Forbidden Fruit

I know it’s been quite some time since I have updated you guys on what’s going on. We had a little thing called football season get in the way of any writing that could have been done. And in case you guys don’t know, high school football is kind of a big deal in the state of Texas. At least to some people…


So let’s recap. We went 6-3 and got beat in the 2nd round of the playoffs by the #3 ranked team in 4A in the state of Texas. My beloved Hogs had a decent year and went to a bowl. At which, someone in Arkansas with deep pockets paid the kicker from ECU a LOT of money to miss 2 field goals inside of a minute in regulation and one in OT. He had to have been bought b/c even the kicker from the Cowboys could have made one of three. I heard they made him ride back to NC in the luggage compartment. Well they were going to but he missed the plane.

The holidays were good. We had a nice break and it was pretty relaxing. We stayed around here and knocked all three Christmases out in 1 day. It made Christmas day pretty hectic but we got it over with and were able to relax and enjoy the rest of our time off.

School is going fine. I don’t have any outlandish stories about our brilliant leaders of tomorrow to tell right now…well there was this one day we were on the track with our first period class. You see, our district has made a push to increase the intensity of our physical education department. So when the weather is nice, we go outside and do some cardio work on the track. Well this particular day, we had the students walk around the curves and run the straight ways on the track. The kids were doing a good enough job. Most of them have never run 10 yards much less 100! But this one particular girl, Taylor, had stopped running all together and was walking around the entire track. When she got around to the finish line where 2 other coaches and I were standing, I told her she needed to pick it up and run like the rest of the class. She looked at me, grabbed her boobs, and yelled, “MAN, MY TITTIES ARE HURTIN!!” One of our veteran coaches looked at her and calmly told her to hold ‘em when she runs, one of our younger coaches turned red and dropped his jaw b/c he couldn’t believe she just said that. I dropped to my knee because I could not stand up straight from laughing so hard. She walked the rest of the way.

So with continued exposure to high level excellence everyday, I felt it necessary for Corey and I to start a nightly bible story with our kids in hopes of raising them to fear God, love others and to know you don’t yell at a coach and inform him that certain parts of your body are HURTIN…MAN! We are going through a book called “Step into the Bible” by Ruth Graham. One of the stories is about the fruits of the Spirit. For those who don’t know, or need some reminding, they are: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control. At the end of each story, there are a handful of questions to follow up the story. Drew (6 yr old) is usually the first one to answer them and he usually blurts out the answers but is usually always right. I guess that’s the male coming out in him; you know, wanting everyone to know that he knows the answers! The first question on this particular story is, oddly enough, “What are the fruits of the Spirit?” Well Drew threw his hand up and starts saying, “Ew-Ew-Ew I know, I know.” (As is his nightly custom when any question is asked) Baylie usually just sits there and lets him answer or waits on me to call on her. Casey NEVER wants to answer and if I ask her to she looks at me and says, “Uhhhh Jesus”. That is her standard answer. To every question. Every night. And when I tell her that’s not right, she responds with, “Uhhhh God”. So this particular night, I called on Casey and she said, “Uhhhh Jesus”. I just moved on to Baylie. Baylie knew most of them, but when she got stuck, Drew raised his hand and said, “Ew-Ew-Ew I know, I know”. So I said, “Ok, Drew what are the other fruits of the Spirit.” He put his finger on his chin and as serious as he could be he said, “Well there’s Pineapple....” We couldn’t finish we were laughing so hard. I just put the book down and moved on. Well, we told our babysitter that story (she was with them when they were in daycare). Come to find out, they had the fruits of the Spirit written on cutouts of fruits and hung on the wall at the daycare. One of them was on the shape of…you guessed it, a pineapple. So those pictures of fruit were engrained in his head that they were the fruits of the Spirit. What a relief to know he’s not completely retarded!

Life Lessons

Some of you may or may not know, but Corey and I have been working with the children’s ministry at our church, Heritage Baptist in Texarkana (if you are looking for a church home, come check us out. (plug)). Well one Sunday not too long ago, the main point of the lesson was that God knows what you are doing even if nobody else does. Well I’m pretty sure it was pertaining to the decisions we make in relation to God’s plan for our lives. Specifically sin. The lesson was geared towards making the kids understand that, basically, who you really are is defined by the choices you make when nobody is around or what you do if you knew no one would ever find out. Well the lesson took on a whole new meaning for me as we were driving home from church that morning. As we pulled up to the last stop light before our neighborhood, I glanced over to the car next to us and saw a young lady knuckle deep in the mucus canal. Now, before I go any further, I do not want to sound like a hypocrite. I am man enough to admit that I have been guilty of cleansing my nasal cavity a time or two while stopped at a red light. But a simple booger removal is not the heinous act that had me so disturbed. She was so vigorously digging for gold, it was like a car wreck and I could not look away. The next moment was the defining moment of the scene and it seemed to have happened almost in slow motion. I was in such disbelief that I sat there as the light turned green and pondered whether or not I truly witnessed a grown woman not only hold the crater out in front of her face as if to admire some kind of trophy, but paused, apparently savoring the moment, and inserted her catch of the day right in her mouth. (You knew it was coming!) She then drove off with a smirk on her face as if to say, “Now that’s a good booger.” I know it’s disgusting, but I hope we can all learn something from this. And that is: sometimes there is no one around and God is the only one who will see and know what you are doing. But SOMETIMES even if no one seems to be around, someone may be watching. So don’t eat your boogers in public. Or at all for that matter. And the worse part about it is…I KNOW THE GIRL. I went to high school with her. I will never reveal her identity but I also will never be able to look at her the same. Anytime someone brings her name up, her name will forever have a negative connotation. And I CERTAINLY will not be shaking hands with her when I see her again! I didn’t know anyone over 5 still did that.

The ride home from church tends to bring about some interesting conversation. Just this last Sunday, Drew and Casey rode home with Corey. Apparently they talked about what they were thankful for during Sunday School. Corey got the typical answers: family, friends, toys, bicycle, etc. Drew did most of the talking and Casey just sat there and listened to Drew. When Corey pulled up at the house, Drew asked if he could stay outside and ride his bike while Corey got lunch ready. Corey said yes and asked Casey if she was going to play outside. She said very matter-of-factly, “No, I’m gonna stay outside and tell Drew what he is thankful for.” She obviously didn’t like his answers. Thank goodness she’s around to keep him in shape!

Glory Days

The NBA playoffs is the only time I’ll really sit down to watch NBA basketball anymore. Back in the day of Jordan and Bird and Magic, I could watch any game on any night. Not anymore. I hate the regular season and I don’t necessarily love the playoffs, but if I’m gonna watch it, that’s it. But while watching the playoffs I almost always become nostalgic and get an itch to play some pick-up games in hopes of reliving some of my past glories from the good ol’ days in high school. (It depends on who you ask as to whether or not they really were glory days, but the farther I get from those days, the better I remember myself.) However, even though I’m only 32, I feel 52 the day after I play. Even though I know the exercise and the camaraderie of the game are good for me both physically and emotionally (just ask Dr. Phil), it’s still hard to make myself do it. Well a few years ago, while still in Nacogdoches, the playoffs were on and I was coerced into playing a pickup game. I gave in one Saturday afternoon and was off to the gym. I already felt guilty enough going on a Saturday and Baylie added salt to my wound. As I was walking out the door, she gave me those pouty eyes and asked why I had to go on a Saturday. She already has me wrapped around her little finger; and that look she gave me made me feel like she was squeezing the life out of me like a python wrapped around a lab rat. But I’m a man. So I did what most red-blooded, tough-skinned, manly-man guys would do…I scooped her up, was gonna put her in the car and take her with me. Drew was only 2 at the time and on our way out, he was standing in the kitchen. At this point, I was ready to abort the mission and just stay home. He looked up at me, pointed and said, “Ga Digga Digga. Ga Nugga Nigh.” Whew, he was cool with it. He understood. That’s my boy. So off Baylie and I go. On the way there Baylie was playing every 1st grade child’s favorite game—20 questions. And every question started with the word, “Dad”. As if there were anyone else that she could possibly be talking to. “Dad, why are you going to play basketball?” “Dad, do you like to play basketball?” “Dad, did you play basketball when you were a little boy?” “Dad, can I play basketball when I get bigger?” “Dad, did mommy play basketball when she was a little girl?” “Dad, how old is mommy?” “Dad, when I get big, I’m gonna have lots of kids just like you and mommy (Casey was almost 1).” Whoa!! Let’s listen to some music, what do you say? So we get to the gym with no more talk of my innocent little angel bearing a multitude of children. She was pretty good during the hoop-fest. She stayed pretty patient and was running around entertaining herself while we were playing. In general, she was not paying a whole lot of attention to us. Every now and then, she would see me make a shot she would yell at me, “Good shot, Dad.” (I knew I brought her for a reason.)Later that night, I thought it would be a good follow up to the day for Baylie and me to sit down and watch a little B-ball together. You know, some high quality father-daughter bonding time. Well I turn the game on, (the Lakers were playing somebody), and I walk to the kitchen to get us a snack. I barely get back to the fridge when I hear Baylie yelling at me. “Daaaaaad! Daaaaaad! Cooooome Heeeeeere Pleeeeeease!” So I go back to the living room anticipating a profound discovery. She looks at me, points to the TV and says, “Now, that’s how you play basketball!”

