Gobble this up

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.  Our Thanksgiving was rather mellow.  We ordered our "feast" from Marie Callenders, and I would definitely recommend the experience to others.  It's just much easier.  And what I mean by the last statement, is that it seems much easier, because I really have no idea what it would be like to cook on Thanksgiving.  I, like all great American men, like to spend this day giving thanks for football and misogyny.  But I did feel much less repressed shame doing nothing  - knowing that Mindy was doing less.  So that was nice.  And of course I did get up off my ass to swoop in for my 10 minutes of glory dissecting an animal.  And this turkey carving experience was fantastic.  Turns out, we had actually only purchased a turkey breast.  I had no idea this was the case when we brought the food home, because the thing easily weighed five pounds.  Which really got me thinking that it was a shame that I never got to see this turkey intact.  She sounds spectacular.  But carving up a turkey breast with no bones really simplifies the procedure.  I decided to whittle the meet into replicas of the Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria to everybody's delight.  Ok, that didn't happen.  But I wanted it to.

Mindy's parents brought over a photo album commemorating the life of Mindy. It was really fun to see all the pictures of lil' Mindy.  Do you remember a few posts ago when I mentioned that Cameron and Carter looked almost identical as babies?  Well, I think we figured out where they get that from.  It was uncanny how much baby Mindy looked like Carter.  Whatever baby gene Mindy's family has passed down is really, really strong.  It doesn't know the bounds of gender.  It tramples over whatever weak little Caucasian genes you throw in there.  It just dominates.  Mindy and I have been meaning to introduce a game where we put up pictures of Cam and Carter at around the same age and challenge y'all to pick out the correct Graves' son.  But I think we might need to add one more baby option to this game-show.  Now the only thing left to do is to come up with a catchy title for this segment.  "Name that Asian" feels it possibly may be offensive.  "I know that baby, maybe...?"  has a decent ring to it, but I don't want to settle.  Feel free to post some ideas in the comment section.

During the Thanksgiving meal, Mindy had a fantastic idea.  She asked the table if they would like to share "their biggest regret of the year" along with what they are most thankful for.  Because Mindy didn't have to do much cooking this year, I think she subconsciously decided to create a "recipe" for how to create holiday drama.  Bringing together relatives into forced intimacy and then springing on them deep questions about things they regret seems like a pretty awesome concoction.  It all worked out fine in this situation, because nobody was dumb enough to answer the question with any honesty.  But I recommend you try it at home. 

Speaking of honest feedback, I think it's about time for Cam to experience some more criticism in his life.  He has just gotten way too much praise.  Yesterday morning when we were discussing our plans to hang Christmas lights, he asked me "why am I such a good helper?"  I said, "Because you're good at figuring stuff out and are fun to hang out with."  He said, "And I'm always cute."  Too which I laughed and said, "Yes, and very humble."  But he didn't get my sarcasm, he just noticed my amusement, nodded with a smirk of self-appreciation and added, "Yes, and I'm also funny."  Couple interactions like this with the fact that earlier this week he tried to charge me admission to come cuddle with him at bed time, and I'm thinking we definitely need to knock this little dude down a few pegs.  Time to replace nightly affirmation hour with a little "Daddy is playing for real" time.  That and a verbal sprinkling of reality that cuts to his little core should do the trick.  Don't worry, I learned all of this in graduate school.  I'm a professional.

That's all for today.  Here are some things to look forward to in future blogs.  Carter is in his "strangers aren't sure what gender I am" phase, which has supplied some pretty good moments. Cameron is about to play on his first soccer "team" and it is going to be coached by a good friend.  If this situation doesn't provide bloggable moments and opportunities to terrorize my friend, then I don't know what will.  And Reilly continues to descend deeper into his postpartum depression.  But if he can muster enough energy, he has hinted that he would like to make a return to the blog.  We shall see.

Happy Holidays,
Father

Domesticate Ya

Mindy made some pumpkin flavored pop tarts for a Fall get-together this past week.  They were quite tasty.  Cam is not so sure. Consider this exchange: Cam bites into a pop tart and a look of sheer disgust spreads across his face.  Mindy says "Cam, you don't have to eat that if you don't like it."  Cam munches on, but appears as though he is consuming something closer to raw sewage than a pastry.  Cam looks up at Mindy and sheepishly says, "It's good.  I just like to take small bites."  Verrrrrrryyyyyy tactful son.  Well played.

Cam likes to roll around everywhere he can on his scooter.   Not too long ago Mindy and I were sitting on the couch after putting Cam down for bed.  We hear his bedroom door open and Cam rolls out on his scooter to get some water.  He then rolled back to the bedroom without a word.  His scooting can be quite unnerving.   It often has the feel of Gob on his Segway in Arrested Development.

