Eating Well

When I was just entering adolescence, there were nights my mother would look at me across the dinner table and say, "I hope you never order spaghetti when you go out on dates someday." What she was witnessing must have been an awful sight. I'm sure all I thought at the time was, I hope I have a date someday.

I now know exactly what it was she was seeing. When C eats, it looks like an animal grazing, his face a mere inches over whatever it is that's for dinner. Only this animal can use its hands. Or, rather, this animal has hands, but they're somewhat vestigial. More like flippers, really. With his elbows on the table, he's able to bring the pizza or chicken or forkful of pasta up to his face and very, very close to his mouth. What results is a face covered with gravy or sauce or an oil of some kind, like a praying mantis trying to eat a fish. It truly is an awful sight.

I kid him in this way because I know this will pass, and because I helped make him and kidding him is my right. Over time he'll learn manners through our gentle reminders and fake vomiting sounds. We may make him start eating in front of a mirror, or using a bib. I may take dinner in the other room until he's 30 or so.

It passed for me, this mastication mess. I learned how to eat properly, eventually using a napkin and getting that fork in there the first time. And now I almost never order spaghetti on my dates.

Cat 2

I’m not sure how it happens, I’m usually too busy to study it in the mornings, but sometime between the kids waking up and us all leaving for school, the house becomes landfall for what appears to be a category 2 hurricane.

As we walk out the door, I survey the damage like a president making an official visit. Blankets, cups, toys, books, articles of clothing and a paper plate or two are strewn about. Water has collected, there’s a smell, and our getaway begins to look like an evacuation. The house is uninhabitable for the day. I’m not even sure how we make it through the morning.

In the afternoon, Kristy will appear like FEMA to clean and sanitize. Or at least push the debris to the side so the pathways are passable. They’ll have to be so that supplies can be brought in and replenished. We’ll need more provisions to get us through the night. And it would be best if all of those rations came individually wrapped so that those wrappers can be blown about tomorrow when, inevitably, another storm will wreck havoc.

Change

I've been hearing a lot about change lately. Every time I turn on the television it's "change ... change ... change ... change, change, change ... change ..." And change is good, my kids are always asking for change.

There's a lot changing with me right now and you'll find out more about it when I'm ready to speak of it. Until then, enjoy my latest column in today's The Commercial Appeal.

Reading is Fundamental

Sometime back, the powers that be over at The Commercial Appeal did away with the books page in the Sunday edition. Oh, sure, there's still the back page of Viewpoint which is handy for a short listing of literary events in and around the city, and a few book reviews written by faceless people far from here, but there's no room to spread out, to delve into story and character and theme. No space to shake the dust off a classic's jacket.

However, all is not lost for the literary-minded. A ragtag group of Montags have overtaken a corner of the CA's website and named it "The Shelf Life." It's a place where the spines are aligned and no dog-earing is allowed. Try not to spill your espresso on the keyboard.

Occasionally I have time between all the lunch-making, laundry, lawn mowing, chauffering and working to read a book. I recently read Paul Auster's latest novel, Man in the Dark, and I wrote about it for "The Shelf Life."

Funny Boy

Last night at dinner I was telling everyone about a story I'd heard on NPR on the way home about a Harry Potter lexicon that a fan was seeking to publish, but which had been blocked by a New York judge, saying it was too close to the original work.

Kristy began explaining the lexicon and Potter lore to us. There is a lot of information about Harry Potter to grasp, apparently. More than I needed to know, anyway. More than anyone living outside of their parents' paneled basement needs to know, really. But Kristy has read all of the books at least twice and is a font of Harry Potter knowledge.

In my own sarcastic, sardonic manner, I referred to the lexicon as a "nerd-clopedia." And, without missing a beat, C said, "Did you get yours yet?"

The comment caught me off guard and, as my chest swelled with pride, all I could do was laugh. Even though it was aimed at me, it was very funny, smart and timely. Smartass comments are practically a rite of passage in this family and he nailed it.

C took a brief step out of childhood last night, just like that time that Harry Potter made that potion ... or used his wand or whatever to put that spell ... on a Hobbit or Sleestak ... or something like that.

