There she goes to save the day...

Yes siree. Amelia rode her bike, without training wheels, for the first time tonight. I am literally beside myself.

I want to say thanks to Tim Marti, who told me about a new(relatively) method to help kids learn to ride a bike. Worked like a charm.

About a week ago, I took the training wheels off of Amelia's bike. I also removed the pedals. Anyone who knows our risk-averse kid, knows that the training wheels coming off is a huge deal. She saw the stripped-down bike in the garage and asked me why I took off the pedals. I told her she had to kick around on the bike for a total of 3 hours, before I would put them back on.

She started out slowly, just barely pushing herself along. Over the next several days, she would spend 10 or 20 minutes at a time, kicking her way around the driveway and on the walkway to the front door. Each time she seemed to be a little more stable and moved a little faster.

Today she was zipping around and asked if it was enough time for me to put the pedals back on. I said it was close enough and had them on in a couple of minutes. She was really nervous when she picked up the bike and climbed on. I told her to just put her feet down, if she needed to, like she had been doing for the last week. She started out kicking her way around the driveway, picked up her feet and put them on the pedals, and stated riding. Just like that.

Riding a bike, takes a lot of little skills and a little bit of confidence to come together at the same time. An admittedly tall order for a Barfield. My kid pulled it off in grand fashion. I could not be more proud.

stayathomebryan is pleased. very pleased.

I'm in way too deep...

This is how I found out.

Amelia likes Miley Cyrus, and Selena Gomez, and Miranda Cosgrove, and on and on and on. I usually let her watch a show or two when she gets home from school, before homework and "whatever" activity that particular afternoon. This particular afternoon it was "Hannah Montana - The Movie". It was also dance class night but, I'm getting ahead of myself.

I have to admit I like the TV the kid watches now, compared to just a few years ago. Hannah, Wizards of Waverly Place and iCarly are much more watchable, for adults, than Dora, The Wiggles and Imagination Movers. Some of the jokes are clearly written for grown-ups and the rest is... well, it's ok. My complaint? There are a finite number of shows and episodes, so it doesn't take long to know them. Word for word, beginning to end.

This particular afternoon, Amelia watched some of "Hannah Montana - The Movie", then turned it off to do homework and get a bath before dance class at 5:30. As is typical, we were rushing to get her ready and out the door to class. I let her watch some more of the movie as I did her hair(it helps keep her still long enough for me to ponytail...easy peasy) and somehow we left it on when we took off for the dance studio. Parents are not allowed to stay and watch the class so, I usually go home to cook dinner. I have to pick her up again at 7:00. That means I have just enough time to get home, get it made, then get back to pick her up.

I walked into the house and right into the kitchen. I was deep into making dinner, the tv was providing background noise, when the "ho-down" scene came on. You remember the one, right? It's when Miley is pulled up on stage, to do a number with the band, and gets everyone dancing to that catchy song, "doin' the ho-down, doin' the ho-down...". You don't remember it?... Oh. Well, it is actually a pretty good song. I know, but it is... I guess.

Unconsciously(I swear), I rocked out to the song, as I was cooking and a couple of minutes later found myself reciting dialog. Out loud. In my kitchen. By myself. Hannah Montana dialog. I had been listening to Hannah Montana on the tv, rockin' & recitin', for almost 45 minutes. No kid in the house. The realization stopped me in my tracks. I mixed a drink, walked into the living room and switched the tv to Sirius XMU, turned the stereo up to mind-numbing, sat on the couch, and had myself a little cry. Having so completely lost my dignity, I deserved it.

stayathomebryan is much better now. Really.

The last three weeks have been...

a flippin' nightmare. It has been rainy, thunderstormy, tornadoee etc... Like I'm telling you anything. You've been through it too. Our family just gets our own special twist, a bonus if you will, when the weather goes south.

Gator has been our dog for almost 11 years. He is cute, loving, affectionate, loyal and defective. I have to admit, he was something of a substitute child for us, before Amelia came along. We treated him like a furry little person and reveled in his company. Alas, all good things come to an end. He has never fully accepted being busted back to dog status, even though it has been over 7 years. I don't feel bad about it. I really can't stand my dog.

Gator has a real problem with weather. The first second that he realizes it is raining, is going to rain, might rain or anyone mentions rain, he starts running around the house crying and whining like someone pissed in his kibbles. Heaven forbid there is lightning and thunder. At the first sign, his whining becomes shrieks and he tears about looking for any mini-blinds that have been carelessly left within his reach. In seconds, he will proceed to shred them until they are in a bloody heap on the floor. His blood. Bites 'em 'til his mouth bleeds. He's an idiot.

During nice weather, at night, he sits on the floor staring at the front window. When a car passes and their headlights reflect off the glass, he starts barking and running through the house. He thinks it's lightning. This occurs about 40 times a night. Even with the blinds closed. A camera flash has the same effect. He is the dumbest dog I've ever met.

"Oh, you are so mean stayathomebryan. Gator is such a sweet dog. You don't deserve such a fine animal" says you. Well maybe. I feel compelled to point out he was given to us. For free. We probably should have asked for references, or a warranty, or the name of the town these generous people were moving to, at the very least.

We have tried all the reasonable options to help him through his time of distress. We've held and petted him while softly chanting positive affirmations. We've crated him with his favorite toys. Comforting him is actually more of a struggle as he fights to run about screaming doggy screams. We've sedated him with prescription tranquilizers and Benedril. It worked early on. Now he just takes it as a sign that storms are on the way and starts stressing and panting and pacing.

The icing on the cake is when he ends up in the garage during his antics. Many of these storms roll in at precisely 3 am. He can go from dead asleep to high alert the second a single raindrop hits a window pane. I no longer hesitate. I get up and open the door to the garage and out he runs. I have a dog bed out there expressly for these occasions. Once securely out of the house, he barks, cries, screams and crashes about to his heart's content. And he poops. Yep, that's the icing. By morning, he has run through that icing and is wearing it up to his elbows. He has trampled it all across the floor and painted it on the garage door with his little doggy paws. And I get the privilege of scrubbing him up after making breakfasts and lunches for my girls and before they leave for work/school so he won't track his special icing through the house. Good times. Had a lot of good times lately...

Remind me to tell you about the night the smoke alarm chirped. I hate my dog. There's no shame in that.

stayathomebryan gets all the news he needs from the weather report

Sweet the sin, bitter the taste...

It happened in the kitchen.

At least, that's where I got caught...

As a sahd, food or rather preparation of food is one of my primary responsibilities. Breakfast, lunch and dinner, everyday, is what I do. I do not take this responsibility lightly.

Over the last several years, I have discovered and some may argue perfected(?) a few dishes that are staples of our families diet. After preparing the same dish a few hundred times, I get to work out how to make it just right. There are even several items that are on gotoworkJulie's list of favorites. These are my "go to" recipes when I think she needs cheering up, has been particularly busy at work, or I want to get something. For myself. Let's just say they are considered... special.

A couple of weeks ago, I was planning on attending a "pot luck" after an all day seminar. It would be sans family, as Julie had her own education to attend that day. I planned on making/taking potato salad. The recipe I discovered, a few years past, is always well received. As the date of the dinner was approaching, I bought all of my ingredients but I felt that maybe I should bring something else too. This is a group of people that, to be frank, I really like and want to endear myself to.

While shopping, I came upon avocados. Perfectly ripe. On sale. 98 cents apiece. Beckoning. I bought 5. I knew that I would have to prepare the dish under cover. Easy enough, I am home alone for hours most days. I actually felt sneaky as I chopped the garlic, onions, cilantro, jalapeno and mixed them together with the rest. Here I was, preparing something special, not for my family. I put the bowl in the fridge downstairs. Behind the 2 stacked Tupperware containers of potato salad. Just in case.

I came home after the seminar and pot luck and was emptying out the small cooler of my leftovers. GotoworkJulie was in the kitchen, telling me about her continuing education when she noticed me trying to surreptitiously slip the bowl from the cooler to the fridge. She stopped mid-sentence. "Did you make guacamole for the pot luck? I thought you were bringing potato salad." Lamely, I replied "Well... I just thought it would be nice..."

Uncomfortable silence.

Julie, with a hint of mistiness and a hushed tone, said "that's... that's guacadultery."

There it is. It's out there now, isn't it?

stayathomebryan will be receiving 4 to 6 hours of sensitivity training. Again.

I remember it like it was yesterday...

Today is our 9th wedding anniversary. Thank you very much! Our anniversary never goes by when I am not reminded of our first. Yes... I remember it like it was...

In March of that year I got the invitation, from my buddy Cliff, to go on a Hummer weekend. Now, don't get too excited. It wasn't that kind of hummer weekend. The dealership, where Cliff bought his General Motors Humvee H2, invited all of their customers for an outing, to TM Shooter's Ranch, in central Florida. We would be camping, trail driving, obstacle coursing, shooting clay pigeons, drinking, and bbqing. Yes, it was every bit the ultimate, good time guy weekend (someday, I may relate the story. It was truly awesome).

Now for some aftshadowing. Aftshadowing is when you get clues to future events, in a story, that should have been obvious... now that I look back at them. In the week before the event, Julie asked me "What time is this thing over on Sunday?" and "When do you think you'll be getting home?" Several times. And then some more. My answer was always "How the hell should I know? I'm just along for the ride." and "Honey, this is something that is much bigger than just me. I'll be home when I get home." I remember saying something like "Why? Do you have plans or something?" She just answered "Nothing in particular. I just wanted to know..."

At some point, on Sunday afternoon, I walked into our townhouse after being dropped off by Cliff. I was carrying a sleeping bag, wearing a backpack, skateboard helmet, mud-stained clothing and smelling of beer, gun powder, bacon and manliness. I was pretty pleased with myself. Upon entering the kitchen, I encountered Julie with tear-swollen eyes and a very, very disappointed expression. "What's wrong, baby?" was coming out of my mouth as my eyes surveyed the kitchen counter. There was a bowl filled with chocolate covered strawberries, champagne in an ice bucket, a bouquet of roses and a greeting card with my name neatly penned on the front. Julie said "Happy Anniversary, Bryan..."