What does she know? She’s only five. Not to worry, in a few years, I’ll look back on that pick-up game and remember myself as the reincarnate of Pistol Pete Maravich. Ugly days today, glory days tomorrow.

Storms Brewing

This is an actual storm warning issued by our local weather service.

You should be on the look out for storms brewing in the Spring Lake Park area of Texarkana. One of these storms that has a tendency to develop is Tropical Depression Baylie. This storm moves slowly through the region with whining and complaining winds. You must be on the look out for a system of illnesses causing the storm to gain strength as the Depression begins to near the moment of departure. Typical characteristics of this Depression and its magnitude include, but are not limited to, intestinal irregularities, problematic symptoms located in the cranial region of the storm and uncomfortable sensations in the earnoseandthroat area of the system. Most, if not all, of these characteristics can be manifested solely through the imagination process of the storm. None the less, beware of the possibility that the storm may gain strength as it displays convincing techniques to remain stalled over the initial location from which the storm began brewing. Once Tropical Depression Baylie begins to subside, maintain a firm stance and whatever you do, do not give in to the Depression. Any wavering or weakness spotted by the storm could create an atmosphere conducive to the storm regaining strength and creating an environment of infuriation with extremely negative reactions. Warning, do not look the storm in the eye. As doing so will cause an unsuspecting bystander to succumb to the power of persuasion associated with Tropical Depression Baylie and allow the storm to remain stalled over its location of origination. This storm has shown high tendencies of developing in the early morning hours and almost always on Mondays.

If Tropical Depression Baylie does not seem to be prevalent on a certain morning, you must be on the look out for small thunderstorms developing in the west that could form into Tropical Storm Drew. This storm is characterized by typically mild thunderstorms with a tendency to subside almost immediately upon formation. It is normally not a high pressure system and generally only a few factors cause this Storm to develop into mild to moderate showers. Of these factors, the most common cause for storm maturity is a dissatisfaction with the selection of the footwear that Mother Nature has selected to cover the southern-most region of the storm. There is no pattern as to why or when the Storm will develop. And though Tropical Storm Drew rarely strengthens and will generally dwindle on its own, there are certain instances when Father Time must intercede and unleash a wave of opposing storm systems to counteract the effectiveness of the Storm. These stern and forceful systems will cause the Storm to produce sudden shrieking winds followed by a short period of intense thunderstorms with a possibility of flooding. However, this reaction is classically short-lived and the showers soon dissipate, clearing the way for blue skies and sunshine for the remainder of the day. The Storm by and large only has a 10% chance of occurring; and due to the moderate nature of the storm, there is no need for anxiousness or concern when approaching the core of the system. Proceed as normal.

Though both of these storms can manifest themselves on any given day, they are typically brief in length and mild in strength. However, there is a high probability that Hurricane Casey will move through the region on any day and at any hour. This system is a very volatile and potent storm that will move through a centrally located area with no regard for any life form that may cross its path. Hurricane Casey may start out as an accumulation of high winds and storm clouds with scattered lightening bolts but can, and will, increase in pressure and intensity with little or no warning. It is not unusual for the system to grow from producing mild wind and rain to a category 5 hurricane within a matter of mere seconds; destroying everything in its path. It takes little to no opposition for this wave of destruction to reach full potency. At full strength, there is a large radius of maximum winds that will produce large-sized Hell. The Hurricane has the characteristic of exceptionally strong force. Once this storm reaches landfall, the Hurricane will intensify and the warning will remain in effect until the storm decides to subside on its own. Any effort to combat the storm will only cause a chain reaction of events that will result in complete and utter devastation. There have been recorded instances when these efforts to combat the storm have resulted in Hurricane Casey progressing into a full blown typhoon. Though researchers have spent numerous hours studying the causes and origins of the storm, they have yet to come to a reasonable conclusion. The most logical hypothesis is that the heart of the storm is spoiled and rotten. The researchers attribute this to their findings that Tropical Depression Baylie and Tropical Storm Drew break up and give way to Hurricane Casey thus allowing her to overtake their movements and unleash her destruction in any given area.

Neither Tropical Depression Baylie nor Tropical Storm Drew tends to form outside the morning hours. Be that as it may, Hurricane Casey has a history of festering throughout the day and threatens to regain strength at the drop of a hat and can reestablish itself at a moments notice and turn into a catastrophic storm.

If you are traveling through the Spring Lake Park area between the hours of 6:30 and 7:30 am, Central Standard Time, it is advised that you take an alternate route and avoid Canadian Street at all costs. If you must travel in the vicinity of these storms, proceed with extreme caution. And if you happen to come into direct contact with Hurricane Casey when the storm is at full force, may God have mercy on your soul.

This warning has been issued by the Emergency Broadcast System, the National Weather Service, the Federal Emergency Management Agency, the National Center for Bad Kids, the Parents of Bad Kids Support Group, the FBI, the CIA and Matt and Corey Graves. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

Mutts and Morons...and One Fast Kid

It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything. We have been busy and when we haven’t been busy, I haven’t felt like writing anything. It seems like we are blowing and going non stop all week. I get up at 5:30 and we put the kids down by 8:30. Throw in church, T-ball, bible study, more T-ball, track meets, T-ball tournaments, homework and Awanas and we get to Saturday, look up, and wonder where in the crap the week went. I know a lot of you feel my pain, so don’t give me too much grief for not having posted in a while.

THREE RING CIRCUS x 2 = GRAVES' HOUSE
With three kids, I can only imagine it will get worse. As they all grow up and become more involved in different activities, we will just become increasingly busier. And as if 3 kids weren’t enough, we…check that…Corey felt we didn’t have enough to do. She talked me into getting some dogs. I guess I should back up a little. We had a boxer, Oskie. (It’s a football term, if you don’t know, don’t ask. It won’t make sense to you anyway.) He was over a year old and was a really good dog. He was a beautiful dog and was great with the kids. But as I just told you, we are pretty busy and we never really spent the time with him that he needed. As a gesture of thanks for nothing, he completely remodeled our backyard. Not so much remodeled as demolished. He chewed up our porch swing along with the kid’s swings. He dug holes in the yard and along the fence. He deposited land mines all over the yard; and made it miserable for the kids to go outside and play. So in turn, we spent less time with him, and he would tear the yard up even more. It was a vicious cycle. Well we finally bit the bullet and found another home for him. (We got connected up with Pick a Pal on Myspace and they hooked us up with a great new home for him) So we were going to wait a while and get an inside dog so the kids would have a pet and would want to play with it. Well Oskie wasn’t out of the house 48 hours and Corey was already on the internet searching for another dog. And it didn’t take her long to find what she wanted. To say it was two hours would be stretching it. As soon as she saw the Wee-Chon, she was hooked. It is a mix between a West Highland Terrior and a Bichon Frise. They are a hybrid dog. Hybrid is an extravagant way to say mutt. So anyway, within moments of discovering these mutts, she located a breeder in Daingerfield, which is about an hour and a half from Texarkana. A few phone calls later, she conned me into agreeing to get 2 of the little half-breeds. I didn’t even get “Whatever” out of my mouth before she and Baylie were in the car heading west on I-30 to Doggytown. Almost exactly an hour and a half later I get a text. “She has 3, can we have all 3?” My response was an emphatic and absolute, “NO!!!!”. We were not getting 3 dogs. No way. Not a chance. It would be a cold day…I’m sure you can guess what happened. My wife can be very convincing. VERY convincing. So an hour and a half later, she pulls into the drive with 3 fur balls that have done nothing but poop and piss everywhere. But the kids love them and my wife is happy. And when she is happy, I am happy. The little turds are pretty cute, I have to admit.

SPEED RACER
Drew started T-ball this year and we have only played a few games. He seems to enjoy it but it’s T-ball, so how does he really know. He bats twice and hangs around second base squatting down and holding his glove over his face while the game is going on. But I think what he likes the most is running the bases. And even more than that, he likes the fact that his coach brags about how fast he is. Well that has gone straight to his head. We were on our way to church the other night we had this conversation:

Drew: Dad will you pull over.
Dad: For what.
Drew: So you can let me out.
Dad: For what.
Drew: So I can run to church.
Dad: Why would you want to run to church?
Drew: Because I can run faster than this car and I’ll beat you there.
Dad: Buddy, I know you can run fast, but I’m not putting you out on the side of the road right now. Maybe another time.

(After church we were going to eat for my sister’s birthday and my mom called wanting to know where we were b/c Texas Roadhouse was going to give our table away) Drew overheard the conversation and the following discussion took place:

Drew: Dad, pull over.
Dad: What?
Drew: Pull over, please. (like I was just waiting on him to say please)
Dad: For what?
Drew: I want you to drop me off.
Dad: Where?
Drew: On the side of the road.
Dad: For what?
Drew: So I can run to Texas Roadhouse so Mammy won’t be mad at me for being late.

He’s not that fast. He is confident though.