JP & Me

Back when C was the only kid we had at Downtown Elementary, I would pick him up from school most afternoons and he would come back to work with me. At least once a week we'd stop on the way home at a Midtown coffee shop and have an espresso and a hot chocolate, and we'd usually play cards and talk. It was a nice way to get a little one on one time for each of us.

JP started piano lessons again yesterday. I'll be picking him up on Thursday afternoons and I thought yesterday it would be nice to spend some time with the boy.

We stopped by a different coffee shop and I had a double espresso while he enjoyed a chocolate milk. And we both sat staring at each other. It's not that we don't like each other, of course, just that neither of us are very good conversationalists, I guess. I'm better with people closer to my age and he's better with the aid of a television or with his brother nearby. So we just sat, somewhat awkwardly, looking like I was about to have the talk with him. Or he with me.

I asked him about his day and the field trip he'd taken. And then we sat some more. I think I said something like, "This coffee is hot" and he nodded.

Finally I asked him if he wanted to play a game on my phone and he leaped at the chance. We were both relieved, I think.

I'm sure he appreciates the time alone, or will grow to should we keep it up. Maybe over time we'll come up with our own inside jokes and an easy conversational style together.

Or maybe I'll just get him his own phone.

Because I Said So

Somewhere beyond the sea
Somewhere waiting for me
My lover stands on golden saaaaaands
And watches the ships that go sailing ...

There is little The Quartet loves more than my mellifluous singing voice. "Just like Bobby Darin, Daddy," they say all the time.

The only other thing they like as much as me singing to them is me spending long stretches of time away from them, and that's what I wrote about in my column for today's The Commercial Appeal.

Duck!

We took The Quartet to the Memphis Redbirds baseball game yesterday. It was fun, but as is JP's nature, he's always thinking about that next thing. What are we going to do after this? He was unhappy, pouty and said he didn't want to be there.

Rather than saying out loud that he'd rather be at home playing computer games, however, he seized on the episode last April when his sister was hit by a foul ball at AutoZone Park, and said he was scared he was going to get hit by a ball. I told him that was highly unlikely. I told him that if a baseball hit him that day then I would buy him his very own computer.

And then I spent the rest of the afternoon prepared to throw my body in front of that kid, because I could take a contusion much easier than I could the bill for an Apple.

The Keys Are By the Door

These kids cannot keep their hands off each other. The living room has become like a cage match. And not the good Pay-Per-View, ultimate fighting kind, either. Nobody's paying to watch this; I'm not making any money here.

And they won't listen to my threats, so I've made a new rule: I will not drive any children to the emergency room. So if one of them gets hurt, then they have to wait until one of their siblings is old enough to get their driver's license. And that one of their siblings is able to pass the test. They'd better take it easy on C, you don't want him getting injured as he's the nearest in age to being able to drive.

There it is, a new law, written in stone. Kids, you may now begin ignoring it.

SAHD

It's my understanding that that acronym up there stands for "stay at home dad." I'm not one of these. In fact, I work six days a week, and have for about nine years now. But GK's school was closed this week and, though we had childcare for Monday through Wednesday, we were left in a lurch for today and tomorrow.

So I stayed at home to be a dad.

GK and I began the day by taking the older kids to school, and then made a run to Office Depot for some supplies. We dropped those off at my store and took a minute to sit and read the paper.

After that we went to Cafe Eclectic to have an Americano, Eggs Florentine and some of their homemade doughnuts with local auteur Craig Brewer and his family. Brewer and his family actually sat about five feet away, so I guess we weren't together together.

We went to the playground at Overton Park from there, but GK was only really interested in the water fountain, so we didn't stay long. We went home to read books, do the dishes, watch some Blues Clues and dance around to CDs before she fell asleep and I could finish reading my book.

I was only a SAHD until 2:30 when I dropped her off with her mother at school. I'm good at being the sole parent for about six and a half hours as far as I can tell. In that six and a half hours, GK ate a waffle sprinkled liberally with chocolate chips, a couple of doughnuts, two cookies and an ice cream sandwich.