I may not be the only one to have forgotten our anniversary, but I was the first.

stayathomebryan has learned to read a calender... and take a hint.

*Bleeping* with the enemy

I hate the term "networking". It sounds WAY to businessy and pretentious to apply to stay-at-home dadism. Unfortunately, it really is the best word to describe what you need to do, to maintain your sanity and socialize your kid, before they are old enough to enter school. You gotta "network"(shudder, vomit)...

This means that you have to make friends with moms. They are about all you're going to find out there. You are probably the only sahd in the neighborhood or even town/city/county possibly state. This means that none of your new friends will care about beer, football, the UFC, lawn care, beer, your sex life, South Park, pick-up trucks, beer, your former life as SupposedStud, beer... Yes, it is true, you are alone. Fret not. I'd rather light a candle than curse your darkness.

Where the hell is my Zippo?

You've got to find, meet, and talk to the women(with kids the same age as yours) that you would normally never, ever find, meet or talk to otherwise. You say "Stayathomebryan, are you sure that I have to go through all that finding, meeting and talking? I would way rather stay at home to play video games, and gamble away our life savings trading stocks, while my kid learns everything they will ever need to know from the Wiggles". Of course you would. We both know you have nothing in common with these women... except for the kids! Well that, and the fact that you are housebound, and bored, and worried that you are doing the right thing, and wondering whatonearth am I going to make for dinner, and why did my kid crap on the floor, and why doesn't my kid talk to other kids, and why has my spouse been so surly lately, and jesus christ I am getting fat, and on and on and on...

Oh, amazingly you have a lot in common with these women and hopefully this realization will help you start "networking". Listen to me now and believe me later, your kid NEEDS to be exposed to the world, and other kids their own age, in as many ways as you can think up. You need to interact with poly-syllabic human beings, on a daily basis, to keep your brain from becoming oatmeal. Luckily there are more options than you now realize.

Contact the Parents as Teachers program at your local school system. I met some great moms and kids there, who became the foundation of a great play group, that lasted for years. P.A.T.s was the first structured, school-like, setting Amelia participated in. Our local YMCA has a free toddler time, several mornings a week, that we went to regularly. They allowed preschool kids to ride bikes, trikes, scooters, skates and strollers on their skating rink. It is the largest(relatively safe) toddler free-for-all anywhere. There are at least 5 parks, with playgrounds, within 3 miles of our home, that we went to all the time. That is just the beginning. I hunted out interesting and fun places, to bring Amelia to, and soon started meeting stay at home moms.

After you have been seen at these places, on a regular basis, moms begin to accept that you aren't some kind of predator and will talk to you. I guess they crave adult conversation, too. You'll be amazed at how you are considered an oddity, once they find out that you are an sahd by choice, and not because you can't find a job. After they overcome their sub-conscious prejudices, and find out you have no interest in hitting on them, you may actually become... friends(?). I know. Sounds weird.

Stay at home moms have a hard time not dispensing advice or offering help, to a sahd, whenever the slightest opportunity presents itself. "I put Petunia on a wheat/hormone/gluten-free diet and her attitude/sleep/stool has improved markedly..." when obnoxia-organa-mom sees you feed your kid some Cheetos. Resist the urge to defend yourself and realize this may be one of the "open doors" you need, to help your kid make a friend, and for you to network with someone who walks a mile in your shoes everyday. Even if you don't start a playgroup together, you may be surprised at how many times you run into Petunia/mom over the next few years. A bloody tongue now may pay off big when Petunia's mom is your kid's 3rd grade teacher... or something...

stayathomebryan is pretty good at *bleeping*.

Going Feral (read:foul)

On monday afternoon I realized that I haven't had a shower since friday morning. I know. I'm going to let that sink in a little bit. I can't believe that I am confessing to such utter grossness but, there it is.

I usually don't go that long and I am completely aware that I -well others around me- suffer from a pronounced ripeness that often comes on, even within minutes, of my having bathed. How can I go three whole days? Wtf am I thinking? Even I don't really know...

My wife and I are typically morning people. By morning people I mean that the morning is the only time there is going to be any "business", if there is going to be any had. By the time the night is here, we are both pretty much ready for sleep and I have been recently made aware(warned, scolded, threatened) that late, late night/early, early morning cuddling is not to be taken as "presenting", as I have mistakenly thought. In the past. Not any more.

Sunday morning, when she doesn't have to work and we don't have to get the kid ready for school, is generally... open season. This last sunday morning, when the faint light of the early day signaled that business may be at hand, I had a faint hint of self-awareness, just as I snuggled up close. 'when was the last time I showered... or shaved' went tickling through my sleep addled mind. 'maybe she won't notice...' was next, when we were both jolted awake by "Mommy" being called from the other end of the house.

My wife was once again saved from another assault on her senses and sensibilities. I know that I am responsible for basic grooming. I know... I know... I know... I am truly, completely, utterly, fantastically amazed that my wife still has sex with me. I truly am.

stayathomebryan will have the full silkwood, thank you