CSI MIAMI
Everyday is an adventure in our 1st period PE class. First period is set aside for girl’s athletics. So we get all of the girls who either cannot play or get kicked out of athletics, on top of the already unmotivated group of teenagers who would just assume shoot you as to do a single jumping jack. All together there are about 68 kids in that class. And with girl’s athletics going on, they are using all of the athletic facilities so there is nowhere for us to go. We have no locker room to change in nor do we have anywhere to take them. So we go to the cafeteria. It does give us a chance to talk to the kids and we get some interesting stories along the way. One particular morning, we could tell there was something going on with a few of the girls. There was some serious teenage drama going down. So we called one of them up to find out exactly what the problem was. This girl’s parents named her after the Osh Kosh clothing line. She isn’t very smart but obviously she gets some things honest and there are some things she can’t help. We’ll call her Osh for short. Osh informed us that her best friend was trying to go out with her boyfriend behind her back and she was ticked. She was crying and fussing and carrying on like someone stole her hair weave. I asked her how she knew what was going on b/c she hadn’t talked to either the boyfriend or the girl. We suggested she talk to them first before jumping to conclusions. She promptly told us she was not jumping to conclusions, she KNEW what was happening. We asked her how she could be so sure and this is what she told us. This is exactly what she said. Honestly. I have witnesses. She said, “I ain’t as retarded as everyone thank I is. My granny watch a lotta CSI Miami and I watch CSI Miami, I put the clues together. I know that girl messin with my boyfriend.” I don’t know what was said after that because I had to get up and walk off so she would see me doubling over in laughter.

I SAW RED
Does anyone else use Redbox? It is without question one of the greatest inventions ever. They are literally red boxes that are DVD vending machines. It’s a dollar a day. We have several around town, located at Albertson’s and Wal-Mart. We use the crap out of them. The only problem is that a lot of times, when you get to a Redbox, there is someone with a 3rd grade education trying to operate the machine. My last trip to return a movie almost resulted in my first felony assault charge. She looked innocent enough but I was real close to taking out that 50 year old lady with 6 DVDs and an inability to read elementary directions on the case as to how to return the DVDs. Seriously folks, it’s not rocket science. Make sure the bar code is facing a certain way, press the Return DVD button, insert it into slot, wait a moment and repeat steps for multiple returns. So if you have never used one, you are now overqualified to maneuver through a redbox. There were about 4 people in line in front of me, and saying she was having a hard time would be an understatement. She COULD NOT get the bar code to face the right way. And there are only 2 options! If you don’t do it right, when you slide the DVD in, it spits it back at you. Well she was trying to feed them in one after another and the machine was spitting them back at her. She was cussing the machine and pushing the touch screen harder and harder, as if that was going to make her IQ level raise 30 points to where she can understand the directions. Sort of like when someone you talk to a person who doesn't speak English very fluently, you talk louder in hopes they will understand you better. Well I think she jammed her finger on the touch screen because she resorted to huffing and puffing and looking around saying, “I don’t know what’s wrong with this stupid machine.” Yeah, it’s the machine’s fault. I bet it took her 15 minutes to return her movies. It would have been longer had the guy behind her not helped her get them returned. It’s a great concept but I am going to start carrying a gun to the Redbox. If you’re too stupid to work a Redbox, you deserve to at least get shot in the butt to discourage you from coming back. Just go to Blockbuster. They’ll walk you through the process. You don’t have to do anything that requires you to think. Yeah, it costs a little more, but you have to ask yourself, is a few dollars really worth getting shot over?

Hickonics

The great novelist Ernest Hemingway suggested you not mix emotions with a good glass of wine, it loses its taste. Well, if that’s the case, having an English degree shouldn’t be mixed with intolerance while living in East Texas. Good grammar in East Texas is going the way of the Hybrid Spider Monkey (trust me it’s not looking good for the little primates). The two elements are as compatible as oil and water. They go together like ice cream and pickles. They are associated with one another about like Jack Black and Academy Awards. You got it yet? For those few unfortunate readers, who are unfamiliar with the geographic setting classified as East Texas, let me help you. If you get out your map of Texas, stick the spike of a compass on Longview, then draw a circle of what would approximately be 100 miles all around, you have a rough calculation of what makes up East Texas. (You like how I keep capitalizing it like it’s a state in and of itself? I’m sure there are a few people down in Austin who would be more than happy to fill up a petition and allow us to annex ourselves from the rest of the state. Probably wouldn’t be a bad idea!) Well within that little circle of mapage (new word) there are thousands of people who ABSOLUTELY REFUSE to use proper grammar. And it aggravates the living crap out of me (that’s an odd saying isn’t it). A few years back, the word Ebonics was created to describe the language that African Americans use to communicate with each other (as a matter of fact, if you go to school at LSU, you can major in Ebonomics). So in the spirit of creation, I give you Hickonics. Hickonics is the unashamed use of improper grammar to communicate with both the educated and uneducated factions of society. There are a few commonly used phrases in hickonics that particularly get under my skin. “I aint got no”, “I done seen it”, “They done been” and “It don’t get no” are all commonly used statements of ignorance that are thrown around very loosely in this part of the country. Nothing makes someone sound more uneducated than improper grammar. But these idiots don’t care. I would worry about offending some of them if they are reading, but they probably stopped reading at Ernest Hemingway.

So Corey and I are constantly correcting our children when they fall off the wagon and begin speaking hickonics. I’m not talking about the cute little things that kids tend to mispronounce. Baylie used to call concrete, crete-cron and a suitcase, cutesase. Drew calls marshmallows, smarshmellas. Casey tells Drew not to underrupt her when she is talking. No, I’m not talking about these dyslexic mispronunciations. I’m talking about full blown conversations of stupidity. You never really know what your kids are paying attention to and what they hold onto when you are not around. Well one day during December, my mom was at her piano with Baylie and cousin Macy singing the Christmas song, “I’m Gettin Nuttin For Christmas.” The words are just that, “I’m gettin nuttin for Christmas, Mommy and Daddy are mad.” Baylie and Macy are singing at the top of their lungs when Drew comes bouncing around the corner. My mom tries to recruit Drew to join along. He stops them and lets them know he WILL NOT sing that song because you are supposed to say, “I’m not getting anything for Christmas.” Baylie rolled her eyes at him and said, “Drew! It’s just a song. Those are the words of the song. Just sing it.” Drew looks back at her and says, “Nope. Mommy and Daddy will be mad if I sing that song and then I might not get anything for Christmas.” Baylie just shook her head and kept singing. Drew left the room and went to get Baylie an application for LSU.

Of course, if there is an essay part on that LSU application requiring the applicants to describe some things he/she is good at, Baylie’s got a scholarship locked up. A few weeks back, the lesson at church was centered around being humble. When the kids broke into their Sunday school classes, they did an activity that was supposed to correlate with the theme of humbleness. I think Baylie missed the boat. After church, she ran up to us and handed us a piece of paper. This is exactly what was on it.
1. I am good at swiming.
2. I am good at reading.
3. I am good at gimnasticks.
4. I am good at siense.
5. I am good at math.
6. I am smart.
7. I am good at cherring.
8. I am good at …
One of Webster’s definitions of humble is “having a feeling of insignificance, inferiority.” I don’t think Baylie has an inferiority complex! Though she may have missed the underlying theme of the lesson, at least she didn’t start the paper with, “I done been good at swiming.”

I hope everyone had a Very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. I’m not one to make resolutions, but if you are, here’s hoping you don’t break em. And if your resolution is to use better grammar in 09, God Bless You. Spread the intelligence and join the cause to stomp out ignorance.

Screaming Goldfish

I wanted to post this anecdote Saturday night. It’s Monday and I think I am far enough removed from the event enough to write it objectively. Probably not, though. You’ll be shocked to find out that Casey threw a full blown conniption fit. It was one of her best. If her fit were a college football game, it would be an instant classic. It all started b/c we were invited to a birthday party for the 3 year old son of one of Corey’s co-workers. I say we…but let’s be honest, we all know that were it not for those 3 little angels, we wouldn’t have been invited to spend a Saturday night fighting 4 to 9 year olds for prize tickets at Chuck E Cheese. Truth be known, we were used for our kids. It happens all the time and it happens to all of us. You know what I am talking about. We are ALL guilty of it. Parents invite their friends that have kids to their kid’s birthday party. Nevermind that the kids don’t anymore know each other than they know who the New Kids On The Block are. And it doesn’t matter if the kids are boy or girl, black or white, rich or poor, ugly or cute (you know you were thinking it). As long as your kids are within a 5 year age range of the birthday child, you get invited. They want their kids to feel like they have a bunch of new friends who all of the sudden care that it is their birthday. But the kids don’t care. They are just there for the cake and ice cream. And party favors (If you want to really piss the parents off who you invite to the party, give away Goldfish as party favors. Thanks Jenee). So, as you could expect, we are in high demand. People need us....err our 3 kids. We raise the friend tally by 3 when we walk in the door. (And the noise level by at least 3 decibels.)

