Cable… Unplugged

We are approaching the first anniversary of being in our new home, which means, you guessed it, our promotional cable price runs out.

 

This has been our first year (out of six) as a married couple with cable.  I’m somewhat of a television addict, and with the help of my wife, I have gotten my addiction under control.  As someone once said, “there are two kinds of people in the world, those who walk into a room and turn the television on, and those who walk into a room and turn it off.”  I have evolved from the former into the latter. 

 

That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy my fair share of the tube, but I now watch it only during specific times if there’s something I intend to watch.  Though I must admit, there is a lot I intend to watch.

 

Not having cable for well over five years was a way to help starve my addiction and to keep expenses down.  The only reason we got it a year ago was because it was extremely cheap as part of the promo bundle for phone/internet/cable. 

 

Well, the year is up, and so is the price — way up.  And, since we can’t cut phone or internet (on many days, they’re my only contact with the outside world), the cable has got to go.  Eliminating cable will reduce our new cost by $50.  That’s right, $50.  We could have reduced it by $60, but we opted for what they call ‘basic cable,’ which is essentially getting broadcast television through cable. 

 

No ESPN, no TNT, no MSNBC, no USA, and (horror of horrors), no Comedy Central.  I think we now get 27 stations, which is plenty, but I just wish they would let us choose the stations.

 

We’ve been assured by many friends that with the preponderance of web casts and video streaming, we shouldn’t miss too much. (Www.hulu.com anyone?)

 

I’m proud to say that this lifestyle change will have a very limited effect on the kids.  While they have exhibited tendencies to get sucked into the black hole of television, much like their father, we’ve limited their television viewing.  We really just let them watch PBS, and occasionally Nickelodeon and sometimes the Disney channel (when we had cable – oh, it hurts just writing that), so they won’t be missing much. 

 

We called on Sunday, and I had hoped it might take some time to happen.  Initially, I feared it would be instantaneous, like turning off a faucet (of flowing, sugary tv goodness.)  But they had to send a tech out, which gave us two days (and one final night with Jon Stewart.) 

 

In all likelihood, Karen and I will probably be getting to bed earlier.  No matter the upside, the loss of cable still stings.  But hey, there’s always the internet.  And since I need that for work, it’s not going anywhere.

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘Mac & Cheese.’

Let it Bee

For some reason, Luke does not like wearing his Halloween costume.  This year, he’s dressing as a bee.  Actually, he’s a worker bee — he carries his toy hammer.  He was supposed to wear a small tool belt, but he can’t stand wearing that either.  The bee outfit pulls over his heard, and Luke does not like things being pulled over his head.  Also, it has a hood, which he pulls off whenever we try to put it on.  Oh well.

 

We’ve been to three Halloween events so far.  The first one, he cried and screamed for the first five to ten minutes he had the costume on, but eventually got used to it.  The second event met with a similar reaction, but we had to take it off before too long because we were inside and the costume is quite warm.  And for the third and latest event, he refused to put it on at all.  At least he likes carrying the hammer.

 

Meanwhile, Charlotte is a Princess Bee.  “Why a princess bee?” you may ask.  Well, she’s been absolutely set on being a princess for the last two months.  Karen and I would have preferred something less pedestrian and less pink/frilly/froufrou than a princess.  But she was determined. 

 

The only reason she relented and agreed to add the bee element was when she heard that her brother was going to be a bee.  At which point, she announced she would be a princess bee.  “How about a queen bee?” her mother asked.  “No.  A princess bee.”  We could definitely live with that.  My wife even found an actual “princess bee” costume at Target (I think it was Target).  It’s has a fun skirt, sleeves, and wings.  Priceless.  (Actually, it was about $10.)

 

A bit of a costume retrospective:

Two of my favorite pre-kid costumes with Karen: 1) Abbey Road (I was the road, complete with cutouts of the four Beatles standing on my chest, and Karen was the street sign; 2) The Energizer Bunny (I was the bass drum, Karen the bunny.)

 

For Charlotte’s first Halloween, we went as “Charlotte’s Web” characters.  Charlotte was a very cute spider (of course), I was Farmer Zuckerman, and Karen, always a good sport, was Wilbur the Pig.