Speaking of being on the couch after Cam was put to bed, Mindy and I recently got busted engaging in some inappropriate behavior.  Let's just say it involved the two of us, some sucking, and... Cam's Halloween candy.  Mindy and I were sent scurrying like teenagers when the bedroom door unexpectedly opens.  It was an eye opening moment to realize how much I fear my son.  And this was probably the greatest act of treachery that we could have committed.  Cam treasured his Halloween candy with Smeagol-like intensity.  When he got home from trick-or-treating he dumped all of it out in the middle of the living room.  For days after, he would come up to Mindy and I and ask us if we would like to join him in "looking at his candy."  And then he would just sit and admire it.  He was very proud of himself for "earning" all those sweets and often opined about how "hard" he "worked" on Halloween.  I think we might have sparked a less furious reaction if we had taken his lifelong "blankie" and fashioned it into a diaper for Carter.  Let's just say it was a night of great violence in the Graves house.  I emerged relatively unscathed, mostly because I was able to utilize Mindy as a human shield.

Cameron is in the heart of the "why" faze.  Truly, he's been in this phase for over a year.  But the intensity of it has really ramped up of late.  What his questioning has really made me realize is how little I know about anything.  By the end of each of these exchanges we've reached a point where it becomes difficult to muster a coherent answer.  I've asked repeatedly for phone a friend privileges, but that just leads to him asking me why, and me having to explain the reasons behind my idiocy until I need help again.  It's not a self-esteem boosting exchange.  So, I've taken to completely making things up.  Why is it cold today?  The sun is tired.  Why?  Because he stayed up really late playing Minion Rush and used up his solar energy to keep the I-Pad charged?  Why?  Because the sun often has insomnia.  Why?  Because of discomfort from his irritable bowel. And on we go.  It donned on me lately the true reason why people often become more religious when they have children.  Claiming the work of a higher power is really the only way to stand up to this line of questioning and save face.  But I see that as a cop out.  I'm going to make shit up instead.  It's way more fun.

See you next week,
Father

This is what's up

The following sentiments are truth.  Do not interpret as figurative or sarcastic.  Read, accept, move on with your day.

• My freezer looks like an episode of "Hoarders: The Breast Milk Edition"
• When you are the son of a psychologist you quickly learn many ways to express anger toward your parents.  Consider the following interaction between Cam and I on Halloween after we were briefly separated in a crowded cat tunnel (don't ask). Cam: "I'm mad at you because I couldn't see you." Me: "Sorry about that." Cam: "I'm really angry." Me: "I hear you." Approximately 30 second pause.  Cam: "I'm serious." Approximately 30 second pause Cam: "I'm still cross." And with that it was clear that we needed to cut down his Thomas consumption and stifle his emotional expression.  So I responded in a way I knew he could grasp. Me: "Stop being cheeky or I'll take you back to that tunnel and wall you in like Henry.  Now be a useful little engine and give me a Snickers."  You might not have any idea what some of that meant, but preschoolers all over the world would be shuttering in fear.
• Speaking of Halloween, there was much debate about what Cam wanted to be.  Mindy asked him daily for a 2 month period, so as it neared we had quite a few options.  At one point, he wanted the family to go in a construction theme.  He said that he wanted to be an excavator.  He told Carter he was going to be a bulldozer.  He told Mindy she was going to be a steamroller.  And he told me I was going to be a pumpkin.  My son is already a master of social aggression.  A few days before Halloween, Cam had it narrowed down to a couple of things.  He either wanted to be a Chick-Filet worker or a princess.  Just to clarify, he either wanted to go as a cross-dresser or a homophobic fast food worker.  I wanted him to go as both to make a political statement.
• Mindy seems to be enjoying her new gig.  She has infiltrated the ranks of multiple Mom's groups.  There seems to be a lot of walking, eating, gossiping, and organizing.  I'm not sure what the kids do - but fun appears to be had by all.
• Carter smiles at just about anything.  He can sit up by himself,  but he's not quite mobile yet.  Those of us in the parents biz call this stage "perfection."
•  Cameron is in a very competitive stage.  I hear you grow out of this stage in your 40s.  I, like all intelligent parents before me, use his internal drive as a means of manipulating him into doing what I want.  "I'll race you to the car," "first one to the bedroom wins," "I bet you can't sit quietly while I concentrate on my fantasy football lineup"...  these are just a few of the motivational tactics I like to employ.  But I'll tell you, I haven't experienced this much losing in my life since Hope basketball.
• Cam, Mindy, and I are super into these "endless running" aps.  We started with Ninja Quest and moved onto Minion Rush.  We help Cam learn the skill of waiting his "turn" by making him watch us dodge obstacles and collect tokens.  Again, a good time is had by all.  And Cam is remarkably skilled at these games.  Forget sports and reading, I'm thinking professional gamer is his calling.  Now is the time to focus our collective efforts.
• Cam just returned from an outing with a Mom's group.  He interrupted my blogging to announce that while he was there he enjoyed "watching a little girl pee."  And with that, I think I should wrap this up and do a little parenting.  This is what happens when you allow trains, ninjas, and minions to raise your children.

Good job listening!
Papa

Number 2

And this is the way of second borns.  Baby 1 got a blog specifically created for it 7 months before it even existed.   Live streaming updates from the birth itself.  Editorials on his facial expressions, feeding schedule, and bowel movements.  Over 250 posts chronicling the minutia of his development.  Baby 2?  I think I can pretty much sum up what happened in a couple of paragraphs.

We went to a hospital a couple of weeks ago where Mindy doped herself up, chatted with a nurse about reality television, and sneezed out a 8 pound, 7 ounce alien.  Upon arrival there was a moment of confusion when the baby was African American.  But it turned out that the young one had quite a bit of facial bruising from Mindy spiking her pelvic bone into his face during descent.  We named the entity Carter Edward Graves and moved to the next hospital room.  Hospital employees frequently commented on how strong he was.  Then he had his penis maimed.

Apparently Mindy and I only make one baby prototype.  I mean, he looks a little different from Cameron did, but it's pretty much just an updated version of one model.  We also only produce children with early Jaundice, so Carter got to spend a few days under the tanning booth.  About two days after birth, I'm happy to announce, the milk arrived.  There was no nipple confusion (which I like to imagine as a baby vision where he is surrounded by a maze of nipples into which he keeps colliding with no escape).  He seems to have mastered eating, judging by how fat he is getting.  He also is relatively chill, other than the frequent zombie straining noises he makes while pushing gas and shit from his body. 

Personally, I rarely interact with the new one.  Sometimes he's crying while Mindy is in another room and I'll pick him up and carry him back to his owner.  But that's about it.  Me and Cam get to spend even more time together now and have formally made a power alliance. Nobody is sure where Reilly ever is.  The battle for household domination is clearly afoot.

In all seriousness though, Carter is a healthy little boy.  Cam is adjusting fairly well to being a big brother.  He's been really sweet and gentle with Carter so far.  And I've invented a symbolic newborn advent calendar - where basically I eat a lot of candy, drink a lot of beer, and count the days until a hint of normal life returns.  Note to potential father's out there: if someone tries to sell you on father hood by minimizing the trauma of the newborn period you should punch them in the face.  These are dark days that you push through.  That is all. 

Thanks to everyone for their well wishes and support.  Special shot out to Mindy's Dad and my Mom for all of there help while we were still in the hospital and settling in at home.  You made our lives soooo much easier and I am very thankful! 

And that about sums it up.  I'll be back around Carter's high school graduation to fill y'all in on how he turned out.  I have high hopes for this one.  I hear he's really strong!

Father

Planes, Trains, and Naan

Me and Tinker Bell have a lot in common.  We both work in bolstering the psyches of children, we often soar through the air, and we are extremely jealous of mermaids and Tiger Lilly.  But most of all, we are both so insecure that we are only driven to action by the praise and affirmation of others.  For instance, I have basically had two hairstyles in my life.  Other than a brief mullet phase that was trending in the fifth grade, my early years were spent rocking the little-boy comb to the side look.  Then one fateful day my Sophomore year of high school a female classmate ($10 bucks if a high school buddy can guess who this is on one try...) off-handedly mentioned "hey Mike, maybe you should try spiking your hair?  That would look good on you."  Boom.  18 years later and now I'm a middle aged man with spiked hair trying too hard to be relatable with adolescents.  I'm still waiting for somebody to tell me that a different hair style looks good on me so I can do something about this.  However, Mindy and I did receive some praise and requests for our blog this weekend.  So here I am.  And if you were one of those people complimenting the blog this weekend, just know that you have revived it just like the audience revives Tinker Bell in the musical.  I am imagining every one of you sitting around me right now, starting with a slow clap, and then building to a thunderous ovation of love and approval.  I must bring the blog back to the people!!!!!!

Because it has been so long since we've blogged, I thought I'd go with the rapid fire cliff notes version of the summer.  This is what's been up:

• Cam talks in phrases now.  This includes gems such as: "I'm scratching my itchies," "I don't want to go to school," "Momma go the kitchen!" and "I farted a poop."
• I committed my first child-related sex offense by parading around a public pool full of children for about 45 minutes before realizing I had a large rip down the back of my board shorts. 
• We traveled to Yellowtone with my parents and sister's family.  Mindy and I explored the majesty of God's paint brush.  Cameron explored the majesty that is YouTube train videos.  Which brings me to my next point...
• Cameron has become obsessed with the railroad.  Close your eyes and imagine the island of Sodor.  Ok, you just saw our kitchen.  Every night at prayer time I diligently ask God to grant Cameron the finger dexterity to attach those Thomas train cars together by himself.  One day!
• I have been blessed to hear Mindy and Cam debate at least twice a week about whether or not a certain red train at our house is Victor or a special edition red Thomas.  The discussion generally goes like this.  "It's Victor."  "It's not Victor."  "Yeah, it's Victor."  "No, it's not Victor.  It's Thomas."  "Yeah, it's Victor!"...  Let's just say this issue remains unsettled. 
• We had an awesome time attending a Sikh / Hindu wedding in Sacramento.  I learned two truths about myself.  I really like Naan and Indian dance music.  Also, just a heads up to whoever "weddings" with me next:  I will have a wad of one dollar bills in my hand at some point, I will lick my pointer finger in a really suave manner, and I will proceed to make it rain on the dance floor.  I've never actually seen that before and I didn't realize how awesome it makes you look. 
• Some things don't change.  Such as, Cameron still thinks that all Asian women are Mindy.  A very awkward exchange occurred at the park this weekend as Cameron chased a woman around the playground calling her Mama, grabbing her legs, and bossing her around.  Even as I stood right next to him and explained that the woman he was groping was not his mother - he paused, looked her dead in the face, then commanded "Mama go down slide."  It was uncomfortable for me.  I felt like I might as well just tell this woman "I find you very attractive."
• While visiting old-town Sacramento this weekend Mindy made the following statement, "Old Sac is so cute."  I think this bodes well for our future together. 
• I also continue to be befuddled and disturbed by children's literature.  Check out this gem from a potty training book.  Feel free to sing along to the tune of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" if you want.  Because you can.
Tinkle, tinkle on the floor
That's what Bob did till age four
And he pooped on the den chair
On the couch, or anywhere
He'd poop on your welcome mat
On your swing, or on your cat
 
Seriously?  WTF?  One question - is there nothing a little less visually alarming that rhymes with mat.  One professional opinion- somebody needs to get Bob some intervention pretty quickly. 

And... that's our summer in a nut shell :)  Seriously though, Cam is at a really fun age.  He's becoming more and more fun to play with / torment. And it's amazing to hear and see the new stuff he learns every day.
 
Until the "Fall in a nut-shell" blog,
Father

Embarrassing Moment #1

I've read in magazines and heard from friends about funny stories when their kids said something embarrassing in public.  This weekend, I experienced my first such moment with Cameron when we went to the mall.  We had to go to Sunglass Hut because Cameron, doing his best Incredible Hulk impersonation, bent the arms back on Mike's sunglasses, rendering them completely unwearable.  So while Mike was in the store getting his glasses adjusted, Cameron and I wandered the mall.  And when I say wandered, I really mean that we took 20+ round trips on the escalator (not an exaggeration).  Riding up and down the escalator really gave us the opportunity to do a lot of people watching.  On two separate occasions, we saw a group of young black teenagers.  In both instances, some of the kids were wearing wifebeaters and basketball shorts.  Cameron saw them, pointed, and said, "Basketball."  I sort of cringed, briefly wondered how offensive the remark was, and then told him, "Yes, that boy is wearing basketball shorts."  But I was fervently hoping that the kids hadn't heard and weren't offended.  So embarrassing moment #1.

For some reason, this encounter reminds me of the Curb Your Enthusiasm episode where Jeff thinks his German shepherd is racist because he only barks at black people.  I certainly hope Cameron doesn't go around saying, "Basketball" to every single black person he sees!

If you have any embarrassing stories about something your kid has said in public, please share in the Comments section for all to enjoy. :)

A Not So Subtle Threat

When I climbed into bed the other night, I received a most unwelcome surprise: there, lying innocently underneath the covers and right below my pillow, was a cheese spreader. I retraced the day's events and instantly recalled Cameron pulling out the utensil drawer, reaching on his tip toes, stretching out his grimy little hand, and triumphantly pulling out the cheese spreader. In my mind's eye, I fast forward half an hour, and I see Cameron gleefully wielding the cheese spreader and thrusting it in my direction, all the while chanting, "My knife! My knife!" It's almost like he wanted me to see it so I would know who left it for me later. And with that, I realize that my precious first-born son has just made an open threat on my life. His message is clear, "Should I choose to, I could end you with this blunt edge object."

So now I'm left to answer the question, "Why?" What have I done that warranted such drastic actions on his part? Was it the fact that I was completely engrossed in re-reading The Hunger Games in preparation for the movie and basically ignored him while he watched Curious George? Was he still angry that I wouldn't let him bring his beloved blankie into the bath? Or maybe it was because I mistakenly put him down on his changing table in the direction he doesn't prefer, so he had to frantically insist "Wrong way! Wrong way! Wrong way!" until I noticed the error of my ways. Whatever it was, I now realize I've underestimated my son.

Consider myself warned.