But that is not why I had to wait at least 48 hours to publicly record what took place at 1310 Canadian Street. No, that honor goes to sweet little Casey. Big surprise, huh? From the moment she woke up from her nap on Saturday afternoon, she was unbearable. And that’s putting it lightly. Nothing would satisfy her. She didn’t want anything to do with anybody. She didn’t want anybody talking to her. She didn’t want anybody looking at her. She didn’t want anybody even THINKING about looking at her. It got to a point, I had enough. I told her that if she didn’t stop acting the way she was, she was NOT going to the party (which would mean I would get to stay home with her, and while we’re being candid, I didn’t really want to go to that freaking party anyway. And, at this point, it was only about 3:30 in the afternoon and the party wasn’t until 6. So I liked my chances.). Well just the sheer mention of the possibility of her not getting to go completely set her off. She started jumping and stomping and yelling, “I WANT TO GO TO THE PARTY.” As you can see, my motivational tactics are brilliant! Very influential. My words are so profound…okay so I scrap the motivational ploy and resort to physical violence. I snatch her up and spank her. I know it was effective b/c it was one of those cries where her mouth was open, her eyes were closed and her face turned Razorback red, but nothing came out of her mouth. You know the one. The hesitation cry. You know it’s coming, it just takes a second. The calm before the storm. Then all hell breaks loose and every dog in the neighborhood starts howling and yelling in response…or maybe its capitulation. Anyway, she went to her room and calmed down eventually. The time comes to get ready to leave and Corey is getting her ready. Corey asked Casey to put her shoes on. All of the sudden, she became completely incapable of putting on a pair of shoes and let everyone in ear shot know she was not going to even try. The simple phrase, “I CAN’T!!” has become a source of content for me around our house. And she apparently likes to content me (whatever that means). Well that was it. She was not going to the party. I could have cut her right arm off without any anesthetic and she wouldn’t have screamed any louder than when I told her she wasn’t going. I didn’t really care. I have a high tolerance for ear-piercing bawling if it is a result of me depriving one of my children of joy. You know me, I just love torturing my children. Nothing gets me more excited. I love it. (You picked up on the sarcasm yet?) Well Corey, Baylie and Drew were in the car and ready to go. Corey looks at Baylie and she is in tears. The big fat alligator variety. Baylie cannot stand that she is going to the party and that Casey is upset, in trouble and not going. So Corey starts crying. Baylie starts getting out and says she doesn’t want to go to the party and Corey starts to follow her. All the while, Drew is in the back seat, still buckled and waiting patiently. He looks at Corey and says, “Do I have to go inside?”(Someone said something about cake and ice cream and party favors and Chuck E Cheese. He didn’t care who was going and who was staying-or whose party it was, for that matter. If he had to drive himself, he was going to that party!) When Baylie came in, I convinced her it was her duty as a big sister to go to the party and show Casey that you get rewarded for being good. So off they went. Casey went nuts when they left again, but after about 5 minutes, she was fine. We sat and watched a movie and ate pretzels and drank chocolate milk. It was a pretty enjoyable evening. About half way through the movie, she turned to me and said, “Daddy, I was being a bad girl so I didn’t get to go to the party. Next time I am going to be a good girl so I can go to the party.” Praise Jesus!! She can be cute and precious when she wants to be. At some point though, she’s gonna realize that she is not gonna get her way. She’ll learn eventually that it ends with me winning. Always. And the sooner she figures that out, the better off we will ALL be.

Tis The Season?!

4:59:54, :55, :56, :57, :58, :59…..5:00 am!! The Wal-Mart sales associates tear off the black cling wrap and all hell breaks loose. Imagine, if you weren’t there (and some of you probably were), grown men and women pushing and shoving each other to grab handfuls of anything from $2 DVDs to a $299 Nintendo Wii, Digital photo frames and 4gb flash drives. There was yelling and screaming and I swear I saw a sales associate get swallowed by a sea of angry women fighting over $4 children’s sweat suits. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn there were free crack rocks at the bottom of the product displays. This was my first Black Friday (why do we capitalize it like it is an official nationally observed holiday) experience so I was somewhat mesmerized by the insanity that was playing out. Then I remembered that we were there with a list and on a mission and it wasn’t to be a spectator in this fight for parent of the year. So I took a deep breath, made sure I had good traction with my shoes, told Corey to cover me and I went in. I could see the pile of Hanna Montana guitar/action figure combos dwindling by the millisecond. There was no time for timidity. I dove in and got what I went for, along with some things I didn’t want; namely an elbow to the ribcage, a smashed foot and a glare that would burn a hole through double pane glass from a lady who didn’t even want one of those stupid Hanna Montana guitar/action figure combos! It was absolutely nuts. I’m sure most of you heard about the Wal-Mart associate in New York who was trampled to death from, quote “out-of-control” shoppers (Talk about your all time understatements). What was the most disheartening about the whole scenario was that one of the shoppers was belligerent and furious and refused to leave when the store announced it was closing because of the death. She must have been that woman by the Hanna Montana guitars’ cousin.

Don’t ask why I went. It’s irrelevant. It really doesn’t matter. Really. OKAY!! I’ll tell you. Why else would I get up at 3 in the morning to be at Kohl’s by 4, Wal-Mart by 5, Home Depot by 6 and Target immediately following? Just to get a list of gifts so we could save $250 and lose valuable sleep that takes 4 days to recover from? Why? You know why! So at 6:30 on Christmas morning our children can run down the stairs with sleepy in their eyes and giddiness in their hearts. So they can turn the corner and experience pure unadulterated joy because some arthritic fat guy in a red suit landed 8 reindeer on our roof, somehow fit down our narrow soot covered chimney without setting off the alarm, ate all the rice krispie treats and drank the room temperature milk, managed to not make a sound while he left presents under the tree and left in the blink of an eye. I can just see it now. They will be so excited they won’t be able to see straight. They won’t be able to stop talking about what “Santa” brought them. They will want to rip into every one of their toys and play with them like it is the last toy on earth. They’ll run to their stockings and dump them out on the floor and rummage through the candy and rinky-dink toys “Santa” thought they just HAD to have. Then at approximately 6:37 it will all be over and we will be sitting around looking at each other wondering what the crap we do for the next 5 hours until we go to the grandparent’s house and do it all over again! All this hype and build up for about 7 minutes of insanity. I don’t know about you, but I CANNOT wait!

So that’s why I was up at 3 in the morning the Friday after Thanksgiving doing my part to put retailers back on the black side of the bottom line. Overall it wasn’t that bad. Corey and I kept a pretty good attitude and had I not been with my wife, I wouldn’t have had nearly as good a time. However, I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it to any of you. If you can afford to buy your gifts either before or after Black Friday, do it. If you can’t, make a list, map out your plan of attack, stick to your list and attack strategy and invest in an athletic support cup (for the male readers, obviously). And if a stocky lady with short brown hair wearing glasses and a gray sweatshirt gets in your way, watch out, she means business.

Too Much Time On My Hands

Well our season ended abruptly Saturday in Mesquite. We lost to Waco Midway and shouldn't have. We had dominated every statistical category throughout the game but were still behind. We KNEW at half that we were gonna win. Never a doubt in anyone's mind. The score was 14-10 Midway with about 2 minutes to go in the 3rd quarter when all hell broke loose. With Midway's drive having stalled on an errant pass into the endzone on 3rd and 13, one of our corners felt like the official should have called pass interference on the WR. The problem wasn't that he FELT the official should have made the call, the problem was he voiced it to the official and probably said some things that weren't particularly nice b/c the official threw him out of the game. One of our D-Linemen took umbrage to the official throwing one of his buddies out and he let the ref know it. He in turn got the hook and a one way ticket off the field. Well, the fun didn't stop there. Our ball boy threw the ball in to the official, the same one who just tossed two of our players, and it apparently had a little too much on it, b/c the official THREW THE BALL BOY OUT OF THE GAME!! (Oh, by the way, the said ball boy just happens to be our head coach's son) I cannot make this stuff up. So anyway, instead of 4th and 13 and a 40 yard field goal attempt into the wind to make it 17-10 at worst, they get the ball first and goal and inevitably score a touchdown. And the rest, as you all know, is history. As a matter of fact that may be the first time in the history of football that 2 players and a ball boy were thrown out of the game by the same referee and in a matter of about 90 seconds. What a joke.

So, needless to say, I have a little time on my hands. Too much as a matter of fact. We are out of school all week (which is ridiculous, b/c we go to school until June 10th). Well the honey-do's have apparently been piling up during the season, because after one day of hanging pictures, re-arranging our bedroom, relocating furniture throughout the house, cleaning out the fireplace, washing and folding laundry and keeping our 3 angels from killing each other all day, I am contemplating taking on a second job or start drinking something stiffer than Corona Light. I'll let you know.

Evidence that kids do say the darndest things:

Drew stayed with my sister and his 4 year old cousin, Eli, over the weekend instead of going to the game. When Corey went to pick him up, the following conversation took place between two 4 year olds and a grown woman:

Drew: Mom, when I was sleeping too long at Eli's house, I accidentally pee'd in Eli's bed.

Corey: Why did you do that?

Eli: Yeah, why did you do that again?

Drew: I didn't do it AGAIN, I just did it one time.

Eli: I guess your peanuts (their term for their man parts) didn't tell you to wake up and go potty.

Drew: Why would they do that? They can't even talk.

Eli: Oh.

Today as I was elbow deep in boxes trying to find our Christmas decorations in the garage, I overheard the following conversation between Baylie and Drew.

Drew: Hey Baylie, did you know that Adam and Ebe were in the Garden of Even.

Baylie: Drew...it's Eve and they were in the Garden of Eden.

Drew: Yeah. And they ate from the tree of knowledge.

Baylie: Yeah, but God didn't want them too.

Drew: Yeah, but Ebe...uh Eve made Adam eat it because the devil told them too. (at least he knows at a young age that Eve is the root of man's sinful nature)

Baylie: I know.

Drew: That's called sin, when you do something the devil tells you to. That's sin Baylie.

Baylie: Yeah, we should always do what God tells us to.

Drew: Hey Baylie, if you told me to eat an apple from the tree of knowledge and God didn't want me too, I wouldn't do it because that would be a sin.