 

Last year, for Luke’s first Halloween, Charlotte was a king (her idea, which we loved), and Luke was a lion (the king of the jungle.)  Karen and I didn’t dress up, but I did strongly consider dressing as Elvis, in which case, we would have been three kings.

 

This year, we have been in full-swing Halloween mode for the past week attending Pumpkin Palooza in my wife’s hometown, a kids’ party hosted by our neighbors, and a party and story time at our local library.

 

At the neighborhood party, Charlotte really enjoyed her first apple bobbing experience.  She did inadvertently cheat, but hey, she is only three.  One of the other kids had suggested biting the stem of the apple to lift it up.  So she must have focused on doing that, which probably sounded difficult enough.  She walked up to the container, bent over, somewhat surreptitiously grabbed the apple with her hand, bit the stem, rose and faced the audience triumphantly.  One of the other parents, who missed the hand grab, was quite impressed with her how quickly she did it (or that she even did it at all.)  It’s an incident I will henceforth refer to as the “Trick or Cheat” incident.

 

Looking forward, the bee costumes could provide a great setup for our Christmas cards — if we can get a good photo of our kids in their costumes (wish us luck on that one), potentially with some Christmas stuff.

 

You guessed it: Let There Bee Peace on Earth

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of “Mac & Bees.”

Napoleon Me…

Many mornings, as I lie in bed listening to Luke talking and humming through the monitor, I find myself wishing I was exiled to a deserted island – or anyplace else where I could sleep in. 

 

Unfortunately, there’s no snooze button on kids.  While Charlotte can be easily convinced to snuggle in bed after she wakes up, Luke is raring to go when he wakes up (regardless of time).  If we bring him back to our bed and try to get him to snuggle, he refuses to stay still even for a few brief moments.  He squirms, pokes, kicks, crawls around the bed, and rides us like horses while clicking and neighing.  Ugh.  Then he’ll crawl out of bed, grab my glasses off the nightstand and attempt to put them on my face, often poking me in the eyes in the process while pleading “Eat! Eat!”

 

If only I could retreat to my own Elba or Saint Helena (without being imprisoned, of course).  Don’t get me wrong, I love my life and I love being a husband and dad, but it would be great to catch up on reading, movies, television, and, of course, sleep.

 

As the weather gets colder (and the house inevitably chillier), it will be harder and harder to get up.  In which case, please make my deserted island a tropical one.

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘Mac & Cheese.”

The Charge of the Night Brigade

“I peed in my pajama shorts, I peed in my pajama shorts, I peed in my pajama shorts.”  Our daughter kept repeating it, frantically, at a relatively high volume in the middle of the night, waking up me, my wife, and her brother.  It was about two weeks after she began wearing underwear, and it was her first accident at night.  (In the month or two since, she has only had one other incident.)

 

It marked a new episode in what I like to call ‘the charge of the night brigade.’  Bedtime and getting the kids to sleep through the night has been a constantly changing battle (often one of attrition), a losing cause in infancy but eventually one met with greater success (albeit with many ups and downs.)  In the ‘charge of the night brigade,’ victory is a relative term.

 

Recently, my son’s goal seems to be to sleep part of the night in his crib, then to wake up and cry until we bring him to our bed (a mistake, we know, but in the middle of the night, it seems so much easier to go for the quick fix.)  It’s cyclical – we’ve gone through this a number of times.  He’ll be sleeping through the night in his crib, then he’ll be thrown off by a cold, by teething, or by something else, and we’ll relent and bring him to our bed. 

 

Two nights ago (after several nights of midnight wakings), we put our foot down, yet again, and he seems to be back to sleeping through the night in his crib.  An upside is that he was able to share in one in the Red Sox late night victories with us – he canoodled his way into our bed right as the Red Sox won.  He enjoyed the highlights, excitedly repeating “ball” while pointing at the television.

 

What’s amazing is how wide awake he can be in the middle of the night.  He’s often in great spirits at 2am (yet at 4pm, he gets grumpy and inconsolable.)  He’ll laugh and poke me while repeating either “Dad” or “nose” (in which case, he’s poking my nose.)  Another favorite, he’ll climb on either me or Karen and make clicking noises, often while neighing and saying “horse, horse.”  It really is adorable.  I just wish it wasn’t in the middle of the night.  And for some reason, he likes to sleep perpendicular to us, and trust me, our bed just isn’t big enough. 

