing fingers on this one, but it was somewhat ironic when just a few days before, Michelle complained about it and indicated she wanted a new one. My response was the camera we had was good enough. Suddenly, somewhere in the parking lot of Hershey Park, it comes up missing. "Suddenly". Hmmm.

Before we knew it, the vacation was over, and mom/dad were back on the plane to Idaho.

Check out our photos, right side of the blog page.

...GONE

The house has sold. I wouldn't have believed it myself, but it happened. Only one year and 2 weeks after it was put on the market. And, we only lost $500 on the deal.

So, in order to prevent a jinx on it, I'm not going to say anymore. Just a bit gun-shy with this whole thing-- who knows, maybe we forgot a signature somewhere, and the whole deal will come apart.

House: we'll miss you.