Perhaps she should have run around more at the park. Perhaps she should learn to prepare her own lunch. Perhaps I should have asked Craig Brewer for some fathering advice.

Hopefully I'll get a call back tomorrow.

The GK Advisor

Time for more help from two-year-old GK!

GK,

With your perspective as a child, perhaps you can offer insight into a question that has baffled me for years: why are children so freaking loud?

Harley Fontaine

GK: Why are these people so loud? I live here with three children and their chatter is incessant. When they occasionally stop talking, it's only to screech and wail.
Me: Are you suggesting to the writer that you don't add to the din around here?
GK: Who?
Me: Mr. Harley Fontaine. He wrote the letter asking you a question about loud kids.
GK: Letter? I'm telling you to go in the other room and shut those kids up for once. I'm trying to pay attention to the rhetoric at the Democratic National Convention.
Me: Have you decided for whom to vote this November?
GK: That's really none of your concern.
Me: But I'm your father.
GK: And, yet, I wouldn't vote for you.
Me: I'm not running.
GK: Thank you for that.
Me: You're being very disrespectful.
GK: Close the door on your way out, those kids are on my last nerve.

[To have your questions answered, please write to gkadvisor@gmail.com.]

GK: Lock it!

Most Mistake

The Commercial Appeal has released their special section Memphis Most in today's paper.

I worked on this section for two and a half weeks. Halfway through working on it, I lost almost half of what I'd written, yet still managed to finish three days before deadline.

If you look at the section itself, in the paper, I wrote every syllable from page 18, Most "Memphis" BBQ Sauce, to page 36, Most Boundless Beer Selection. That's 34 categories; nearly 9,000 words. And, if I may, it's all pretty good stuff.

For some reason I was left out of the list of section writers on page 1. I'm not sure yet why that is, but I hope to find out soon. In the meantime, the categories I was responsible for are:

• Most "Memphis" BBQ Sauce
• Most Beloved BBQ Joint
• Most Prime Steak Dinner
• Most Enticing Burger
• Most Savory Slice of Pizza
• Most Sensational Sushi
• Most Profitable Business Lunch
• Most Satisfying Biscuits
• Most Revered Sunday Brunch
• Most For The Money
• Most Craved Catfish
• Most Romantic Restaurant
• Most Delicious Deli
• Most Tempting Bakery
• Most Vietnamese Restaurant
• Most Bountiful Buffet
• Most Fine Dining
• Most Italian Restaurant
• Most Indian Restaurant
• Most Kid-Friendly Cuisine
• Most Thai Restaurant
• Most Chinese Restaurant
• Most Mexican Restaurant
• Most Mediterranean Restaurant
• Most Japanese Restaurant
• Most Exotic Cuisine
• Most Scrumptious Seafood
• Most Wholesome Health Food
• Most Popular Pub
• Most Cosmopolitan Night Club
• Most Masterful Martini
• Most Fanatical Sports Bar
• Most Bona Fide Blues Club
• Most Boundless Beer Selection

Little By Little

I've had to learn on the fly how to make the morning routine run as smoothly as possible. And I'll do whatever it takes. When the older kids were smaller, it was competition: who could get dressed first, who could get to the car first. It helped to propel them to where I needed them to be by a certain time so we could get downtown, or wherever else we had to be, on time and with little or no whining, complaining or insubordination.

I've learned this week that GK needs a task. It seems to take her mind off of the fact that her mother isn't in the house and that she's about to be left someplace. So she now spends the mornings delivering and fetching things. She seems to enjoy taking the kids their lunch boxes and I parcel them out one by one. She runs, calling out to them with their box in hand, "S! Your lunchbox!" When that's done I have her go get a brush or her shoes or whatever else I can think of.

This week has been rough, though increasingly better, and today was just beautiful. She did her various duties at home, chattered all the way to the big kids' school and then no crying when I dropped her off. Finally.