 

Sleep (or should I say an abundance of sleep, which is my preference) has been a casualty of parenthood, although less so now than when our children were infants.  Granted, my wife has borne more than her fair share of the burden, largely because of breastfeeding – there was only so much I could do during the first year.  Though there was a time, particularly with our daughter, when I had more success in getting her back to sleep.  It was what I like to call her Gambler period – when only the soothing tunes of Kenny Rogers (sung by your truly) could get her back to sleep without the assistance of a breast.  Over a year ago, the nighttime song of choice for both my kids became Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer (year round, every…single…night.)

 

As a family, we’ve settled into a relatively successful routine.  At bedtime, we head upstairs to the kids’ rooms, change them into pajamas and read a couple of stories together as a family.  We then separate, my wife and I each take a kid (alternating) for another story or two (quietly) and some soothing songs.  Then, ‘good night.’  More often than not, it’s a success.  Sometimes, not so much.

 

I hope you enjoyed tonight’s bedtime serving of ‘Mac & Cheese.’

The Routan Boom

Speaking of mini-vans, have people seen the new VW Routan mini-van ads featuring Brooke Shields? They’re very politically incorrect, but extremely funny:

And, if you’re interested a longer spot featured on the VW website:

 

 

 

The Siren Song of the Minivan

Like a sailor drawn by the siren song of the sea, I long for the space and versatility of a minivan.  (I know, a somewhat flawed metaphor. In a more perfect comparison, the mini-van would be the ship, the road would be the sea, but humor me.)  After being a parent for over three years, and a parent of two for almost two years, I have reached the conclusion that in the journey of parenthood (ok, I’ll stop with the clichés), the minivan is really the only way to go.  Unfortunately, we do not yet own one, but we anxiously look forward to the day we do; and I hope that others can learn from our mistake (i.e., not buying a minivan from the start.)

 

As we prepared to purchase our first “family car” after the birth of our first child, my wife refused to even consider the idea of a minivan (“I’m 26 – I’m not driving a minivan!!”)  Oh, how things have changed.  A minivan is now our dream vehicle.  With two kids in car seats, there’s no room for anyone else in the car besides the four of us.  If we even have one visitor or guest, we have to take two cars if we go anyplace. 

 

And that’s not even mentioning all our “stuff”  – the necessary accoutrements of parenthood and life: the double stroller, groceries, lawn chairs (for free, outdoor community concerts), balls, books, diapers, dolls, changes of clothes, jackets and sweaters, snacks, drinks, the pack and play for overnight visits, the red wagon for certain outings, etc., etc., etc.

 

And minivans have become so versatile in terms of layout — you can fold down the back seat, unfold it, fold it down 60/40, or 40/60, take out one of the first row seats, take out both of the first row seats, put one back in, put both back in, drive around the block, put all the seats back in, take them all out. You get the idea.  The modern day minivan is a chameleon that can accommodate a vehicle full of passengers or a van full of home improvement supplies (that’s right, I added extra insulation last weekend and a minivan would have been useful), or even a couple of sleeping people.

 

Ironically, it’s my wife who’s now trolling Craig’s list in search of a suitable minivan that we can afford (which we will not be able to find anytime soon.)

 

So you can take your Lexus, your Beamer, your Benz, your classic Mustang, your Ford Pickup, your Prius.  For me, true vehicular happiness would be an Odyssey, a Caravan, a Sienna, a Town and Country, an Entourage – I find the Entourage particularly appealing because I would be able to frequently use the expression “me and my Entourage” (or “my Entourage and I”, depending on grammatical context.”)  Oh, how I long for the day when I can announce that “My Entourage and I have arrived.” Or, “I’m going on an Odyssey,” I’m not overly picky, I just want a minivan.

 

I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘Mac & Cheese.’

The Big 3-0

An additional note regarding the genesis of the Disco-Garage (see Disco Dreams post): The reason (or excuse) for doing it now was the occasion of my wife’s 30^th birthday.  We went with a ‘Saturday Night Fever’ theme as an homage to the general time of her birth. 

 

So… “Happy Birthday” to a beautiful woman who not only humors my odd whims, but often revels in them with me (sometimes after considerable eye rolling and much convincing.) 

Thank you to all those who helped us celebrate! 