Baylie: (No response. Probably wasn't real sure how to respond to that.)

So anyway, here are some pictures of the little evangelists.

Don't let those smiles fool you. Especially the one on the right.

Some people say he resembles me. I will call him...Mini-Me

Thankfully they look like their momma!


The root of my happiness.


Uh-huh. We tried to tell you. Those pictures above...that's what you see. This is our world. Every morning it's something with her. This day, it was breakfast. You see that bag of Cocoa Puffs?
"I DON'T WANT THAT MUCH!" That means there weren't enough in there for her!


I gotta go, Mr. Corona is trapped in the fridge and wants out. And you know me, always looking to help a brother out.

Jesus Loves The Little Children.

I know it has been a while, so keep your cute little comments to yourself. Football season isn’t exactly prime blogging time. (By the way, we finished the regular season 8-1 and are playing in the first round of the playoffs against Whitehouse this Friday night. Go Tigers!) Tonight, though, Corey seems to find it necessary to torture me with an episode of “The Hills” that she has recorded. A man can only take so much of something that has absolutely NO substantial value. I was on the verge of gouging my eyes out with a butter knife. On my way to the silverware drawer, I passed the computer and decided to blog, instead. Seriously, has anyone seen that stupid show? It is about NOTHING. The girls on that show are about as intelligent as an inbred retard from Crossett, Arkansas (trust me, they’re stupid). And they are about as interesting as an 80 year old Harvard professor giving a lecture on quantum physics. The show is about people who are famous for being famous. What the….? If you watch that show, stop. If you don’t watch it, don’t start. It is merely evidence as to the dumbing down of our society. What happened to classics like Cheers, Dukes of Hazzard, Sanford and Son, The Cosby Show…you get the picture. There are no shows like that on anymore. And if it is up to my wife, they won’t EVER be back on. Thanks a lot MTV.

Anyway, enough about ignorance. Let’s talk about me. Just kidding. Let’s talk about Drew. And how much he is like his daddy. We got a report from his school that Drew had been kissing some of the girls at school. The report didn’t come from one of his teachers, it came in the form of his older sister tattling on him (Which, by the way is one of our 2 deadly sins. The other one being no whining.) So I asked Drew if he had been kissing some of the girls at school. He looked at me and said, “Yes.” I asked him why he was kissing the girls at school. He said, “I don’t know. They didn’t ask me to, I just kissed them.” Now here is where a father is at a conundrum. You see, I have 2 daughters as well. I don’t want some snotty-nosed kid running around kissing on my girls. But it is different with boys. Kissing on girls is better than the alternative. A LOT BETTER. Plus, he can’t help it, he takes after his daddy. And if you only have girls, you understand my stance on this. And if you only have boys, you will never understand my opinion on that end of it, but I know you understand my happiness in his selection as to which gender was the target of his affection. So, what do I do? I told him not to go around school kissing the girls (I couldn’t let it get out of hand). He said okay and acted like it was no big deal. Well the next day we asked our sitter, Amanda, about it (who, by the way, has been a blessing from God. Our kids love her and she loves our kids. She picks up Baylie from school, takes her to the child care center where our other ones are and where she works part-time, and she brings them all home after school.). She laughed and said that Drew walked into school that day and announced, “My dad said I can’t kiss anymore girls at school…..but he didn’t say they couldn’t kiss me.” Amanda said the girls chased Drew around all day kissing and hugging him. He learned at a young age to use reverse psychology on them and play hard to get. That’s the kind of stuff you don’t figure out until WAY later on in life. That’s my boy.

All of this would have never come to fruition had Baylie not spilled the beans on her brother. I didn’t get too mad at her though. She can’t help it. It’s in her nature. She is the most thoughtful kid I know. I don’t know a lot of kids, but she is definitely the most thoughtful. I’m sure it because she is the oldest, but she is very protective and motherly towards Drew and Casey. She hates, absolutely HATES, for the little ones to get a spanking or get in trouble. It kills her. She is brought to near tears when they are upset. If she has something that they want, she gives it to them (we fuss at her and tell her not to give in to them, but she doesn’t care). If they want to sit where she is sitting, she gets up and moves. If they want the cup she is drinking out of, she gives it to them. She helps me and Corey with them all the time. She gets them something to eat or drink if we don’t want to get up for the 79th time to get it. She helps getting them ready in the morning. She tries to console them when they are sad or mad. They know it and they take advantage of her all the time, especially Casey (imagine that). She is very sweet and sensitive toward other people’s thoughts and feelings and especially those of her brother and sister. I know that is a good trait, but I don’t want her to be a push over. So Corey and I try to talk to her about telling them “no” sometimes. Hasn’t worked yet. Well, somehow, the subject of having another baby came up with her and Corey. (I’m still trying to figure out how that subject just “comes up”. It doesn’t. You have to be thinking about it. Apparently Corey has been thinking about it. That’s Great! Of course, if you watch The Hills long enough, your mind starts to wander b/c they never say anything useful. So I figure that’s where it started. Damn you MTV!) Back to the story. Corey asked Baylie what she thought about having another baby. Baylie looked at her with an are-you-kidding-me look and made a sound something like, “fmphnsh”. Corey asked what that meant. Baylie looked at her and, as serious as she could be, she told Corey, “I just don’t think I can handle another kid right now. Maybe when Casey gets a little bit older and starts acting a little better. But not right now.” I FEEL YA SISTER!!

Speaking of that little sweet innocent one. You know…the one who discourages me and Corey from repopulating the earth with beautiful, intelligent babies. Yeah that one. Corey was at Smokey Joe’s BBQ on kid’s night with her parents (Tuesday nights. One free kids meal with the purchase of an adult meal!) They had one of those blow up slides that have a retractor beam in them that sucks parents directly off I-30 and right into the restaraunt. You know the ones that are about 2 stories high that you see at used car lots at the end of the month when they are trying to clear out those six gold 2003 Ford Taurus’s they have left on the lot. Anyway, Corey and her parents were enjoying a nice adult conversation and the kids were frolicking up and down the slide. As East Texans say, they were having a good ol’ time. A Kodak moment. Memories that will last a lifetime. You get the picture. Then it was time to leave. Well, not according to Casey’s watch. According to her estimation, they still had a LONG time before it was time to go. But Momma don’t play that. Momma said it was time to go. So, it was time to go. That didn’t mean Casey had to like it. She threw herself down in the parking lot, took her shoes off and threw them across the pavement. Corey stayed calm, looked at Casey told her to pick her shoes up and get in the car. Casey wasn’t trying to hear that crap. She looked at Corey and yelled at her, “No. I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to get my shoes. I want to stay and play.” Corey snatched her up by one arm and drug her to the car. That just pissed Casey off even more. She is LIVID at this point. Corey sets her in the car seat and buckles her in. Casey doesn’t want to buckle in her car seat. Corey knows this because Casey told her, in her own sweet little way, “I don’t want to buckle in my car seat. I WANT my shoes on now. I don’t want to go home.” Corey doesn’t give in and walks around and gets in the car. When she gets around to the door, Baylie and Drew are yelling at Corey and Casey is still screaming. Corey turned around and saw that Casey’s fingers had gotten shut in the door. The problem is she was already so out of control, the inflexion in her cry never changed b/c it was already as loud as it could possibly be. Come to find out, the tips of her fingers just got pinched and she wasn’t hurt too bad. She’s lucky Corey was there and I wasn’t. She would have been asking to shut her fingers in the door after I got a hold of her. Later that week, we got a letter from Smokey Joe’s asking us not to come back because some of the other children had been traumatized by that “psychotic devil child”. Not really but I expect that letter any day now.

The Drew Man Cometh

Sometimes we let Baylie and Drew stay up during nap time to either watch a movie or color or draw or pretty much anything that consists of being quiet and letting that little-sweet-cute innocent one we have sleep. Because if that little one doesn’t get a nap; we need a 6 pack of something potent to get us through the evening. Anyway, this particular time was going just fine (Casey asleep, Baylie and Drew watching a movie upstairs in our room. Emphasis on CASEY ASLEEP) until we heard a thud, followed by what sounded like a herd of wildebeests trampling down the staircase. I got up and met them at the bottom of the stairs to find Drew crying and Baylie already pleading her case (a usual sign of guilt). They both started yelling and simultaneously telling their version of the ruckus. After sending them to their respective rooms for about 10 minutes to calm down, they came back down stairs and I got Baylie’s side of the story: Baylie “accidentally” pushed Drew off the bed. He bounced up and told Baylie, “That was fun, do it again”. What the little Einstein didn’t know is that he wouldn’t fall the exact same way and land exactly like he did the first time. As a matter of fact, he fell right on his head. At that point it was no longer his IDEA, it was Baylie’s FAULT. The following conversation ensued:

Dad: “Did you tell Baylie to push you off the bed?”
Drew: “Not the first time.”
Baylie: “It was an accident.”
Drew: “Nuh uh, she did it on purpose.”
Baylie: “No I didn’t”
Dad: “HEY!! DID. YOU. TELL. BAYLIE. TO. PUSH. YOU. OFF. THE. BED?” (sometimes I have to slow down for him)
Drew: “No.”
Baylie: (In tears) “Yes he did. I PROMISE.”
Drew: “Not the first time!”
Dad: “Did you the second time.”
Drew: “Yes”
Dad: “Why did you ask Baylie to push you off the bed.”
Drew: “I don’t know.”
Dad: “Was it fun the first time?”
Drew: “Yes, but I didn’t ask her to the first time. She just pushed me.”
Dad: (On the verge of strangling the little genius) “I understand that, but did you ask her to push you the SECOND time?”
Drew: (With finger in mouth) “Mmmmhhmmm.”
Dad: “Well that’s what you get then. You asked her to push you and she did. What did you expect?”
Mom: (Interjecting her motherly wisdom) “You shouldn’t have told her to push you.”
Drew: “I didn’t tell her to push me the first time.”

That dude was bound and determined to get her in trouble!

But that little guy does love his sisters and sometimes he shows it better than other times. With the start of the school year, Corey and I remembered an instance when he found a good way to express his adoration for his older sister. (Usually it is in the form of repeating EVERY word she says, pestering her to the point of punching him and both of them getting in trouble. He has a ways to go in learning how to deal with females. But, if he sticks with me, he’ll be just fine!!) Anyway, back to our story.

When we were leaving Nacogdoches, Baylie was really sad that she was leaving her school. She loved her teachers, her friends, her principal and everything about Raquet Elementary. We knew she would be fine in her new school and we tried to pump her up and get her ready for her last day. We thought she would do fine and for the most part, she did. Well Drew just happened to be with me when we picked her up. And just as we expected, Baylie was pretty sad. She was fighting off tears. Each of her classmates had made her a going away card. She was sitting in the back of the van beside Drew. She started reading some of the things her classmates wrote to her and it made her even sadder. He could tell that she was upset so he reached down and grabbed a 4-leaf clover that he had made at pre-school. (The day he made it, he said it was for me; he left it in the car and the next day told Corey that he made it for her, and now it was for Baylie! That little kiss-a*#.) He handed it to her and said, “Here Baylie, I made this at school. It’s for you. It’s a shamrock and it will make you lucky at your new school.

He’s more like his daddy than I thought!

We play our first game this week, at John Tyler. It’s nice to finally be at a place where the talk is about how much we SHOULD win by. Not just hoping that we keep it close! Corey is giddy because she can pull up the guide and scroll far enough over to see the college football listings and check out the matchups. She loves college football. She will sit and watch a good game even if I am not home! MY JOB IS DONE! She has come a long way since that first date when I swept her off her football-deficient feet. (That’s a story for another post). I’m so proud I could kiss her just thinking about it. As a matter of fact, I think I will. Right now. Good Night.

Home Sweet Home

Hello strangers. How’s it going? It’s been a while. Sorry about that. We’ve been a little busy. When we haven’t been busy, I have been too tired to stare at a computer and try to come up with something cute. I haven’t been in a cute mood. So as you regular readers know, based off of the time it's been since our last post, this will be a pretty long post. If you must, break it up and read it in parts. Drink some coffee. Take bathroom breaks. Save some for tomorrow. Just be happy it’s something.

The last time you heard from us, we were getting ready to move into our house. You Remember our June 4th post; “The people who are occupying our house are moving out this weekend so we are going to start painting and getting it ready to move. Hopefully within 2 weeks we will be sleeping in our own bed.” Well…optimism will only get you so far.

The day the previous owners walked out of the house, Saturday June 7th, Corey and I had a bounce in our step. We were gonna walk in, scrape some acoustic texture (popcorn) off the ceilings, remove some wallpaper, paint some rooms and move our stuff in. Two weeks. MAX. Thinking back on that day. It was the WORST day of our married lives. Literally. What was giddy excitement, soon turned to angry frustration. For starters, we could have earned platinum membership privileges with locks of love for dogs with all the dog hair we got off the floors. There was dog pee stained in the carpet, on the doors, on the floors, on cabinets and in places that dogs can’t even fit into. The house was disgustingly filthy. So we had to clean. No, we had to decontaminate our house before we could do anything. Needless to say, we were riding a wave of emotions with nothing more than a flat bottom paddleboat to take us through it!

So Corey started cleaning and I started trying to remove the wallpaper border in our room. Allow me to let you in on a little secret: there is not a product on the market that is worth a crap when it comes to removing wallpaper. If there is, they don’t sell it over the counter. After about 3 hours of scouring, squirting, scraping and peeling, I had 1/4th of our room free of the I Love the 80’s wallpaper border. At this rate, with all of the wallpaper in the house, we would have moved in about Spring Break. I was frustrated and if the guy from Lowe’s, the one who told me that bottle of wallpaper crap was the best thing since rice krispie treats, had been standing in my house, I would be awaiting trial for aggravated assault.

So, because I was fuming mad at Mr. Home Improvement expert, what did I do? What most red blooded males do, I took it out on my wife. Which turned out to be somewhat of a volatile situation because she couldn’t talk without crying or see straight because she was so mad. I don’t think I have to paint you a picture of why she was so mad. Just imagine being on your hands and knees scrubbing dog pee for about 4 hours. So instead of escalating an already explosive situation, I did what most red blooded males would have done. I left. I didn’t even know where I was going. I just left. I started at Lowe’s b/c I was going to give Mr. Home Improvement expert a small piece of my mind. Seriously. But he wasn’t working when I got there. He must have known I was coming! So I walked around looking for something to jump off the shelf and land in my arms screaming, “Hey, take me home. I can fix your problem. I can help you.” You know a good ole sign from God. Isn’t that how he works? Well God must have been busy with the starving pigmies in New Guinea at that moment because I left Lowe’s empty handed. So on to Sherwin Williams. When I got to the paint experts, I was a lost, beaten-down, wandering puppy dog. Luckily, God sent an angel to work that day. Her name was Lindsey. I told her my problem. I told her I didn’t know what to do. I told her I needed help. I told her if she didn’t help me, I was holding her personally accountable for wrecking my marriage. (Someone needed to be blamed) She had the answer to my problems and my prayers. The Wagner Power Tex. A do-it-yourself sized electric mud gun that sprays texture on your walls (covering wallpaper) and ceilings all wrapped up in a 12 inch by 12 inch box of marital bliss. After an hour of motivational prodding and a short tutorial, I was sold. She convinced me that I could master the art of mudding. I was willing to try anything. So I became the proud owner of a texture gun. I was a mud man. And, most importantly, still married.

Financial advisors suggest not making spur of the moment purchases. And usually when I make one of these purchases, I am a little apprehensive to tell Corey. This time, however, when I got out of the car with my Power Tex, I felt like Tim The Tool Man Taylor. I wanted to growl and grunt but I figured Corey wasn’t in the mood. Corey didn’t even complain. I think she was just glad I was trying something. So with a new power tool and a new attitude, we got to work…that next morning. At that point, I didn’t want anything to do with that marriage wrecking, money pit of a house for the rest of that day.

Well, three and a half weeks later, I had the experience necessary to be a certified professional mudder person. (That’s industry jargon) I scraped 2100 square feet of ceilings. (Note: You get a complimentary strain in your shoulders when you scrape acoustic off the ceilings, just as an added bonus). I sprayed and textured ceilings and walls. We painted EVERY square inch of walls in the house. With help from our Angelic Saleswoman at Sherwin Williams, we painted and faux finished our fireplace (it was already painted a dingy off-white). My dad and I knocked out a cabinet in our kitchen. We changed light fixtures. We painted our front door. We did about $15,000 dollars worth of work on our house ourselves. There is a show on DIY called Sweat Equity. Corey and I just laugh when it comes on; they ain’t got nothin on us! (Yes that’s correct English if you live in East Texas) So, if any of you need some work done around your house, call me. I’ll let you borrow my tools.

So we finally moved in on July 2nd. It’s not our dream house, but this house feels more like home than any of our other houses we have lived in. It’s got a lot of our elbow grease and sweat all over it and we are proud of it. That’s why we like to be here. Therefore, if you call and invite us over, we are likely to politely decline. We waited a long time to move in and put a lot of hard work into it. We like to hang out here. Plus, we spent all of our gas money on joint compound. So unless you are calling to cook us dinner…

Little Angels

Well how’s this for inconsistency? Our last post was only 17 days from our previous one. This one is over 6 weeks since the last one. I can’t say that life got in the way b/c we haven’t done a whole lot outside of our routine life, which is part of the reason we (I) haven’t posted. The cold hard truth is…our daily lives are just that, routine.

Although thinking about it, I don’t think using the word routine is fair since Webster’s defines the adjective form of routine as, “following or agreeing with established form, custom, or rules”. HA! That is the furthest thing from what goes on in our household. Established form, customs and rules be damned! I think our kids are banding together to form a mutiny and try to over-throw the communist parenting dictatorship that we practice. I got my eyes on those little Nazis.

So our daily battle of good vs evil (you decide who is who) always starts with the evil dictators (I’ll gladly hold that title, you don’t have to decide) threatening the defiant insolents with solitary confinement--complete with only bread and water and no contact with the outside world for a week--just to get them out of bed and get their clothes on. Which has become another issue in and of itself. For some indescribable reason, Drew has a new found affection for clothes that are too small for him. HE WILL NOT PUT ON A NEW SHIRT WITHOUT A FIGHT (a perfectly good shirt that Corey spent hours upon end diligently scouring the aisles of Target, Kohls, TJ Maxx, Old Navy, The Children’s Place and any other store within a 200 mile radius of Texarkana just to find him the right shirt. And her the right shoes. And baylie the right dress. And Casey the right shorts. And…you get the picture). But give the little guy credit; he is stubborn like his momma. He will take a spanking like a champ before he puts on a new shirt. The ones from last year work just fine, thank you very much. I think, however, we have solved the problem.