When I left her she was chattering away to one of her favorite teachers, Miss S, saying, without stopping or breathing, "That my lunchbox, My bag, My mommy's name is Kristy, My pants, My shoes, Saw a rat in the kitchen ... "

Of course, this is the start of the weekend, so she has a couple of days to forget all about how much she doesn't mind being left. But I imagine each day and each week will get easier and easier. I have a good imagination.

Blurb

I get some nice comments about my column for The Commercial Appeal, though not on their website, of course. For some reason people stay away from commenting there, but do so in person and through direct e-mails. It's very nice and I'm appreciative of any recognition.

Last week a guy came into my store, made a purchase and then said, "Are you the one who writes that blurb in the paper every couple of weeks?" I could almost sense my mother swelling with pride.

So, again, thank you for reading and check out the latest blurb freshly published today.

Tarzan

For my birthday last week I was given a Tarzan the Ape Man box set, the old movies starring Johnny Weissmuller and Maureen O'Sullivan. I grew up on these movies, watching them every Saturday afternoon that they were on, and was eager for my own kids to see them.

C and I settled in Sunday morning to watch a couple as the other kids bounced in and out. When Weissmuller makes his first appearance in the first movie, he comes swinging in through the jungle. And C says, "It looks like he's on a trapeze." Well, of course he's on a trapeze, but it took me years to figure that out. C spotted it in the first five seconds.

I don't know if these kids today are just used to the CGI special effects and digital animation, and expect everything to at least look real, or if they're just less willing to suspend reality.

He seems to know that sea sponges don't wear pants, square or any other shape. He understands that a spider bite doesn't result in the ability to climb walls, shoot webs or wear your pajamas in public. And he has been made to understand that there is no semblance of talent on American Idol.

So why pick on Tarzan? Why point out what's wrong with my childhood heroes? I don't go around making fun of Dora.

Okay, actually I do. And he can certainly expect more of that from now on.

Last Week

I'm not a fan of writing the posts just to tell you what I've been up to lately without going into detail. I've just been too busy lately to pick out one thing and extrapolate, yet I feel that some things need to be put down for posterity.

I'm probably wrong about that, but here we go. A few things from last week:

• The kids began school and GK began at a new sitter that Kristy found online only two days before. GK was miserable going to this woman's house. And, apparently, this woman was miserable as well because only two and a half days into it - that's about 16 total hours worth of effort - she let Kristy know via e-mail that she was done watching our daughter as of the end of that day. Having that much notice was really helpful, but Kristy scrambled and got GK back into the place she stayed last year, which is fine, just more than we can afford. We'll figure something out.

• I took the Volvo to be inspected a couple of weeks back and it failed due to a broken lens cover on the front driver's side turn signal, so I was unable to renew the tags. This city is really on top of things, a murder every two days on average, but they're not going to let me get by without that piece of plastic covering the bulb, by God. But I digress. On the way to school the other morning, just around the corner from our house, I noticed a police car turning on the road behind me, so I turned into the next parking lot so as not to have him behind me at the upcoming stop sign and notice my expired tags. C asked what we were doing there in that lot and I told him, which probably won't win me Parent of the Year.

• Thursday was my birthday, and I got to begin that day by taking GK to her new (though old) daycare. She completely melted down when I left her, which was a great way to start my day out. That was followed up by a visit to the neurologist to find out what can be done about the numb index finger and thumb on my right hand. He prescribed steroids, thus quashing my Olympic dreams. There's no way now I'll be able to pass for a 15-year-old Chinese gymnast.

• I ended up having a very nice birthday with cake and ice cream and presents and friends and family.

• I put a wounded rodent out of its misery with a Louisville Slugger.

• The Google kicked me out of their AdSense program. They sent me an e-mail telling me that "... we found that your AdSense account has posed a significant risk to our AdWords advertisers." I have expired car tags, a murdered rodent on my hands and Google running scared. This city makes you mean.
  

• The kids finished out their first week of school and it was a rousing success. They all survived, they're all happy with their teachers and they all have most of their school supplies.

It was a hectic week and one that made it difficult to keep up with, both in real time and here on the interweb. There was a lot going on, and almost too much to handle on any given day. But it was better than being a rat.

