Big Trouble

I know I have mentioned major steps in Reese's development before (Game Changer), but this is a little different. This is more of a realization that I have my hands full, or at least will have my hands full (VERY full) in the near future.

The other day I was in the kitchen standing next to the refrigerator and Ripken was lying next to my feet. Reese was watching Yo Gabba Gabba or Sesame Street or some other show. Or at least she was watching the show initially, because I noticed she had started to walk into the kitchen and right toward Ripken. As I watched her, Ripken noticed her, too, and he would look at her, then look at me. Reese only stared at Ripken and, in the awkward toddler way of walking, tried to creep quietly and secretly toward the dog. Ripken had his eyes on her, though, and then would look to me as if to say, "What is she planning on doing to me? Please save me!" It was actually quite amusing to see a 2-year-old attempt to sneak up on a dog that is looking straight at her.

When she got just in front of me and about an arm's length away from Ripken, Reese suddenly turned to me and said, "Boo!"

I was surprised. Not surprised insomuch that I jumped or was startled. But I was surprised because not once did she give any sort of indication she paid any attention to me.

I am no child psychologist and I have never taken any early childhood development courses, but it seems to me the behaviour she exhibited shows an incredible amount of intelligence. She tried to trick me. She tried to make me think she was after the dog. She tried to manipulate my train of thought. And she did more than try. She succeeded!

Last night at dinner Reese started playing with her food. Amy was scolding her, but Reese kept on playing with her food. Amy took away her food and tried to make sure Reese understood playing with food was not acceptable behaviour at the dinner table. Reese kind of slumped her shoulders as most people do when getting into trouble, but she quickly sat up, opened her eyes wide, pointed to the center piece and exclaimed, "Flowers!"

Now it is entirely possible Reese was suddenly happy to see flowers in the middle of the table, even though they were there all day (two days, actually). But it sure did seem to me (and Amy) Reese was trying to distract mom from discipline her. Reese was using the distraction trick we had been using on her! (Lessons I've Learned So Far)

Again, this sort of behavior shows (at least to me) an advanced way of thinking (at least for a 2-year-old). For her to use distraction, it shows she thinks she can get into the way Amy and I are thinking. She thinks flowers are so exciting to us, we will forget at her playing with food. Trying to guess other people's emotions is called empathy, and it is something some adults have trouble with. But here is a toddler attempting to gauge our emotional response to flowers.

Amy and I are in big trouble, because if 2-year-old Reese is already successfully manipulating my reactions and unsuccessfully distracting us from her getting into trouble, what can we expect when she is a teenager?

I shudder at the thought.

Stationery card

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Greatest achievement

I am a fan of trivia. I get it from my dad. We sometimes call my dad Cliffy Clavin, a reference to the know-it-all postman from the '80s sitcom "Cheers."

I get a trivia question e-mailed to me every morning. Sometimes they are easy, sometimes hard, and they cover all types of categories. The one yesterday was fairly easy - Which president bought the Louisiana Purchase - and the answer page had a sentence or two about the question. The answer page yesterday said the Louisiana Purchase was Thomas Jefferson's greatest achievement as president. It's hard to argue that statement considering it more than doubled the size of the USA for about $15 million and something close to 10 cents an acre.

I asked my dad, who was a history teacher besides being a trivia buff, what he thought the greatest achievement of the United States was. He was stumped. He said he would think about it and get back to me with an answer.

There are many things America could hang it's hat on - The Constitution, Declaration of Independence, Civil War, Emancipation Proclamation, Panama Canal, Normandy Invasion, leading country and host of United Nations, etc. All of those are worthy achievements to be considered, even though the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution were technically achievements before we became a nation.

When Amy came home from work, I posed the question to her. She waited just second and then asked me, "What is your greatest achievement?"

Right away I answered, "Marrying you and having Reese."

And it's true. Those are the things I am most proud of in my life.

There are other things I am also quite proud of, too, like becoming a professional journalist at 19 years old; getting a job (StreetZebra) without any type of connection or networking; being out of football for 17 years and then not only making the Portland Raiders, but starting at center, getting invited to the All Star game and being named second-team all-league; and, of course, beating cancer. I told Amy that I am most proud of my attitude during the cancer episode, because I mostly laid back and let the doctors and nurses and needle and drugs beat cancer. She said I need to give myself more credit. I am, indeed, very proud of my attitude, but I do not think I could have had that attitude (or, at least, I do not think I could maintain that attitude) for the duration of my fight.

I flipped the question back to her.

"What is your greatest achievement?"

She said her husband and daughter.

She then went on to describe other things she is proud of, and I think the one that most impresses me is she packed up her entire life and moved from Washington D.C. to San Francisco when she was 24. Moving anywhere is quite an ordeal, but moving cross-country, where you know no one? That's got to be scary. But she did it, re-invented herself, and emerged a successful woman. I think that's greater than anything I've done.

And I'm pretty sure she drove the whole distance, too.

Which kind of ties into what my dad later said was the greatest achievement of the United States.

Transcontinental railroad.

Vampire, pirate or mermaid?

Amy had a work dinner last week and asked me an interesting question when she got home.

"Would you rather be a vampire, a pirate or a merman?"

Apparently it was a question someone threw out during the dinner.

As she works in the financial world, it was easy to predict the majority of her co-workers chose pirate. A pirate, at least in the romanticized views of Hollywood, leads a very exciting life of adventure. Who wouldn't want to chase after gold, drink rum until you can't see straight and socialize with women of ill repute? But pirate life was not what Captain Jack Sparrow (or even Treasure Island) portray it to be.