 

And now, for your viewing and listening pleasure, some John Travolta, the Bee Gees, and Saturday Night Fever (the movie, not the party)…

 (My daughter refers to Staying Alive as “Marty’s song” because she knows it from the animated movie Madagascar, featuring Marty the Zebra, who walks through New York as the songs plays.)

Disco Dreams

I recently realized one of my dreams: a Disco-Garage.

 

Simply put, we installed a disco/mirror ball, along with a motor and three pin lights, in our two-stall garage.  But it’s so much more than that.  Particularly in this case, the whole is certainly greater than the sum of its parts.

 

The garage has been transformed , creating a whole new world (spinning at three revolutions per minute): colored light splashing across the ceiling, walls and floor;  the utter joy on my kids’ faces as they groove to the tunes of the 70’s (and some from the 80’s); the sounds of a cow bell, vibra-slap, tambourines and shakers echoing through the garage.

           

I’d like to think we’ve created a common-day manifestation of a distinct period in the rich cultural history of the United States (specifically the Disco Era, although some might call it an error; but hey, it is the decade of my birth.)

 

For me, the Disco-Garage is a part of the American Dream, or at least my American Dream, a testament to American ingenuity and the glory of a by-gone era. (Another element of my garage-specific version of the Dream: to have a fire pole from an as-of-yet unrealized family room above the garage.)

 

I’m glad to say that my kids seem to have a true appreciation, even at their young ages, for what we have accomplished. They seem to recognize that we’ve done something special and somewhat unique, proudly announcing to friends and neighbors that we have a disco ball in our garage and inviting them over to dance.  Whenever we get out of the car, my son points up to the disco ball expectantly, asking (usually in a somewhat demanding tone), “off, off?” (He means on, but he’s at a stage where he has “off” and “on” reversed.)

 

Will they always have such an appreciation for what could be called my eccentricities?  Or will their joy and pride be commingled (or possibly replaced) with slight (or even extreme) embarrassment. Who knows, but I’m enjoying it while it lasts. 

 

I do hope that they always have an appreciation for the simple things in life, like dancing in a relatively empty garage as a disco ball spins overhead. 

 

I also hope you enjoyed today’s serving of Dad’s ‘Mac & Cheese.”

The First Serving of ‘Mac & Cheese’

I’m excited to submit my first post to my new blog, Dad’s ‘Mac & Cheese,’ which will henceforth be known as “my first serving of ‘mac & cheese’”  (cheesy, often wince-inducing jokes and wordplay are part of, what some might describe as, my sense of humor or ‘my style,’ for better or worse).

 

Hopefully, you’ll enjoy my blog and find it entertaining, somewhat useful, and worth return visits/servings.  My goal is for it to function as a type of Chicken Soup for the Soul (or as a Mac & Cheese for the Soul, if you will). 

 

That’s one of the reasons that I chose the blog title I did – there’s something wholesome, innocent and satisfying about mac & cheese (and hopefully my blog).  I make it quite often, as I’m sure many parents do.  Nothing fancy, usually just a store-bought mix (often with mix-ins, such as cut up leftover hot dogs, or vegetables), but occasionally from scratch (in which case, I love to add bacon.) But even plain old mac & cheese from the box is one of my kids’ favorites (in fact, I think they may prefer it that way.)

 

While I’m relatively new to blogging (started less than a year ago), I feel it’s already become a cliché to tell people that “I’m blogging.”   So I’ve decided that from now, rather than saying that I’m ‘blogging,’ I will say that I’m ‘making mac & cheese.’ (Another benefit of my blog’s title.)  That’s right, ‘making mac & cheese’ will now be my euphemism for blogging.  Although it can (and almost certainly) will be somewhat confusing since I do make mac & cheese so often (the food, not the blog).  I’ll often have to clarify, as I just did, whether I’m cooking or posting.  But I’m willing to deal with it.

 

I encourage you to check out the links to the right about me and the blog.  I plan to eventually include short lists of some of my favorite things, stuff my family and I enjoy, including books, movies, music, places, web sites, other blogs, etc., which I  hope to add to on a regular basis (I welcome suggestions for potential new lists and additions to existing lists, when they actually exist).  My goal is to post about three times a week, potentially Tuesday, Thurs., and on the weekend. 

 

And now for what will be my standard line to end each post…

            … I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘Mac & Cheese.’