Whack-A-Mole

When we first moved into our current location we saw that there was no small amount of work to be done. One of the many projects is the yard. Eventually we expect to use this space for gardens, fruit trees, flowers, a shaded patio for outdoor dining, and a time machine. For the time being, we'd be happy if it just looked nice.

I would like to prioritize the time machine so that I can fast forward to after all that work is done. It has been pointed out to me that not only is time travel not likely, but that if we are in the time machine then no one will do the work needed and none of those other things will ever get done.  Killjoys. 

Having a well maintained yard requires a lot of hard work, determination, not a small amount of money, a little bit of vanity, and most of all, the cooperation of mother nature.  So far we are 4 for 5. Our first attempt was last year, after doing research we learned that the best way to rehabilitate our front law was to kill it (it was more weeds than lawn),  rototiller it, replant it, water it, then watch the grass grow.

We killed it, we rototillered it (thank you Peter for the use of your tool), then we waiting for the weather to dip below 90 degrees for optimum planting temp. Then we waited, and we waited, and we waited, until school started again and work schedules made it impossible to take the time to replant. 

The result of this experiment was that we had a lovely lush lawn of dirt, dirt, and yet still more dirt.

Fast Forward to the beginning of this summer. Now we were armed with experience! We added new dirt (because we clearly needed more), and seeded, and watered, and lo and behold our efforts began produce fruit. By fruit I mean grass. Not enough grass yet. Basically our lawn now looks like a comb-over. Not just a comb-over but a comb-over on a weird and lumpy skull. That is thanks to our new nemesis. The Moles.

Hi

Sure they seem cute when they are helping Secret Squirrel but just you wait until you are trying to enjoy a nice leisurely stroll across your yard and find yourself sinking deep down into depths of the nether world! Well, that may be an exaggeration.  I'm not trying to make a mountain out of... well, you know, but they seriously uglify our yard and we've worked too hard to suffer their burrowing ways.  We have sought multiple solutions to remedy this scourge.

Solution 1: Poison! Put a few cap fulls of this nastiness underground and enjoy a unmolested yard! 

Result: No discernible difference.  Also, did you notice the pun with unMOLEested. It's ok if you didn't. I missed it at first too. If you caught it then well done.  

Solution 2: Put a garden hose down a hole and drown'em!

Result: A wet yard and new mole hills.

Solution 3: Attach a garden hose to the exhaust of your car and put it down a hole and smoke'n out!

Result: Minus $20ish on the device to connect the exhaust to the hose, no known moles have perished.

Apparently creatures that live a subterranean life style are used to low oxygen environments.

Solution 4: Smoke sticks, lite'm on fire, bury them, and poison em!

Result: A yard that smells like farts for a while. No known dead moles.

Solution 5: Traps, three different kinds. One that pinches, one that grabs and one that stabs!
Full disclosure, the lack of success may be due to my incompetence at setting them rather than the trap's inability to catch the moles. One of them did trigger, but if the only way to know if the trap did it's job is to dig a giant hole in the yard.

Result: Inconclusive

Solution 6: Random Chance and a shovel: No shit, this has been our most successful tactic.

Result 2 for 2.

Success story 1: I was listening to Visigoth with the children while doing dishes (if you enjoy metal I recommend them) when the other half of this blog entered the home quickly and frantically exclaiming that there was "something" on the porch.

I hustled out the front door to find the small demon scurrying back and forth attempting to escape my vengeance. At this point the children also attempted to join me in the front yard to see what all the hubbub was. I had picked up a piece of 2X4 to complete the task and was still holding it when I ordered our offspring back into the home. 

To the common passerby with mandatory reporter status, this would seem like a concerning situation as it appeared that I was threatening the kids with lumber.  

***Trigger Warning***

(I'm about to kill a mole)

With the children secure inside I ditched the short piece of wood and found a shovel. Prior to bringing it down upon my nemesis I shouted the words "Whack-A-Mole Mother fucker!!!

OK I didn't really but I prefer to remember it that way. It makes me feel like a bad ass for killing something that I outweigh by a double an order of magnitude. 

After the initial impact I made another effort just to be sure.  Then I flung the remains into the field near the house.

There were several calls by friends and family to stake the remains a la Vlad the Impaler. We believe that this solution is counter to our ultimate goal of a beautiful yard.

Success story 2. 

***Second Trigger Warning***

(another mole is about to die)

You would think that after one mole went topside and disappeared the rest of them would be the wiser for it. Such was not the case.

I did not experience this second shovel full of death first hand. I did get to hear it though. The other half of Levity and Perspective called while I was at my desk.  Maybe this second mole was on some kind of search and some rescue mission when my wife found it on our porch. If that is the case, the mission failed.

At first, the plan was to capture the beast and await my arrival at home to do the dirty work. This plan was flawed however as the creature known most for burrowing started to burrow. Shocking, we know.

Few things survived the ensuing violence, including the mole and the other half of this blog's bladder control. Once again, the weapon of choice was a shovel.

After the dirty work was done the witnesses, our children and niece were heard to say, "That's one dead mole." 

The carcass of the devil rodent remained in place until I arrived home and sent it into the field via shovelpult to meet it's cousin.

We understand that for many of you, pulling a 'Little Bunny Foo Foo" is not big deal and bopping things on the head may just be a regular ass Wednesday for you. For us this was a bit of culture shock. Delivering a rodent to its maker via digging tech is not something us city folk had acquired a taste for and we've yet to find a suitable palate cleanser.

At this time we continue the battle. There may be some readers that will recommend a more humane method of varmint disposal. To those individuals I invite you to our home and you are welcome to try.

If you'll excuse me, I have an exterminator to call.

Cheers,

L&P


***Edit***
It has been pointed out to me that moles are not rodents, they are insectivors.
Although to be fair, I also called them devil's and I have no evidence that they ever had or lost celestial status.
So there is that if you.

L&P

Enter the Doggone

About a month ago we were presented with an offer that we felt that we could not refuse.
One of the Levity and Perspective mom's were informed of a Goldendoodle that was in need of a new home. Her name was Ruthie and she belonged to a loving family. Unfortunately due to circumstances beyond the families control they couldn't spend enough time with the dog and felt that she would be happier in a home where she would receive more attention. They were seeking a nice family that would be willing to take Ruth in and provide a loving and supportive environment.

Since a nice family could not be located, we volunteered our services.

Her name has remained mostly the same since we took her in though Merritt added a second name. So I now present Ruthie Anna.

Hi

The nick names that she has received thus far are Ruth Bader Dogsberg, Baby Ruth, Doggo, Ruthersford B Hayes, and Ruby. She is also called each of the childrens' names when we are particularly flustered.

Now, being that my wife and I are both in our 40s, have multiple college degrees and professional licenses between us, have a child entering her Junior year of college, and have had less than 4 severe head injuries occur in our household over the past couple of years, one might assume that we are competent enough to make this decision on our own. One might think that others would grant us the basic respect that we had thought through whether or not we should add another happy face (dog or otherwise) to our home. One might imagine we had weighed the pros and cons and carefully plotted out our family budget and arrived at outcome that this would be a positive for our family.

Strangely this was not the case.

Now we may be a bit sensitive on the topic because many of our decisions such as, having a kid with special needs, having a third kid, having twins, adopting cats (by the way we have two cats too),  and our LA Guns cover band, have been met with similar skepticism and dour attitudes.

It should be noted that the only of the aforementioned choices that we have come to regret is the one that I just made up.

Some folks still ask with a sour tone, "Why? Would you want a dog too? Have you thought this through?"

Well I'll tell you why:

1. We wanted to
2. Entertaining two five year olds and a seven year old is tough work and we needed the help
3. Picking up cheerios is cumbersome 
4. She makes us happy
5. We like fun
6. None of your damn business
7. She encourages us to exercise more
8. She is awesome
9. She makes us smile
10. Still none of your damn business

We realize that our life might strike others as overwhelming, and it is. But we are the ones living it. We are competent adults capable of  making decisions on our own. To assume otherwise is insulting and speaks more to your inability than ours.

Would you tell Michael Jordan how to dribble a basketball? No you wouldn't, because he's Michael Fucking Jordan.  Am I saying that we are the Michael Jordan of big families? Yes I am. Minus the gambling and with more crying. 

Why did we buy a white couch?

If you think I'm wrong then why don't you raise five kids and show me how to do it better.

What's that? You don't know how to? You wouldn't want to?

In that case might I recommend that you provide us with the same advise that I provide test pilots as they approach mach 2? Which is none. My advice to them would be unsolicited, unappreciated, and most of all uneducated.  I know exactly nothing about being in those circumstances so I keep my lip buttoned.

That is not to say that no one should voice an opinion on the matter. I'm speaking of course of the stake holders; those that are directly effected by the decision. As far as I can tell there are three stake holders in this situation; ourselves, Ruthie Anna, and the mom that will occasionally be asked to dog sit. I will now list the stake holders opinions on the adoption below.

Us: For it
Mom: For it
Ruthie Anna: Woof

That's three to zero, the Aye's have it.


Cheers,

L&P

Birthday Blues

I can remember how much I looked forward to my birthday and Christmas as a youngster. Without being weighed down by any knowledge of economics and the burden of Santa’s actual address, the sky was the limit when it came to not only what I could ask for, but also what I expected.

For several years running, I asked for a lightsaber. Not a toy one. A real one. One that could cut through things. A green one. A REAL GREEN LIGHTSABER.

This one

When I was a kid, the rule about opening presents was “no sour grapes”. In other words. Be thankful for the gifts you receive and no bad attitudes.

I think I did a pretty good job of following this rule but that didn’t mean that I didn’t suffer in silence when I realized that all of the gifts had been opened and I remained without my Jedi weapon of choice.

In hindsight, I do not blame my parents for this. After all, lightsabers would be a very irresponsible gift for a child and they do not exist.

Enter our son Oliver. 

Hi

In the unlikely event that you are unfamiliar with our fun family dynamic, I’ll quickly inform you that Oliver is our youngest of five children. He is also a twin. His birthday is December 23rd. Which, as my wife is fond of saying, means that he has to share a birthday with his brother and Jesus.

Meeting birthday expectations is already a steep climb for parents, steeper when said expectations are not grounded in physics or a realistic budget.

I have included an incomplete list of some of Oliver’s demands.

• That sword
• That power ranger’s Zord
• That thing on your back that you put two swords and then go like this (ninja like sword drawing maneuvers)
• That motorcycle
• That motorcycle too
• A dog with pointy ears
• A robot dog with pointy ears
• That thing that you put on a horse and you ride behind it and do this (indecipherable hand gestures)
•  A REAL power ranger suite
• All of the power ranger Zords
• A remote control Spiderman motorcycle
• That black remote control car that we saw at the store that one time
• A horse thing that you sit on (saddle?)
• That game
• A horse
• That game too
• A real robot that does that thing
• All of the video games
• A lightsaber

Since we live in the future most of the television consumed by our children is via streaming services, thus commercial free. On the rare occasion that Oliver (or any of our kids) does watch television with commercials the request list spikes considerably.

I don’t want to give the impression that our youngest is the only one making these requests.  He’s not.  However, he is the most vocal and repetitive of our quintet. On a slow day, Oliver has a cruising speed of approximately 55 RPH (requests per hour).

We typically acknowledge these requests with a canned, “We’ll see” or “Maybe”, or “Can you draw a picture of it that we can send to Santa?”, or “Maybe if you change the oil in the Subaru we can come to some kind of arrangement.”

We know that this is typical kid behavior. As mind numbing as it can be to hear the same request for the 100th time in a three-hour period we manage the frustration for the constant demands for our attention. He is not always going to ask us for things. There will be a day when he can buy all of his own things and we will be out of the loop. The tricky duality of parenthood is both looking forward to and dreading that day.

Maybe someday science will catch up with my kid’s demands and he can get that lightsaber. By then he will be old enough to responsibly wield it. Until that day, I have some shopping to do. By December 23rd these should be just about ready.

Cheers,

L&P

10 Minutes (Adventures in Maggie Rearing Vol. 4)

For those of you not in the know about parenting a kid with special needs, we have to keep our head on a swivel. All day every day. From the time we wake up to... well also while we are asleep, when we sleep. We don' really sleep.  True this can be said of the parenting experience on the whole but I find that the times I let my guard down for Maggie related issues the consequences are especially trying.  Take for instance the morning routine.

6:15 Wake up and begin coffee, breakfast, and making lunches.

6:30 Starting waking the 6 year old up.

6:45 Deliver 6 year old her breakfast and first outfit choice.

6:47 Remind 6 year old her breakfast is getting cold and present second outfit choice.

6:49 Dry 6 year old's tears because she hates the first two outfits, remind her that breakfast is getting cold, attempt to find (weather inappropriate) outfit request.

6:55 Reheat breakfast because it's TOO COLD and explain that the requested clothes are dirty but we can wash them for tomorrow. Help 6 year old into outfit choice 1.

7:00 Deliver Maggie's breakfast, turn on Abba Pandora.

7:02 Remind the twins that it's not TV time yet. Attempt 1 at getting boys to eat.

7:09 Remove all art supplies from the 6 year old, remind her that breakfast is going to get cold again and begin the shoe struggle.

7:11 Remind the twins that it's not TV time yet, feeding attempt 2.

7:15 Begin tooth brushing odyssey.

7:20 Take the 6 year old to school

7:30 Remind the twins it's still not time for TV, feeding attempt 3, and get boys dressed... where did you get a sword?

7:35 Help Maggie get dressed.

7:38 Stop the bleeding, seriously, where did you get a sword?

7:45  Put out the fire (for legal reasons please assume that this is a metaphor)

7:50 Begin watching for the bus.

Now we enter the danger zone and where we get the title for this particular blog entry. Part of the deal with having a kiddo with special needs is that the bus picks her up at the house rather than having to strut her out to a bus stop. For the last several weeks the bus has shown up pretty much right at 8:00 am. It's not uncommon that we miss the bus for reasons that are out of our control. The following is not a complete list but should give you an idea of some of the things that can take longer than tem minutes to remedy and may result in Maggie missing the bus.

• Foodmergency (cold)
• Twin Brawl
• Cat-aclysm
• Foodmergency (hot)
• Pokemeltdown
• Pootasrophy
• Apparel mishap
• T.V.engence
• Egg Failure
• Wafflop
• Shoebacle (hot)
• Total System Failure
• Under caffeination
• Udder caffeination
• Laundry adversity
• Act of God (Abrahamic) 
• Slips
• Spills
• Band Aid Snobbery
• Act of Gods (Hindu)
• Blatant disregard for authority
• Missing socks
• Blight
• Disco Fever 

  The bus driver, a lovely woman, and I have developed a system wherein I give her a thumbs up or thumbs down regarding whether or not we will be utilizing her services that morn . If I'm not at the window then it is likely that someone overslept, someone has a fever, or we are scraping cat innards off of something.

To be clear, I'm not blaming the bus driver for the days that Maggie misses the bus. Nor do I have a better solution for getting her to school on time. Well, not one grounded in reality at least. But just for fun lets say; drone delivery, self driving car, griffin, and magic banana.

The only reason that this is an Adventure in Maggie Rearing is because I arbitrarily selected Maggie's bus pick up time as a snapshot of our home. It could have just as easily been an adventure in punctuality; but I love that picture of Maggie too much to not use it. 

I hope you enjoyed this peak into our home.

Cheers,

L&P

Adventures in Maggie Rearing Vol. 3

Well we haven't had one of these in a while and clearly our sweet Maggie was worried that you'd all forgotten about what an adventure she can be.

One of the most challenging/terrifying/interesting/terrifying things about raising a child that has special needs that is largely nonverbal is that she can't tell you where she's been, what she's thinking, if she's in pain, or if she wants a sandwich.  This isn't to say that we have issues understanding Maggie. For instance, she pretty much always wants a sandwich.

A couple of weeks back we were lucky enough to find ourselves at the coast with family. We were having a great time. By that I mean William had been vomiting enough that we decided it would be a good idea to take him to the Emergency Room.
After all, what family vacation is complete without at least one trip to the hospital.

Long story short, Will is fine.

Back to Maggie.

We were shy one adult, and worried about sweet William when I left Maggie on the porch. Leaving my daughter with food in hand, tablet playing a movie in the other, and water bottle in lap, I let my guard down for the same amount of time that it takes to make one ham sandwich.

I don't mean any kind of fancy panini affair either. Just strait up ham and provolone; no bells or whistles for this gent thank you very much.  Ok maybe some avocado, but come on! It's got the good fat!

Anyways shortly after slathering on some mustard I noticed that Maggie's familiar noises were absent from the porch. I wandered outside and found Maggie's shoes, tablet, sandwich, and water bottle, but the porch was decidedly sans Maggie.

I asked our host and the surrounding children if any of them knew where she was; with all answers in the negative panic began to set in. My first thought was that she may have seen a neighbor's hot tub and decided that it was a good time and place to take a bath.  After all, Maggie views conventional etiquette as optional.  My search resulted in no Maggie. Maggie's older sister and friend began a search of the area.  I was worried that Maggie had decided to take a walk to the beach by herself which could result in the rest of my life having significantly less Maggie than I prefer.

As I encountered strangers I asked them, "Have you seen a child with Down Syndrome? She's wearing tan shorts and she's... most likely the only child with Down Syndrome walking around alone." I was able to figure out that Maggie hadn't made it to the only beach access point that she knew about and before long I had a small group of strangers helping me search.

Thank you strangers.

My second concern was that we were very close to a highway. My anxiety was now growing that Maggie might be struck by a car, or inside a car with someone of ill intent.

I hopped in my car and began making my way towards the highway when I thankfully saw a shoeless Maggie being led by the hand by her sister's friend back towards the beach house. She had been sitting calmly in a small cafe patiently awaiting someone to come find her.

As to how she got to the cafe, we have a few theories.

1. Maggie may have wandered off of the porch and realized that the rocks hurt her bare feet and rather than risk the discomfort, just decided to stay on the smooth asphalt.
2. Maggie may have been wandered off of the porch for reasons we will never know, got somehow turned around, and simply lost her way. This might sound weird considering that she may have only gone thirty or so feet. But keep in mind that she was in an unfamiliar place and her eyesight isn't great.
3. Maggie had been watching the other teens take walks and thought to herself, "Hey, what am I doing hanging out with these little kids? I'm a teenager too! I'm taking myself a walk!"
4. This is the scariest one and may not have occured to me unless I lived in a town with a storied history of human trafficking, but Maggie may have been abducted. I've never kidnapped anyone before but I assume that a kid with special needs might be seen as an easy target.  It's possible, that her would-be abductor lured her off of the porch, realized that someone requiring as much care and attention as Maggie needs would fetch less than ideal market value, and booted her out of their van. I'm making an assumption that this would have been a van. But come on, we were all assuming van in this scenario right?
5. Finally, the stupid scenario. It's possilbe however unlikely that Maggie is a time travler. She may have warped to an alternate dimension in which she rescued a unicorn, fought off zombie hordes, and poured a perfect Manhatten for Fat Tony on the Simpsons.

Sadly and strangely, we will never know the answer. Her total absence from us was between 20 and 30 minutes.  It was a new kind of fear that I hope to never experience again. We are so happy to have her back safe and sound. Also, from now on I'm keeping one eye on her, and one on the provalone.

Cheers,

L&P

Quotable Quotes

Merritt is four years old now.

We decorated Unicorn horns.

She has been since May 3rd. It has been a challenge to get her to buy into this concept. Most conversations on the subject have proceeded as follows.

Me: Hey Merritt did you know that you are four years old now?

Merritt: No, I'm three.

Me: You turned four a couple of months ago.

Merritt: No dad, I'm only three, I'm not big enough to be four. See (stretches to her tip toes and reaches her hands as high as they can go), I'm not big enough. I'm only three.

Me: Merritt, are you afraid of being four?

Merritt: I don't want to be four.

Me: Why not?

Merritt: I want to be a little kid.

Me: You are still a little kid when you are four. Merritt you are always going to be my little kid. Even when you are five, even when you are six, even when you are sixty, you are always going to be my little kid. I love you so so much and I'm so proud of you and I'll never not be your daddy.

Merritt: ...

Me: So are you ready to be four now?

Merritt: I'm going to beep your nose now. (squeezes my nose) Beep.

And with that she turns on her heel and begins to play.
She isn't the only one that has come up with some memorable lines. This conversation happened between William and his mother several weeks ago late at night.

Beth: Are you ready to go to sleep yet big guy?

William: Yeth (he has a little bit of a lisp).

Beth: Do you want to go lay down in bed?

William: Yeth.

Beth: Wait, are you peeing on me?

William: Yeth!

Every morning that my work schedule allows me to be at home Oliver and I have the following conversation.

Oliver: Daddy, Where'd your glasses go?

Me: I think they are by the elephant (humidifier).