The fact is, being a pirate was a pretty nasty existence. You were poor. Like, real poor. You did bad things. Like, REAL bad things. (There are stories of pirates torturing governors of cities while his family looked on; and also torturing the family while the governor looked on.) But even if one decided to be a "good" pirate, you were still stealing from others. Maybe you could try to justify it by saying it is just like Robin Hood, but in a different location, but I could retort that it's just like the Taliban, but in a different location. And even if you were the only pirate on the boat who did not pillage and kill, your closest associates WOULD pillage and kill, making you an accessory to their crimes! (I guess if you did not pillage and kill, you could someday have a Gilbert and Sullivan play written about your life as a pirate king, but that would be a long shot.) So being a pirate generally meant you were going to be a bad person, or, at the very least, be associated with very bad people.

Being a vampire would be just as bad, probably worse, than being a pirate. Vampires are, literally, monsters. Piracy, on the other hand, is a merely profession, albeit a pretty nasty profession. Being a vampire may sound appealing (if you're a 14-year-old girl), but living forever really would be depressing. Sure, you could learn to play every single instrument in an orchestra, and learn every language in the world, and read the entire Library of Congress, but every single person you meet will die, even you are not the one to kill them. Not surprising, my wife and the only other female at that dinner chose vampire as their answers.

Me, I did not hesitate to say merman. Unlike the other two, being a merman or mermaid does not come with inherent evil issues (steal, torture, kill, drink blood, glitter in sunlight, etc.). A mer-creature is just another living being. You can choose to be good or bad. A mer-creature is not weighed down with the urge to drink blood, or sworn to burn down an entire seaport. As a merman, I could swim to a my mer-job, make my mer-money, and go home to my mer-family. What's not to like about that?

Hiatus

I realize it has been longer than a month since my last post.

Please forgive the extended hiatus. It was unintentional. No real good reason for the lay-off. There may be a lot of reasons, but none of them are real good.

The fact of the matter is I have had a pretty rough month or so.

It started with getting news that a man I played flag football with on Sunday mornings died at work. I did not know him exceptionally well, only the few hours each Sunday during the fall and winter when a handful of guys (and some girls, too) would meet at a grassy park and throw the football around. All told, I may have had a total of 180 hours with him, but he left an impression on me. I had talked with Amy about the group of guys I played flag football with and we had agreed it would be nice to have Curtis and his family over for dinner or lunch or something some time. But I never got around to asking him. His death really did hit me hard. It might be because he had a family (a son and two daughters). It might be because he was young and in shape (he was like Brett Favre at quarterback, throwing fastballs into double coverage and making broken plays somehow fixed; plus, he was a beast at linebacker). Or it might be because I don't have a lot of close male friends in this area, and he was one of the few I respected.

Shortly after the news of Curtis' death, Reese got sick. Like REAL sick. It was a Sunday night and Reese went to bed without too much hassle. She woke up before midnight coughing, so I went to her room and lay down on her floor to comfort her. Her coughing stopped and she was asleep in less than 10 minutes, but Ripken woke up and was whining. I left Reese's room and took the dog downstairs and let him out in the backyard, but he was still whinny. I was frustrated, so I just left the backdoor open and sat down on the couch and flipped on the TV to pass the time until Ripken chilled out. Reese would intermittently cough and whine for a few seconds, but would be quiet quickly thereafter and remain asleep (or at least silent) for 10 to 15 minutes before coughing again. Ripken had just settled down and had stopped whining and I was getting ready to bring him back up to bed (he sleeps in our room) when Reese started to cough again. Then I heard splashing. Then she started to really cry. I rushed up to her room as Amy was waking up from the crying. Reese had thrown up all over her floor (she has slept in her bed twice since we converted it from the crib, so she sleeps on her floor. Amy and I think she sleeps on the floor because she is a very active sleeper, rolling around a lot, and she fell off the bed the first night after we converted it.) The vomit was in her lap. The vomit was in her hair. The vomit was on the carpet. The vomit was on her blankets. I snatched Reese up and carried her to the guest bathroom and set her down in the bathtub. I stripped her and turned on the water. Amy came in and took over with the bath as I tackled the mess in the bedroom. We have a SpotVac that we used for accidents from the dog, but it was enlisted for a different dirty job that night. I started a load of laundry and continued my efforts in her room. Amy finished Reese's bath and got her new pajamas and took her into our bed. Then Reese vomited again. I stripped our bed and Amy took Reese into the guest bedroom. I was just finishing up cleaning Reese's room when she vomited in the guest bed. Amy had an important meeting at work first thing Monday morning and she needed to get to bed (it was approaching 2 a.m.), so she got some sheets, tossed them on our bed and tried to sleep. I got a bowl from the kitchen, a bunch of towels and had Reese in the guest bed. She threw up a couple more times, but she was done by 5:30 or so. She had diarrhea in the morning, but was relatively fine the rest of the day (I was a walking zombie, though). Reese was a little warm and obviously tired, but overall she recovered quickly. But when we put her to sleep Monday night, she threw up again. This time it wasn't as bad, and we didn't need to clean everything because she was on a bunch of towels, blankets and other easily washable sheets.

It was also that week that she was sick that a friend of mine had died from a form of brain cancer called Glioblatoma multiforme. That news hit me harder than the news of Curtis's death because I had worked with her at Disneyland. Catou, which is a German form of Catherine, was young and beautiful and successful and athletic, but she had been suffering and battling this cancer for two years. Her parents would send out email updates regarding her fight, but the last few updates seemed to show that the end was near as Catou would be awake and alert less and less and her appetite was going away. I am thankful to her parents for the updates, but it was also sometimes hard to read. But every update added that Catou was in good spirits and not in pain. Still, it was incredibly sad to hear that parents were about to bury their daughter, and maybe that is another reason her death hit me so hard.

The next week, I came down with a nasty cold which zapped whatever remaining strength if I was a zombie before, I don't know how to describe what I was with that cold. A lot of orange juice later, and the cold subsided, but on Monday I woke up with the worst back pain I had felt since 2000. Most of you probably know, but for those of you who do not, I was diagnosed with testicular cancer on May 1, 2000. But I did not go to the doctor because of any "cancer-related issues," whatever the hell that means. I went to the doctor because I had incredible back pain. I had the back pain for about a month. I did not do anything significant that would have caused the back pain - I was not moving furniture, I was not lifting boxes of books, I was not tipping cows over in the middle of the night. My back pain was unbelievable. I could not stand, I could not sit, I could not lie down. I was taking 15 to 20 anti-inflammatories a day, and yet the back pain persisted. Why did I wait so long to go to the doctor? Well, I was 24 at the time and wildly optimistic and reasoned I pulled a muscle. Second, I did not have a whole lot of money. And third, and most important, the magazine I was working for did not give me insurance. Yet. I received insurance and went into the doctor the next day. The doctor took an x-ray of my chest to see if he could see anything wrong with my back. He instantly saw a tumor in my chest pushing on my lungs and saw my lymph nodes were swollen and pressing on my spinal column. Not fun. So when I had major back pain again, my mind thought of cancer. The death of my good friend due to brain cancer probably had a major reason I thought of my past issue because I have had back pain in the past and never thought about cancer. My back pain this time was so severe, Amy came home for lunch, saw me efforting to do regular house work and called in to her supervisor and to say she had to stay home with me. I went to the doctor's office that afternoon, and then went to the hospital the next morning for a blood test (Amy had to stay home Tuesday morning for that, as well). The blood test came back perfect, so that was a relief. But I have been going to a chiropractor and message therapist weekly ever since.

Halloween was OK, except that it was on Monday night. Not that Monday night Halloween is anything horrible. But the San Diego Chargers were playing that night, and I really wanted to watch the game. It was hard to pay attention when the doorbell kept ringing every 30 seconds, but seeing Reese hand out candy and then ending with, "Ba-bye. Thank you." She was not scared or timid even if the costumes were more mature and bloody. She was happy and excited to meet the trick-or-treaters at the door.

Reese's two-year birthday was low-key, just the three of us at home. We used Skype to talk with grandparents as she opened some presents. I made a cake to look like Sesame Street's new central character Elmo. I wasn't too sure it actually looked like Elmo, but when I showed it to Reese, she immediately said, "Elmo!" That was all of the confirmation any chef could ask for! Two days later, we flew done to Long Beach. Saturday was her birthday party at my sister's house, complete with a Sesame Street bounce house. A handful of my closest friends and their families came to help celebrate, and I think everyone had a blast. The next morning, Amy and I drove up to Santa Barbara to have lunch with one of Amy's friends. We then drove up the California coast to spend four days and three nights in the Carmel/Monterrey/Big Sur area for our fifth wedding anniversary. We drove back Wednesday morning, and hit some hellish traffic on the way back. What should have been about a six hour drive back was about a nine hour drive back. Actually, it was more of a four hour drive and then a four hour crawl. Santa Barbara is only about five total exits on the freeway, and it took us an hour to go from one end to the other. Thanksgiving was back at my sister's house with all of my family and my brother-in-law's family. The next day we went to my other sister's house and let the cousins play together one last time. The weather was phenomenal - bright, clear, sunny. The weather - and the way Reese played with her cousins - made it difficult to leave the next morning, but we had a plane to catch. Arriving in Portland, the weather certainly made it feel like November and autumn, but it didn't feel like home.

The Other F Word

It was just about two weeks ago that I wrote about the dilema of raising Reese for an appreciation of punk rock music and the ethos of "Fuck Authority." (Click here to re-visit that amazing piece of writing)

Well, it turns out there is going to be a documentary coving that exact topic. Instead of interviewing boring subjects like myself, the movie asks how it feels to move from punk rocker to dad for actual punk rockers. (The movie's website says people interviewed played: Black Flag, Pennywise, NoFX, Bad Religion, The Vandals, Rancid, DEVO, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Adolescents, Everclear, Total Chaos, T.S.O.L., Circle Jerks, blink 182, Bouncing Souls, Rise Against, and US Bombs, along with professional skateboarding icon Tony Hawk and professional BMX rider Rick Thorne.)

I was super excited to see this movie, but now I see that it is in limited release (VERY limited release, as in, like 17 theaters). I guess the only way I get to see it is take a vacation to one of the cities the weekend it's playing (San Francisco? Seattle? San Diego? Berkeley? Los Angeles?) or sign up for NetFlix and wait for it to come out on DVD.

You would think there would be a pretty sizable audience for a movie like this in the greater Portland area. Portland does have a pretty big anti-authoritarian groove to it. But that groove is more geared toward hippies than punkers. And about the only thing punkers dislike more than being told what to do is smelly hippies. (Seriously. It's called soap and water, hippy. Use it!)

But if you do live in one of the select cities where this is showing, go see it and tell me how it is. Also, it has a pretty cool title: The Other F Word.

Hurt birds

When I was in college, I dated a girl a little bit older than me in age, but she seemed a little bit younger than me in terms of emotional age.

Let me explain...

First, she was a cheer coach at her old high school. She was a cheerleader in high school and started coaching cheer while a senior there. She did not understand why I didn't start coaching football. While coaching football is not a bad fit for me, at the time I was 19. I did not have a teaching degree or a substitute teaching credential or anything close to that. But she didn't understand why I couldn't have helped coach while I was still in high school. I tried to explain that coaching high school football was not the same as coaching high school cheerleading, but she didn't get it. I have nothing against cheer or cheer coaches (my sister was a cheerleader and I have a track record of dating cheerleaders), but football is close to a 24-7 job, and it is a job highly sought after. Coaches generally are also employed at the schools they lead. Some are teachers, but others work in security or janitorial work. But either way, schools aren't looking for 19-year-olds, let alone a senior at that school.

This girlfriend and I worked together at the time we dated. This job had quite a bit of downtime between actual work time, so all of the employees congregated together during breaks. Someone (I don't know who) had a little book that came up with scenarios that prodded philosophical answers. I thought it was really cool, and this girlfriend bought it for me as a gift. Nice gesture, but it was the downfall of our relationship.

This girlfriend and I tended to differ on our answers, which is not a bad thing. Amy and I are quite different and sometimes look at things in polar opposite directions. But Amy and I also have quite a bit in common. This girlfriend, though, would take my differing view as some sort of insult to her opinion.

The final straw that eventually led to our breakup was a question from the book and how I apparently am I cruel and heartless bastard.

The book scenario was something along the lines of: You are late for work and while leaving your front door, you see a bird with a broken wing in your lawn. What do you do?

 I said I would go to work and possibly call animal control once I get to the office (assuming I had an office at this mysterious mythical job). She was appalled. Pretty sure she said she could not be with someone who would be so mean to the poor defenseless bird. She would get a shoe box, line it with a silk pillow and gently nurse the bird back to health. She did not add, but it was implied, that CPR would be administered whether or not it was needed.

I tried to defend my stance by slipping in the caveat that if I was not running late to work, or if it was a weekend (because this mysterious mythical job was obviously a 9 to 5, Monday thru Friday gig) I would do whatever I could for the grounded bird.

Didn't matter.

I tried to reason that I was no veterinarian, and me trying to heal the bird would likely cause irreversible damage.

Didn't matter.

I tried to argue that the bird could very well pass on some unknown disease to me (this was at least a decade before the bird flu invaded our vernacular).

Didn't matter.

The only answer was to drop everything and care for the bird.

Apparently I was a monster for failing to understand that.

We didn't stay together much longer after this disagreement.

I bring this up because I hope Reese A) does not see me as a monster, and B) respects people who disagree with her.

Going for the bronze

Wednesday's thrilling conclusion to the baseball regular season was pure heart break for members of the Red Sox Nation, of which my family and I belong.

But I am relatively new to the fan club, having only started cheering for Boston once Nome Garciaparra joined them at the end of the 1996 season. My wife and in-laws, however, have suffered their whole lives as Massachusetts natives. The 1986 ball-gets-past-Buckner World Series is merely a highlight for me. But every time it is replayed, it is lemon juice on a paper cut for my wife and in-laws.

The chronicle of pain associated with Red Sox fans is well documented, but the 2004 and 2007 World Series titles erased memories of misery. Those titles breathed happiness (and some would say conceit) into long-suffering fans.

Wednesday's loss (actually, the last month of futility) was a brutal reminder to Red Sox fans what life was like before Theo Epstein arrived as general manager after the 2002 season.

If we were to push Reese to join the Red Sox Nation, some would argue that is grounds for Protective Services to investigate child abuse. I mean, it does mean we are exposing her to a lifetime of heartbreak.

The alternative is for her to be a San Diego Padre fan. The biggest thrill for Padre fans is seeing former players find success with other teams (Ozzie Smith, Benito Santiago, Roberto Alomar, Fred McGriff, Joe Carter, etc.).

Padre fans know the season is basically over by June. Red Sox fans wait until September.

Padre fans are happy to finish above .500. Red Sox fans aren't happy unless they are in the World Series.

Padre fans are fine with five playoff berths in 43 years of existence. Red Sox fans are disappointed with six World Series crowns (seven if you count the 1903 Boston Americans title).

I had a professor in college who said the happiest person on the Olympic medal stand is the bronze medal winner. The gold medalist was always confident in victory, and possibly wished for an even better performance. The silver medalist is disappointed he/she did not get the gold, sometimes missing out on the top spot by fractions of a second. But the bronze winner is elated to have won anything at all!

In this analogy, Red Sox fans are perpetually the silver medalist - always looking at what they don't have, upset at the success of others. Padre fans, however, are bronze medalists - elated with any type of victory, no matter how small.

While Fenway Park is amazing, and seeing Red Sox fans everywhere is comforting, I would rather Reese appreciate any and all success then grumble about what she does have and pine away at what could have been.

Impressing strangers

Yeah, I know.  It's been awhile since I've written a post about Reese, life, religion, something NOT football. I get a little excited when football season starts.

Reese is growing up quickly, it seems. Every day is another eye-opening achievement. Yesterday she said, "I love you" more clearly than she has ever said it before. She repeated it this morning to Amy as she went to work and again to Grandpa over the phone. There was no need to try to decipher what she said. It was clearly, "I love you."

She is able to jump, getting both feet off of the ground. And she sometimes lands on both feet when she comes down. Sometimes. She really enjoys jumping up, stretching her legs out in front of her while in the air, then landing on her rear and thighs and legs. She thinks it's fantastic. I must confess that I think it's pretty awesome as well.

Reese loves to climb. The other day Amy found her halfway up the back door, holding herself up by the  door handles. She pushed her high chair to the kitchen island, climbed into the high chair, stood on the high chair and grabbed a pen from the middle of the kitchen island. obviously reprimanded her for putting herself in such a dangerous situation, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't impressed. It was some nice engineering for a toddler.

I am getting a little worried Reese is becoming addicted to my iPhone. I truly think she may be on it more than I am. OK, well that's not true, but she does play with it often. She knows how to unlock the phone to turn it on. She knows how to scroll to different pages. She knows where the games are she can play. She knows how to open the games and knows how to play the games. I wonder if some social scientist somewhere has given  a chimpanzee an iPad filled with ape-friendly games and study how quickly the animal understands how to use the tablet. Am I saying Reese is smarter than a chimp? I'm saying she's smarter than most humans!

But Reese is still as cute as ever. I am convinced she is the highlight of other people's days (she is obviously the highlight of my day!). Last weekend, Amy, Reese and I went out to diner in Portland. After dinner we walked about five or six blocks to grab dessert. It was the last nice night Portland was likely to see until possibly Easter, so there were quite a few patrons eating outside while our little family strolled the sidewalk. You could see dates stop their conversation, look at us, smile and then nod to each other. When we walked back after dessert, most of the same people were still outside soaking up as much Vitamin D while it was available for free. Again, they would stop and look and smile. One lady stopped us to repeatedly tell us how cute she thought Reese was. While it got a little creepy, she was sincere. I could envision her the next day on the phone with a friend of family member saying, "Yeah, John and I went out to dinner last night. The food was good and it was great weather, but you should have seen this little girl walking past us! Oh, you would just die! She was the cutest thing I have EVER seen! Oh my goodness, she was just soo adorable!" It's nice to know Reese is making good first impressions on strangers.

Predictable results, new game

Last Week: 3-0
Season: 6-3


PREDICTION: LSU -3.5 over Miss. St.  RESULT: LSU 19 Miss St 6
This was a close game, but a 10-point fourth quarter by the Tigers put the game away.

PREDICTION: E. Mich + 28.5 against Mich.  RESULT: E. Mich 3 Mich 31
Thankfully the Wolverines final drive stalled and Michigan kicked a field goal, or else this would have been a loss. Also, thank goodness for those half-points!

PREDICTION: Chargers/Patriots over 53  RESULT: SD 21 NE 35
San Diego had three consecutive first-half-drives into the 30-yard-line, but came away with zero points. It looked like New England would be able to just sit on the ball and force the under. But Philip Rivers and the Bolts got their act together in the second half (14 fourth-quarter-points) to push the point total to 56.


Since I am a little late in making predictions, that means no college games on the docket for me. Oh well. I'm OK with nothing but NFL, are you? Plus, I will introduce a new game at the end of this entry that everyone can participate in. Should be fun.

CAROLINA -3.5 over Jacksonville
Cam Newton has been the surprise of the season so far. He has more passing yards (854) than Philip Rivers (713) and Drew Brees (689). Only Tom Brady (940) has more passing yards than the rookie from Auburn. But Newton and the Panthers have zero wins to show for all of those yards. So why will Carolina finally win a game? Because the Jaguars are on the road and Blaine Gabbert is making his first NFL start. While Gabbert could have a Newton-esque performance in his first full game (Newton threw for 422 yards with 2 TDs in Week 1 against Arizona, a game the Panthers had a chance to win that game in the final seconds), the Panthers have better supporting cast surrounding Newton than Gabbert has around him.

NEW ENGLAND -10.5 at Buffalo
The Patriots have a chance to go 3-0. Yawn. The Bills have a chance to go 3-0. Whaaa....!?!?!? But before Chris Berman does his "Nobody circles the wagons like the Buffalo Bills," realize the Patriots are for real. Or, as my niece would say, for real for reals. The Bills? They beat an abysmal Kansas City squad and squeaked out a last second victory over an average Oakland team. The Patriots are the Patriots. Buffalo and Ryan "They Call Me Fitz" Fitzpatrick are a great feel-good story, but Tom Terrific is leading a team that honestly has a chance to go 16-0. Again.

CINCINNATI pick 'em over San Francisco
Cam Newton is the headlining surprise rookie of 2011, but Cincinnati's Andy Dalton has more passing yards and TDs (413, 3) than the 49ers Alex Smith (303, 2). San Francisco played hard against Dallas, but 13 unanswered points by the Cowboys sealed the deal. It's not as if the Bengals were brilliant in their loss against Denver last week, but I think you go with the team who fell short of a comeback as opposed to the team who allowed a comeback. Especially if the come-from-behind team is playing at home.


And Now For Something Completely Different
My dream job, as long as I can remember was to be a sports broadcaster (actually, I think the first job I wanted as a kid was to be a zoologist, but then I realized I had to take a LOT of science classes and decided against it). Growing up in the Los Angeles television market meant I had the privilege of listening to and watching some of the best of all time (Chick Hearn with the Lakers; Vin Scully with the Dodgers; Bob Miller with the Kings). I also read LA Times legend Jim Murray, so there is no surprise I went into sports journalism.

As a sports fan in general, and someone who wanted to be a sportscaster, I watch and listen to what the announcers say. There are some I really enjoy (Charles Davis and Gus Johnson pop to mind right away), but a lot of the time I cringe with the cliches and the obvious observations.

For the two nationally televised NFL games (Sunday and Monday nights), I will post a list of phrases and cliches to listen for; some are always on the docket, others are game-to-game decisions. You can do whatever you would like when you hear/see the cliches/phrases, but I suggest a  drink of whatever beverage you are enjoying (the New England Patriots public relations department would insist I am talking about drinking water).

STEELERS AT COLTS
Drink for any mention of:
*Steel Curtain
*former Pittsburgh players of the 1970s
*Bill Cowher
*Johnny Unitis
*Andrew Luck
*"Big Ben"
*video of Roethlesberger's stiff arm against Terrell Suggs

REDSKINS AT COWBOYS
*any mention of Rex Grossman as a Super Bowl starting quarterback
*comparing Tony Romo to Bret Favre
*Drew Bledsoe and Tom Brady
*Wally Pipp and Lou Gehrig
*Announcers are in awe of Dallas stadium, specifically the JumboTron

BOTH GAMES
*every time an announcer says a team/player is the best at something, or one of the best at something ( i.e. "Nobody throws a prettier swing pass to the running back than Romo.")
*saying "National Football League" instead of NFL
*"This is a must-win game."
*"They really need to score on this drive."
*Announcer says the wrong player/wrong number but you know the correct player/number
*Total flub on telestrator (i.e. circles the left defensive end, when it was the outside linebacker stunting inside to make the tackle)
*A key to the game that is the key to game for every team that has every played football from Pop Warner to the Pros (establish the running game, contain the star player on the other team, put up points)

Please drink responsibly, do not drink and drive, and please tip your servers.

Punk Rock dad

There are a lot of fears a father feels: am I a positive influence; do I let my daughter watch too much TV; does my daughter eat enough vegetables?

But I have been feeling a little guilty about something recently.

Reese likes listening to punk rock music.

When we get in the car and I pop in a CD, chances are it's NoFX, Pennywise, Dropkick Murphys or some other kickass group I like to shout along with and/or car dance to. And I can peek in the rear view mirror and see Reese is enjoying it as well.

Punk rock music has made a big impression on me, but it didn't really enter my music rotation until high school and then really took over in college. Punk rock has an overriding message of: Question authority, do it yourself!

While that is a perfectly reasonable and expected attitude for teenagers and/or young adults standing on their own two feet for the first time (figuratively), it is problematic for a toddler learning to stand on their own two feet (literally).

I want Reese to be an individual and believe in herself and question authority, but not now. Not when I am her authority. She should wait at least until preschool. Don't rebel when you still need someone to change your diapers. It could get messy (figuratively AND literally).

There is nothing inherently bad or wrong with Reese bopping around to beats and guitar riffs by Social Distortion or Bouncing Souls or the Vandals, but she may be a little too young to subscribe to the ideas in the lyrics. Do I really want Reese to point at someone in the grocery store and ask, "Daddy, does he have an Ape Drape?" Um...yeah, I guess I'd be OK with that one, but there other questions I probably would not want.

Reese does pick up and understand everything Amy and I say (if it isn't everything, it sure is the majority of what we say). But can she hear and understand what Fat Mike or Mike Ness or Tim Armstrong belt out? Sometimes I need to look up the lyrics to understand them.

It won't be too long until Reese looks at Rancid, Voodoo Glow Skulls and Bad Religion like I look at Elvis, the Rolling Stones and the Who - bands who once considered controversial but I now view as tame.

But no matter what type of music Reese listens to (or shows she watches or friends she hangs out with), she needs to know and understand that I am her parent, an authority she is not allowed to defy.

At least until she's old enough to change her own diapers.

Quick betting update

I will be brief in my summation of my NFL predictions: it's a good thing I'm not a betting man.

That was both brutal and humiliating.

Buffalo destroyed Kansas City, and while Jamaal Charles had an OK day (in one of my Fantasy Football leagues he had 14 points and 12.5 in the other) he scored about half of what the best FF RB netted (San Diego's Mike Tolbert, 35 and 31).

Atlanta made it look like the 1985 Bears were on the field for Chicago. My most disliked athlete of all time actually matched the Falcons' Matt Ryan throw for throw and yard for yard, which was more unbelievable to me than the actual scoreboard. I guess there was a reason Chicago made it to the NFC Championship game last season, huh?

My only correct prediction was the Cardinals beating the Panthers, but even that had a good chance of falling short as Cam Newton showed he does, in fact, have plenty of steak to go with that sizzle.

As for this week's games...

LSU by 3.5 over Miss St
I think the Tigers are national title contenders and will dominate this game.

Eastern Michigan plus 28.5 against Michigan
That Notre Dame contest was pretty exciting, but I don't have faith in the Wolverines to blow anyone out by 4 TDs.

Chargers and Patriots score more than 53 points combined
Philip Rivers and Tom Brady will put on an aerial show to rival Fleet Week in San Francisco. This should be a fun game to watch!

NCAA weekend: 2-1; NFL weekend preview

The first week of college football is behind us and I am left with an indelible impression so far: Oregon has disrupted the college landscape.

This has nothing to do with the no-huddle, spread formation utilized by head coach Chip Kelly (especially considering the Ducks were using the spread before Kelly took over the reigns from Mike Bellotti, and also considering the spread formation has been around for decades.) The University of Oregon has changed college football with its uniforms (read this article by Michael Kruse for a good background). The Ducks have shown that any public relations regarding your uniforms is good public relations for your football program.

As recently as 1990, if you mentioned the powerful U of O sports program, most people would assume you were talking about track and field or cross country. Oregon is not rich in football history, so the folks in Eugene need any sort of buzz possible to lure potential recruits. In the same vein, the University of Maryland is known as a basketball school, but Twitter, Facebook and every other social media outlet was overflowing Monday night with references to the Terrapin uniforms. Never mind the Terps were in the middle of one of the better games of the opening weekend. Those uniforms, based on the Maryland state flag, looked like a Jackson Pollock reject. But, as Oregon has shown, any talk about the football program is good.

The bigger sartorial head-scratcher was the University of Georgia. The Bulldogs have one of the more storied football traditions in the nation, but they ditched their beautifully understated uniforms (check out Herschel Walker in the "gray britches") for Nike Pro Combat ugliness (seriously ugly). At least Maryland won its game. The Bulldogs lost to equally-ugly uniformed Boise State, which brings me to last week's predictions:

PREDICTION: Boise State/Georgia over 51 FINAL: 56 points
I was a little worried when the Broncos scored in the fourth quarter to make it 35-14 (49 points) because if the Bulldogs failed to score, Boise State could just sit on the ball and run out the clock. Thankfully there was still 11 minutes left in the game, but Georgia scored right away to give me the over.

PREDICTION: Houston minus 3 over UCLA FINAL: HOU 38 UCLA 34
It looked like this one was in the bag as the Cougars was up 31-14 at the half. UCLA's 2-quarterback system was reduced to a 1-quarterback system as Kevin Prince left the game in the second quarter with a concussion. "Backup" QB Richard Brehaut almost had the storybook comeback, but UCLA kicker Kip Smith missed a field goal attempt and had a late point after attempt blocked. If either one of those kicks goes through the uprights, I loose this prediction. As it is, however, he missed them and I win.

PREDICTION: North Texas plus 13 1/2 against Florida International FINAL: FIU 41 UNT 16
The Mean Green were bullied by the Golden Panthers from get-go. I need a Coke and a smile after this loss.

By going 2-1, I expect a free lunch at Ruby's in Santa Monica from a Mr. Taylor Whitley.

THIS WEEK'S PREDICTIONS
There is no more difficult game to predict in football than Game 2 of a season. Was Week 1 an aberration or the real deal? It is so hard to know what is real and what is not from Week 1, that I will go ahead and skip NCAA altogether and just jump into NFL Week 1 games. You can call it a gutless move if you would like, but I prefer to call it smart.

Kansas City minus 7 against Buffalo
The Bills allowed a few inches shy of 170 yards per game on the ground last season, last in the NFL. The Chiefs ran a few inches shy of 165 yards per game, best in the NFL. It does not matter if Matt Cassel is on the sidelines eating ribs while resting his ribs, the Chiefs will run over Buffalo. As a side prediction, I think Jamaal Charles will have the best Fantasy Football running back numbers in Week 1. In addition, I prediction the sun will rise in the East and set in the West.

Atlanta plus 1 against Chicago
This is a game of contrasts: The Falcons potent offense (25.9 points per game, 5th best in NFL) against the stout Bear defense (17.9 pts/game, 4th best in NFL); the horrendous Chicago offense (289 yards/game, 30th in NFL) against the mediocre Atlanta defense (332.4 yards allowed/game, 16th in NFL). It is no secret my most disliked athlete in all of the sporting universe is Chicago quarterback Jay Cutler. Add in that Chicago has possibly the worst offensive line the NFL and I think the Falcons actually run away with this game.

Arizona minus 3 against Carolina
While the Cardinals are not a Super Bowl contender, they did improve their team with the addition of quarterback Kevin Kolb, tight end Todd Heap (who I think will be the second-best tight end in the NFC West behind San Francisco's Vernon Davis) and running back Chester Taylor. I also think defensive back Patrick Peterson will be the NFL Defensive Rookie of the Year. On the flip side, I don't think Carolina has done anything to improve itself, Cam Newton is more sizzle than steak, and new head coach Ron Rivera will soon wish he was back as the Chargers' defensive coordinator.

College Football Wednesday

There are two types of people in this world: NFL fans and NCAA fans. Well, that's not true (especially if you ask Ben Rumpson or Blondie and Tuco). But it seems that not a lot of people are true fanatics about college football and professional football. Maybe it is too hard to divide your loyalty when it comes to the gridiron.

Whatever the case, I am a die hard San Diego Charger fan. My heart is up for sale to the highest bidder when it comes to the BCS, though, kinda like scholarships in South Beach. That does not mean I do not enjoy student athletes. It's just that I prefer my football players to get paid out in the open.

I do like watching NCAA football, but I can just as easily root for Stanford and Cal, UCLA and USC all on the same weekend. I see no reason why I have to root for Michigan and against Ohio State. I will not, however, root for the Broncos, Chiefs or Raiders. Unless, of course, it somehow helps the Chargers with improved playoff positioning.

When I wrote for a Los Angeles-area web site and magazine, a co-worker and I would go to lunch every Thursday with a printout of the weekend college games and their betting lines. We would pick two games each and then one absolutely random one that would have to be a complete guess. The person with the winning record had lunch paid the next week.

