Categories
Dad Blogs Family Fatherhood

Billions of government PSA $$…down the drain.

“Just say no.”
“This is your brain on drugs”
“The more you know”
“Give a hoot, don’t pollute”

Those good ol’ Public Service Announcements. Billions and Billions spent trying to persuade the public towards a viewpoint that someone in the government decided is the right one. And here we are, decades of PSAs later and as a 34 year old adult, I’m still falling prey to peer pressure!

Oh, I’m not taking drugs or setting forest fires or anything like that, but my wife and I have bowed to parental peer pressure and it’s just as insidious as anything you might find peddled on the streetcorners of today’s inner-cities.

At my children’s daycare, in addition to the activities that they provide in-house, they apparently also allow outside vendors to come in. One such vendor is a company called “Playball.”

For a paltry $80, your child can enjoy 8 weeks of 30 minutes playtime sessions (1 per week) with their friends. Do you see the genius here? If you don’t “let” your children take advantage of this wonderful program, then they must endure 30 minutes of exile while their friends have fun. Who wants to be that kid? What parent wants their child to endure such horror?

But let’s do the math. If even 8 kids per class of 14 does it, and they can do 4 classes each day, that’s a cool $360 a day for 2 hours of work. Not a bad racket.
And really, how much does each child get to do in an “instructed” play class in 30 minutes when there are several other children also involved? So really, for each parent that pays for their child to take the class, they aren’t paying so that their child can actually improve their ball skills; what they are really paying for is “inclusion.”

Peer pressure. Criminey! I never smoked pot and I never set a forest fire, but by golly, my children have caused my fall! But it doesn’t have to be so with you.

Remember, “You could learn a lot from a dummy!”

Categories
Dad Blogs Family Fatherhood

Let’s talk about God baby…Let’s talk about you and me…

In keeping with the title of my blog (Postulates & Pasttimes), today’s entry is more along the line of Postulates–the religious kind to be more precise. Come, walk with me and let us talk about this religious stuff…

I was raised in a Pentecostal-based church. We moved around from Church of God organizations to Assembly of God organizations because basically they believe the same thing. In fact, I’m not sure what the difference is, once you stop concerning yourself with how they govern themselves. Although, the Assemblies of God do have a better Web site, so one point for AoG.

Among other things that Pentecostals believe, is the fact that as babies, we are born sinners and unless one repents of his or her sins, he or she cannot go to heaven. Now, there is a grace period that all babies and children get; meaning that if a child were to die before a certain age of awareness, then they automatically go to heaven. This core belief is fundamental and pretty much set in stone. You can go from one church to another and hear the same thing.

Another belief that is set in stone is the idea that Jesus will one day suddenly come back to earth, surprising everyone. He’ll then collect his people (“..in the blink of an eye…”), persecute the rest for a very long time, then basically bring heaven back down to earth where folks will live in peace for a while. Oh, also during this time, the Devil will be loosed back on earth in a last-ditch effort at turning folks and then he’ll be banned for all time. Even as a child, I found flaws in this belief. My biggest “oh right” is the idea that the Devil will be given a chance to convert people who are living in “Heaven on Earth.” Now, why would anyone who is in “Heaven” possibly follow the devil? Whatever…moving on.
(Note: If you’re really interested in this stuff, read Revelations.)

However, one area that there appears to be some gray area around, is what happens after you repent of your “original sin“. I’ve heard it preached that if I ask for forgiveness and I turn around and sin one time, and if after having sinned, and before I ask forgiveness again, the Lord should happen to come or I die in some horrific accident, then I’m doomed to suffer on earth until Judement Day.

Now, though I’ve never heard it specifically said, I’ve heard others hint at the idea that simply accepting Jesus as your savior and asking for his forgiveness is enough to get you into heaven as long as you strive to be good from there on out. This idea obviously holds more appeal for most people, which may be why the churches as a rule are integrating this into their theology, albeit unofficially.

So what does all this have to do with my blog entry you ask? Well, I’ll tell you…If scenario A (first one above) is true, then if the Lord comes while I’m typing this up, then I’m going to hell.

Yes, according to Pentecostal belief, I have sinned and “…come short of the glory of God.”

See, my wife is out of town and I’ve been watching the boys the last couple of nights. Monday night was fine. Both went to bed normally and the baby only woke up once.

Last night, however, was a different story. My eldest went to bed fine, but my youngest woke up four times during the night. On top of that, I have come down with a nasty little cold–in fact, all three of us have–and when you couple no sleep with being sick, well, let’s just say I would have fit right in with a compliment of sailors last night…and no, I haven’t asked for forgiveness yet.

Sleep well…

Categories
Dad Blogs Fatherhood

And we drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and drink…and then we puke and puke…

Last night’s menu:

– Grilled chicken breasts “hand rubbed” with olive oil, Old Bay seasoning and garlic powder
– Grilled asparagus marinated in a lime juice, olive oil and sea salt marinade
– Mashed potatoes topped with a generous spoonful of butter
– Big Fat Yeast Roll
– Beverage of Choice (mine was a vodka and iced-tea mix)

As I was plating the food, my eldest announced he needed to poop. Now, my son suffers from “holditin-itus” and thus, anytime he needs to poop, you can pretty much bet he needs to poop. This led to a 30-minute exercise in family-dining-futility as I held the baby and dropped copious amounts of food on my lap and the floor (family dog was in heaven), while my wife sat on the stool in front of my enthroned son and read books. By the time she got to the meal, it was cold and lifeless.

Which is a shame too because it was really delicious, especially with the hot sauce/bar-b-que sauce mixture I made to go along with it.

This is about the 4th straight day of poopage for my eldest, which is somewhat of a record. This morning though, he complained of cramping, so perhaps its time to dial down the laxative (Miralax) again. Only, last time we did that, five days later it was “out with the suppository” AGAIN!

But what really startled me is how thin my son is now. I mean, he looks like a growing boy who gets a lot of exercise (which he does/is) rather than a slightly chubby 3-year old who does nothing but sits on the couch (which he doesn’t/isn’t). I can actually see his little ribs and tummy muscles, which I haven’t been able to see in a long while. Makes me wonder how long some of that stuff has been in there…yuck.

For the record, we do have a Dr.’s apt. scheduled with a GI doc since our Pediatricians seem to think his only problem is that we don’t force feed him enough bran muffins and water. Like they’ve ever had kids…

Categories
Dad Blogs Family Fatherhood

34 – And Hating Every Minute of It

A couple of weeks ago, my wife purchased for me a new shirt and some shorts for my birthday. When I opened the box containing the shorts, she said, “I think they’re your size (34), but they look big.”

Sigh…

Now, I have no illusions that I’ve maintained my pre-marriage weight. I mean, who can with all the dining out that today’s lifestyle almost requires; not to mention all the junk we have lying around the house for the kids. And oh Lord, but I love cheese!

In an attempt at balancing out my slovenly lifestyle, I also work out approximately 4-5 times per week in addition to any yardwork I do in the interim, so ultimately, I blame my mom’s genes for my sluggish metabolism. And I can’t expect umpteen cups of coffee to keep me ramped up when faced with 8 hours of office-cubicle chair sitting.

But it’s a wake-up call when your wife, very innocently, says you look fat. So here I am today eating protein shakes and fruit, while just trying to make it through the day without gassing the place out. (did I say that out loud?)

Coincidentally, or not, I also turned 34 this year and I sincerely hope this doesn’t become a new trend. When I’m sixty, I’d rather not have a similarly numbered waist size.

Kids: 40 years from now when you find this blog somewhere and you read it, don’t think of your old dad as a narcissistic schmutz. Just remember that once, I too aspired for underwear model greatness.