Two Sundays ago, as we were getting ready for church, he threw one of the biggest tantrums he has ever thrown. All because his shirt was too big, his shorts were too big and his shoes hurt his feet (canvas boat shoes). After attempts at reasoning with the little Stalin clone, I had had enough! I snatched him up by his arm and spanked him as hard as I have ever spanked him. Sat him on the couch and walked away. He was wailing and hollering like I had just cut off his arm (little did he know, that was my next resolution tactic). Well Corey had heard all she wanted and she went in and told him to stop crying or she was going to spank him too and give him something to cry about!! (We do turn into our parents, scary) Well he didn’t stop, so she got the wooden spoon out and proceeded to give him an excuse to cry. She then informed him that he could sit on the couch crying and get another spanking or he could go put his clothes on. By this time, I think he realized he needed his left leg to walk correctly for the rest of his life and at the rate he was going, it was going to be beaten off by the time church started. He decided to put his clothes on. When we finished with Drew, we walked back into the bedroom and Casey was standing in the middle of the room, fully dressed. She looked up at me and said, “Daddy”. I snapped at her and said, “WHAT?!” She looked back at me with those big beautiful hazel eyes and said, “My shirt’s not too big.” Hallelujah! Let’s go to church. At that point I needed some Jesus.

So this past Sunday when Drew started whimpering about the clothes we picked out, I looked at him and calmly said, “Drew, do you remember what happened last Sunday? So I’m gonna give you a choice today, you can either put your clothes on like I asked you to, or you can get a spanking and I will put your clothes on for you.” Because after all, life is full of choices. And I was so proud he made the right choice that morning. He even ASKED for his boat shoes. I was going to let him wear his tennis shoes. Let’s keep that between you and me though.

But before you start singing Casey’s praises. Let me let you in on a little something about Casey. Sweet and innocent Casey. God bless her. She is so cute. She’s just adorable. She’s so precious. At least that is what you all tell us. I think the next person that says that, I am going to punch them right in the mouth then send that sweet, innocent, cute, adorable, precious little angel home with them and turn my phone off. She’s bad. Sometimes, in the hip hop culture, bad can mean bad or bad can mean good. Well, we live in the literal culture at our house and Casey is BAD. Meaning BAD. And when Mammy (grandma) tells Corey, after a morning fit, that she would have put her in the van and left her there while everyone else got ready to go. You know she is bad. She is the reason we only have 3 children. As stupid and inconsiderate and annoyingly retarded our society is becoming, I thought it may be our lot to try and populate the earth with as many God-fearing, respectful, intelligent children as we can to counteract the ignorance that is being produced on a daily basis. But somewhere along the way, we screwed it all up. God may have another in store for us, but I think he knows that if he added another element to our three-ring madhouse right now, they would commit Corey and me, take the kids and put them in protective custody. Although, if that happened, they would just bring them back and release us under the pretense that it takes a crazy person to care for our hoodlums.

If you haven’t already, before you call CPS, you should know we love our children. If we didn’t nobody else would. Just kidding. But seriously, they’re bad. For us, anyway. We always talk to them after we spank them, explain why we spanked them, tell them it hurts us more than it hurts them (We really are our parents!) and tell them we love them; and they are usually over it in about 27 seconds. I just don’t see the benefit of time out. I know it works for some parents but not us. I don’t think we got the right user’s manual on time out. If any of you have it…keep it. We’re gonna stick with this wooden spoon tactic for a while.

So everyday, by the time we have gotten the kids ready and into the car, it seems like it should be 5 or 6 in the evening. Only, it’s not. We still have to take them to preschool . You know, the place with the profanity-inducing construction that conveniently occurs between the hours of 7:30 to 5:30. Then we go to work, go back through construction hell to pick the kids up, feed them dinner (I’ll save that experience for another day), bathe the kids (another blog-worthy event, another time maybe), and put them to bed (again, everything is a process for us). Then, finally, Corey and I try to bring our blood pressure and heart rate down enough to talk to each other in a manner that would insist that we do, in fact, love each other before we both pass out from exhaution. So I’m sorry about the length of the post and the time between them. Hopefully, I will have more time in the present future. Being that it is summer and all.

Quick hits…We really enjoyed our visit to a church this past Sunday. It was our 3rd visit. We are going to visit some more and try to get into a Sunday School class to see how we connect with the people. We will keep you posted…The people who are occupying our house are moving out this weekend so we are going to start painting and getting it ready to move. Hopefully within 2 weeks we will be sleeping in our own bed. Not a moment too soon.

Deep Thought…Is it me, or does the popcorn button on the microwave ALWAYS burn your popcorn? I think the microwave companies are getting kick backs from the popcorn companies to burn the popcorn so we will have to buy more. I need to find out whom to talk to about this. It’s gone on long enough.

There's more, but I've got to run. Gonna go buy Drew a size 4 shirt and make him wear it to school so the other kids can laugh at him and call him names like: weird-boy-with-shirt-that-fits, or say things things like, "Hey look at that kid, he looks stupid with that right-size shirt on!

Take care and support your local high school football team.

From 240S

Okay, for the blog patrol, here is another post—only 17 days after our last one. Apparently some of you wake up in the morning, wipe the sleepy from your eyes, pour a hot cup of joe, sit down in front of your computer, check your email and PRAY that there is an update in your inbox from the exhilarating Graves family blog. And, with great anticipation, you open your inbox, only to see that it is filled with nothing more than: “How to lose weight AND eat what you want” or “Get out of debt for only $49.99 a month” junk mail followed by a random chain letter that requires you to forward to 10 people in order to solidify your place in heaven or risk losing your salvation. It’s at that moment that your heart rate begins to slow down and you begin to face the reality that you are once again going to have to go through the day without an update from the gravesreport. Your day begins with an ominous shadow hanging over your head; and you fight through the day as best you can so that you can get home, go right to bed and wake up the next morning with those little butterflies in your stomach. Now…SHUT UP.

WEEKEND GETAWAY
This post is coming to you from 240S, a 10x10 room in the corner of the pediatric wing in the South Tower of Christus St. Michael Health System. A hospital room. Drew woke up Friday morning about 2:00 crying of a stomach ache. Equipped with a 101 temperature and full doses of Zyrtec, Ibuprofen and an Ambien, Corey got up and tried to console him. He calmed down a little (enough for her to go back to bed). 30 minutes went by and I was startled by a swift kick in the middle of my back with my lovely and wonderful wife growling at me to get up and see if I can do something for Drew.

I go in to where he is sleeping and find him doubled over in pain and taking short choppy breaths. I inquire about what is wrong (because being doubled over and taking short choppy breaths isn’t enough evidence for a man, especially when he is half asleep) and he tells me his stomach hurts. He never complains about anything outside of his sisters aggravating him. Luckily I can think fast on my feet, even in a sleepy daze. So I rush to the kitchen, grab a cup out the cabinet and fix him a drink of water. DAD TO THE RESCUE!!

That just pissed him off more. So after about 15 minutes of unsuccessful consoling, a 2:45 WedMD search of chronic stomach pains, and another 5 minutes of deliberation, Corey and I brilliantly diagnosed Drew with Appendicitis. 8 years of college for a medical license, what a scam! Seeing how Drew had appendicitis, we thought it would be a good idea to take him to the emergency room. Contrary to most ER horror stories, we got right in. (The ER nurses must know who we are, either that or they sit around the computer and read our blog) Well after a blood test and some x-rays, the doctor came in and UN-confirmed what Corey and I knew. That Drew has pneumonia. Guess those 8 years have some merit. They admitted him and have pumped him full of antibiotics and steroids. That’s usually a good thing, except the first antibiotic they gave him was Rocefin. Seems harmless enough. One problem, he’s allergic to it. He broke out in hives and escalated an already volatile situation. They gave him some Benadryl and it finally kicked in an hour later and he fell asleep for about 4 hours. HALELUJAH! (I’ve got a great slogan for a Benadryl commercial: “Benadryl, keeping parents sane and children asleep for 45 years now”)

He is doing better today (Saturday) and the doctor is supposed to be here about 7 in the morning (Sunday morning…I won’t hold my breath). Whether his tests show it or not, he is back to his normal self and ready to go home. I was able to talk Corey into going home and letting me stay tonight so I thought it was the perfect time to get the blog police off my case. Plus, we are watching the same VHS copy of Dora the Explorer for the 37th time since we’ve been here. This may be a longer post than anticipated.


EARNING HER KEEP
Corey started her new job this past week. She is working for the orthodontist that she interviewed with. If you read about it on our other blog, you know what I am talking about. (If you haven’t, refer to the last paragraph of our last post). Everything is going really well. She is the new person so she is trying to figure out which way is right and which way is left. Of course, in dental terms it’s all backwards because they are looking in your mouth and have to speak in opposites from what their perspective is. So you can imagine how confusing it can all become. Anyway, on top of learning new responsibilities and office policies, she has the undesirable task of trying to fit in with an office full of women. And for good measure, my aunt is the office manager and rules with an iron fist, so they all almost certainly have a preconceived notion about Corey. Most of them probably don’t like her just for being Vickie’s niece. The other ones probably don’t like her because she is undoubtedly much hotter than anyone else in the office; and you know how silly women can be about stuff like that. Good luck with that baby.