Socially Studying

When I got home from work yesterday I asked the kids how school was and C chimed in right away, "My teacher is really cool. He taught us Social Studies and I didn't even know it. He was just talking to us and we were learning."

Isn't that the best way to teach and to learn? To talk to the kids like they're small people instead of puppies to be trained? To converse with them instead of lecturing or forcing a text book down there throats?

I think it's going to be a good year.

School Dazed

Today is the first day of school and the morning went as well as I could have dared hope.

Waking The Quartet up two to three hours earlier than they've been used to this summer was fairly easy. The excitement of new backpacks, lunchboxes and shoes had something to do with this, I know. I have no delusions that every morning will be so simple.

Everyone was dressed, fed and out the door in a timely manner. I took the older kids to school first. The building was packed with parents and children, teachers outside their rooms greeting their newest wards, and, though it appeared chaotic, it was surprisingly quick and easy to get in and out.

S was a bit hesitant as we entered her room, but her teacher was one of JP's last year and, so, familiar to her. And once she saw one of her friends, she was all set.

JP handled Day One as he handles everything - in stride. He said hello to his teacher, hung up his backpack and found his seat, no doubt ciphering just how long it would be until he could get himself back in front of a television.

C had gone upstairs to the 5th grade by himself and GK and I went to check on him after depositing the other two. He is not, sadly, in the same class with his two running buddies whom he's been with every year since kindergarten. He was already seated, so I just waved to him and couldn't speak to him to find out if this is a problem. Something tells me it is, though he'll soon see that they'll have lunch and CLUE together. He'll do well, he always does.

We left the school and GK was being chatty and sweet and was the kind of happy that makes me want to spend all day with her. But I couldn't. I had a chiropractor appointment and had to be at work, so it was off to the sitter.

GK was less than thrilled with being dropped off. This is a new sitter for her, but that isn't really the point. She cried at drop-off nearly every day last year. I know she doesn't cry for long, I know it's just the moment of being left behind that upsets her. But it's that moment that upsets me as well. Has been ever since I began dropping C off at daycare 10 years ago.

I hope they all had a good day. I hope they'll all forgive me for being the one to abandon them every morning. It's for their own good. They'll see that one day, though it may not be until they have their own kids and are dropping them off at my house for me to take care of and to explain that their parents aren't really bad people for doing so. They're just cheap.

The GK Advisor

Another helpful hand from two-year-old GK.

Me: So, what do you think?
GK: I'm sorry?
Me: I just read you a letter from a reader asking your advice.
GK: My advice?
Me: I posted a while back on this blog that if anyone needed advice on any subject that they could write and ask you a question.
GK: You have a blog?
Me: Yes.
GK: Fine. These curlers have to set for about 15 minutes anyway, so shoot.
Me: Here we go. Chris writes, Dear GK, can you help me with the fewer and less predicament? Are there fewer calories or less calories in my beer? Please help!
GK: You know, this makes me think of a piece I read in The New Yorker not long ago about the reclusive physicist, Garrett Lisi.
Me: Really? How is it relevant to the question?
GK: Oh, it isn't. I just automatically start thinking of something else when you're talking.
Me: I see. So can you help Chris?
GK: He's a grown man concerned with the amount of calories in his beer. I think the only thing that will help him now is to take stock of himself, and of his wife's closet, to see if any of her skirts match those pumps I imagine he's wearing right now.
(Ding!)
GK: My hair is ready. See you later, old man ...

[To have your questions answered, please write to gkadvisor@gmail.com.]

GK: Bring me my mojito!

Hit Me

Sometime in the last week, Urf! attained the 50,000 hits milestone. If I had a penny for every one of those hits, then I'd have $500. And if I had $500 then I'd actually only have about $485.16 ... it's a long story.

Oddly, on days that I have a column in The Commercial Appeal, my daily hits here actually drop. Perhaps you have a low threshold for me, it's certainly understandable.

Regardless, I have a column in the paper today. If you can stand any more, then please check it out. I actually get paid for that and I could use all the pennies I can get.