Oliver: Thinking thinking thinking (arms crossed with one finger tapping his chin. Then racing to retrieve my glasses and bringing them to me.) Where'd your phone go?

Me: Can you find it?

Oliver: It's a mystery! (Runs to where my phone is plugged in and brings it to me) I found it!

This exchange has some variety as occasionally Oliver suspects, "bandits" of taking daddy's phone.
I know that I need to appreciate these gems now because before I know it Merritt wanting to practice her "Inja Moves" (ninja moves), will turn into eye rolls. Oliver's bright eyed "Where'd it go?" when failing to hide large objects behind his back will turn into angry stomps into his room. And William's excited high pitched shrieks of joy will turn into passive aggressively ignoring our requests to clean a room, pick up socks, or empty a dishwasher.

I wanted to post these little memories here today because I know that when that transition happens I may need to reread this and remind myself of how adorable they once were.

Not that the older kids have been guilty of this. I'm just taking advantage of the tools at my disposal today.
I will close with one of William's knock knock jokes.

William: Knock Knock

Me: Who's there?

William: Madeleine.

Me: Madeleine who?

William: I"m not Madeleine!

Hilarious.

Cheers,
L&P

Tips and Tricks

So as you, the frequent reader knows, we have five children, a 17 year old, a 15 year old that has Down syndrome with a smattering of autism, a four year old who identifies as a three year old, and twin two year olds. One of the most frequent questions that we get is, "How do you manage?"

Well being that we do this blog not only to share our story but also to help out fellow parents, I thought it would be sporting to answer this question with our organization tips that we use to help keep our sanity.

So here it goes.

1. Put all of the kids' diapers on at once: Changing a diaper takes about 3 minutes. Since the boys have twin power, they have synchronized their bowel movements, every time there is a diaper change, there are two diaper changes. That means roughly 6 minutes for every poo. The way that we shave time off of this chore is to put 7 or 8 diapers on the kid first thing in the morning. Sure the clothes are a bit snug but the time you save just stripping off only the outer most diaper is invaluable.
2. Always wear a hockey mask. Kids can be messy; we have a hard enough time trying to keep them clean. A hockey mask not only keeps the kids messes off of me, but it is surprisingly comfortable. Also kids LOVE masks!
3. Cry Driving: When you have three toddlers begging for your attention at all times, the tension mounts. Being overwhelmed isn't an occasional occurrence; it's a way of life! I've found that the best way to release some of that pressure is when behind the wheel. Not only does this assist in getting out of tickets (no officer with a heart can ticket a sobbing 37 year old man) but it models good driving habits for our 17 year old. Namely, being able to multitask when driving.
4. If you have a child with special needs then you know the frustration of trying to get the school district to follow through with your kids IEP (Individual Education Plan). Save time and frustration by assuming everyone involved in your child's education is stupid. During the IEP meeting speak slowly and clearly. Bring shiny objects to keep thier attention and a punching bag to release the rage in a safe place. (Side note, this does not apply to Maggie's grade school teacher, that woman is a mother f'n saint!)
5. Remember not to neglect the emotional needs of your spouse. Make eye contact at least three times a day.
6. Showering can take up to 20 minutes and is only considered a necessary daily activity in some westernized countries. Aquaman never showers and he is the King of Atlantis. If not showering daily is good enough for royalty, then maybe it's good enough for you too. Think about it.
7. Sleep is a necessary evil, but the bible says that we should work against evil. Utilize the knowledge that god gave you and fight that drowsy eyed demon with the chemistry of amphetamines.
8. Maintaining the safety and security of your home is your responsibility as the adult in the home. Purchase a hand gun and fire it into the air outside your home at random times throughout the day and night. Soon your reputation will grow and no one will dare come within spitting distance of your abode.
9. A pet is a great way to teach your child responsibility. But if your child neglects the dog or cat then guess who’s on the hook for animal neglect? Not your toddler that's for sure! Cut out the middle man and just leave an animal carcass someplace in your house.
10. Take time for yourself. Of course, no one in your house will let you do this, because they are all selfish a-holes that have no respect for your time, personal space, or all the hard work you put into maintaining the home. So just cross your fingers and hope that you don't lose your damn mind before they are all in school and it buys you three f'n seconds of peace and quiet.

Cheers

L&P

p.s. this is satire, we love our kids, please don't report us.