Since Corey has a new job, the kids have to have somewhere to go. We thought about letting them stay home by themselves but we figured CPS and most judges would not think it was as good an idea; regardless of how much money we could save. So off to preschool they go. Sonlight Learning Center. I know what you’re thinking…6 years of college and an English degree from the University of Arkansas will land you right in the middle of misspellville. Because “sunlight” is spelled with a U and not an O. (Plus this idiot is probably writing this post on Word to take advantage of spell check and the thesaurus before he copies and pastes it for the entire world to read) Well, as a matter of fact, it’s a catchy little name that references the Son of God and they have a Christian curriculum incorporated into their daily lessons. Now how stupid do you feel? The only problem is that it is in an area of town where the road has yet to be upgraded in order to accommodate the traffic; thus promoting road rage and causing one to participate in actions and language that completely go against the fundamental truths of the foundation of the school. They need to relocate, or widen the road.


IN SEARCH OF…
We have visited a few more churches since our last post. We talked to a few people and researched a couple of these places. Each Sunday morning we would wake up with a childlike optimism that this was going to be the one. Blue Hair First Baptist Church didn’t exactly have what we were looking for. The other was a bible church that had Casey Kasem preaching…uh “hosting” the sermon. We left the church and turned on our local top 40 station to try and find the real Kasem just to make sure. So back to the drawing board.

We have started a new feature on this blog called, FLASHBACK. We will insert random memories throughout our blog that may not necessarily have anything to do with anything that has been posted. But we are going to post them anyway because we haven’t written them down anywhere; and what better place than the gravesreport?

FLASHBACK
I was running some errands and Drew and Baylie were in the back of the 2004 Toyota Sienna Mini Van, in other words, the ladies magnet. Baylie was 6 and Drew was 3. Baylie turned to Drew and the ensuing conversation took place:

Baylie: Drew do you know what is in your heart?
Drew: Yeah.
Baylie: What?
Drew: Butterflies and Bumblebees.
Baylie: (serious) NO Drew! Do you know what is in your heart?
Drew: YES!
Baylie: Just say no. Do you know what is in your heart?
Drew: Uhhh, no.
Baylie: Jesus is in your heart, Drew.
Drew: Okay.
Baylie: Is Jesus in your heart, Drew?
Drew: Yes.
Baylie: (getting aggravated) Drew!! Just say no. Is Jesus in your heart?
Drew: Uhhh, no.
Baylie: Do you know what happens if Jesus is not in your heart?
Drew: Yes.
Baylie: (aggravation increasing) DREW!!! Say no. Do you know what happens if Jesus is not in your heart?
Drew: (beginning to lose interest in the conversation) No.
Baylie: You go to hell. Do you want to go to hell, Drew?
Drew: No.
Baylie: Do you know why not?
Drew: Because my friend Caleb isn’t there. (Caleb was/is a friend of Drew’s who is perfectly healthy and probably glad he doesn’t have a 6 year old sister to condemn him to hell)
Baylie: No, Drew, you don’t want to go to hell because Jesus isn’t there and you will burn in the fire.
Drew: Hey Baylie, look at this dinosaur I found.

*This conversation brought to you in part by the children’s ministry at Grace Bible Church in Nacogdoches. Andy Howell is the director and any discrepancies or complaints should be made directly to Andy.

Catchin Up

Sorry it's taken so long. Here's what's new with the Graves:

You may wanna grab a snack and go to the restroom before you start. Sorry it has taken so long. And that it is so long.

We closed on our house in Nacogdoches. It was a bittersweet day. We were excited and relieved to finalize it; but, at the same time, we were sad b/c it meant leaving a lot of great friends behind.

We have all of our stuff...er crap...in storage. Thankfully a few of the guys on the team helped us move everything into storage. So even though we have moved, we are by no means settled and basically have another move on the horizon when we move into our house. I'm glad I work with the football team and have eager and able helpers, well I don't know how eager they are; but they probably didn't feel like they could tell me no when I asked them this last time so I am gonna hit em up again. Give a few bucks, feed em a little food and they are happy.

Living with my parents (Corey's in-laws-in case you couldn't put it together quick enough) has been going...knock on wood...really well. Corey is doing a great job of trying to make it all work so she gets most of the credit. The only source of tension is our dog, Oskie. My parents aren't exactly "dog" people (I don't know why I used quotation marks, I hate it when people do the quotation mark sign with their hands when they talk and I think typing it is borderline just as ridiculous). Anyway, back to the dog at Mom and Dad's house. (You ever wonder why you refer to your parents house as mom and dad's instead of dad and mom's? Dad's are usually considered the primary provider for the household. I guess it's b/c mom's run the house!) Sorry, back to the dog again. Anyway, my folks house is not dog-proofed so there is stuff all around their backyard and Oskie has found a way to get into all of it, and destroy most of it. So we spend a lot of time cleaning up the backyard every few days. One particular day, Corey spent a good hour picking up six 200 count bags of craft beads that Oskie had scattered all over the yard. You know the ones...those little ones that Hobby Lobby sells in mass quantities to vacation bible school directors. When she was done and mentioned to my dad what she had done, he thought that was hilarious. He laughed and said, "You should have just dug a hole and raked them all into it and buried them instead of picking them all up." Typical man, but oddly enough, Corey wasn't laughing.

When we left SFA, our insurance ran out. I couldn't convince the administration to keep paying that for me. JERKS!!! We decided to not continue coverage through Cobra b/c we would have all had to break 3 limbs, contract the bird flu and break out in the mumps for us to justify paying what that racket costs to maintain our coverage. We got a supplemental plan that was half the cost but only covered major medical. You know, breaking limbs or contracting rare viruses. Well we did a pretty good job of staying healthy except for the last week of March (our new coverage kicked in April 1, no joking). Drew started running fever and coughing up pieces of lung. Actually, hacking would be a better description. It wouldn't go away with ibuprofen, tylenol and chocolate milk. So we bit the bullet and took him to the doctor. So we got to pay 100% of a new sick patient doctor's visit and THREE prescriptions. Of course, there wasn't one generic catch-all drug we could give him. I know it could have been worse, but I wanted to vent...

Baylie still loves her school. Her new best friend is Kennedy Preston, the daughter of our LB's coach and one of the second grade teachers (Mrs. Preston for any of our slow readers). Mrs. Preston told Corey--in front of Baylie--that whenever Corey started work that Baylie could hang out in her room with her until Corey got off work. Well Corey and Baylie were driving down the road, and out of nowhere, Baylie said, "Mom, when are you going to sign up for some work so I can go to Mrs. Amber's room?" If any of you know where she can "sign up" (I did it again) for some work please post it in the comment section. Or Call. Now. Right Now. Seriously.

Speaking of Baylie's school. Corey went to pick her up from school one day. The date is irrelevant, it was just one day. Anyway, she got there a little early and decided to turn the car off and leave the radio on. She ought to write commercials for Guiness Beer, b/c she is "Brilliant!" (there are those damn quotations again). Baylie came out, got in the van, all the kids were buckled and ready to go. Only one problem...do you really need me to tell you? With a line of cars backed up to the corner, she needed a little help. Well thankfully there was a dad there with jumper cables and a little compassion. He came over and helped her out. So Corey got jumped by one of the dads. Wait...she got a boost...hold on...you get the point.

Two nights ago, we were lying in bed and the tornado sirens started sounding. Corey turned the television to local news and found out that there was a tornado warning or watch or alert or whatever is serious, really serious, for Texarkana. She woke me up just in time to hear Ron Young declare that there was a threat of a tornado hitting the downtown area of Texarkana. Well, dad and mom's (shout out to the dad's) house is just about 1 mile from downtown. So I jump up, look out the window and guess what I saw??? A light was on in the van. So I run outside to turn the light off...don't need my wife needing to get jumped from anymore dads. I ran back inside and within about 30 seconds, literally 30 seconds, lemon sized hail started falling. It broke out one of the windows in the bedroom Corey and I are sleeping in. We got Baylie and Drew up (Casey was in Ashdown with Corey's parents) and put them in the closet. They fell right back asleep and never knew what was going on. The next morning as I was leaving I noticed the back glass of the new (used) car we have (was Corey's PawPaw's car when he passed away) had a softball sized hole in it and the glass was shattered. Corey took it to her folks to park it in their garage until we can get it fixed. She had Drew in the car and every bump they hit, a little bit of the glass fell into the back hatch (no it's not a station wagon, it's a Mitsubishi Outlander and IT IS COOL). Once Drew realized what was going on, he was oohin and wowin and thought that was the coolest thing he has seen. It doesn't take much. He said, " I wish your Paw Paw was here to see this, he would be mad. But, he had to die so he could go to heaven." I don't really have anything smart to say about that. Pretty matter-of-fact.

Quick hits:

We have visited 3 churches and have liked something about all of them, but we are still visiting and looking for that "something" (Again? I am a tool).

Corey interviewed with a dentist today. Well, an orthodontist, and they typically don't have hygienists and I am not exactly sure why he is hiring one. Something about brackets and scraping sealant and patient education and David Cook is my vote for American Idol. Sorry, my mind wondered like it did when Corey was telling me what the job consisted of. I understand about half of what Corey says when she talks about what she does anyway. I'll let her tell you about it on our other blog, www.blahblahblah.boringblogs.com. I love you baby.