As an ode to such a fantastic and memorable time in my life, I will attempt to duplicate the predictions every Wednesday and then review every Monday. I may or may not do the same with the NFL. More than likely "may not."

Houston is a 3-point favorite at home against UCLA. Growing up, I had a poster of Michigan, Notre Dame and UCLA football on my bedroom walls. I have always liked UCLA's colors and the 8-clap, but as my good friend @y2k8t (a former UCLA women's lacrosse star) posted on Twitter, "Indecision at QB is always a good sign, right? RT @UCLAAthletics: Prince to start vs Houston. But Bruins will use both QBs during game." The 2-back system worked fine for the Florida Gators with Tim Tebow and Chris Leak in 2006, but, sadly, neither Kevin Prince nor Richard Brehaut are Tebow. Take the Cougars and give up the points.

Boise State against Georgia in Atlanta with an over/under of 51. It seems a bit silly to say this game is being played at a "neutral site." It may not be at Sanford Stadium on the University of Georgia campus in Athens, but the Georgia Dome is less than a 2-hour drive East on I-85. But the Broncos should be used to this sort of "neutral site" business. They beat Virginia Tech in last year's season opener 33-30 at FedEx Field in Landover, MD, which is about a 5-hour drive from the Hokies' hometown of Blacksburg. So I don't think travel or fans will have much of an impact on the outcome. I think this will be a nail biter and I would bet both teams will put up points, so I would go with more than 51 points are scored.

Florida International favored by 13 1/2 over visiting North Texas. In a game pitting the Golden Panthers against the Mean Green, I've got to go with Mean Green, simply because it reminds me of this.

Get The Job Done Award

My birthday is coming up, and I may be going through a bit of a mid-life crisis. Maybe more of a mid-life alarm. Mid-life situation?

Like the commercial says, I am at the age where I get stuff done. Or at least I should be at the age where I get stuff done. But what do I get done? What have I got done?

The Dan Patrick Show hands out a Got It Done Award for someone in the news/sports scene who accomplished something worthwhile. (It is a fictitious award, so no real handing out of awards takes place. There is no statue or plaque or even a certificate to the best of my knowledge. In fact, I don't even know if the winners know they have won the Got It Done Award.) When Reese was fighting going to bed particularly hard the past weeks, I told Amy she got the Got It Done Award when she was able to get Reese to sleep. I may have gotten Reese to sleep - and therefore the Got It Done Award - once. So, even in my own house with my own daughter, whom I am basically in charge of, I don't get it done.

I used to get it done. I got a job in the magazine business when I was 20-years-old. I worked hard (and bugged the crap out of the editors) enough to go from working in the mail room to writing music reviews. They liked my writing, so they gave me more and more assignments until I was the magazine representative to go across country for an entire summer with a traveling concert.

I was able to get it done and parlay that job experience into a job with a sports magazine in Los Angeles. Amy keeps reminding me that people get jobs by connections. You know somebody who knows somebody at a company looking for what you do. But I got that job at the sports magazine on a total cold call. I didn't know anyone there. They didn't know me. I talked to someone over the phone, sent in some writing samples, and suddenly I was starting their "extreme sports" section.

I was getting the job done.

And I continued to get the job done.

Maybe I am just feeling the societal pressures of the man being the bread winner. Maybe I am feeling the pressure of turning 36. Maybe I am just being a big baby. But now, it feels like I'm not getting the job done. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever get the job done.

The thing is, I know I could get the job done if I had a chance.

However, I know I need to change my perception of what "getting it done" means. Because I am taking care of my daughter. Feeding her. Bathing her. Giving her naps. Taking her to the park. And I am also doing the laundry. And the dishes. And the shopping. And the cooking. Sometimes it gets dwarfed by the multi-million dollar deals Amy has to negotiate. And the fact she pays the mortgage. And every other bill we have, which I am eternally grateful. But I do get the job done.

You know what, I am getting the job done every day. I just need to realize it more often.

The things you learn at gym

Reese had her first gymnastics class today. She is not yet signed up for a full course, but I did take her to a "drop-in" class. The class was slated to begin at 9:15, but I got there early to scope out the scene.

The only person in the gym was a man setting up different pieces of equipment. I introduced myself and told him I wanted to see if Reese would be a good fit for this class. The man, an instructor with a strong Russian accent, told me to go to the office to talk to someone and complete paperwork.

After the paperwork, we went back to the gym. Nasko, the Russian instructor, told me the kids had free time until the class started, then they did some drills, then it was free time until the end of class. Reese enjoyed bouncing and jumping on the springy-floor of the gym and "dancing" as music roared over speakers. A mother, older daughter and young son arrived and went into a separate side room full of mats, rings, balls and bars. The boy, Owen, was 3-years-old and only had a few sessions left with the current class (the "Pluto" class is for children 18-months-old to 3-years-old; "Neptune" is for children 3- to 4-years-old) All of the classes are named after planets, even though Pluto is no longer recognized as a planet. A mother and young girl arrived next and joined us in the play room. Stella just turned 21-months (she was born on Nov. 12; Reese's birthday is Nov. 16), and her mother said she has been coming "for a couple of months."

There was supposed to be five students in the class, but Nasko came in to the side room and told us to go into the big gym. We made our way to the mat and Nasko told the children to sit on a plastic star that also had a stuffed animal. Reese sat on the reddish-orange star with a brown teddy bear.

The first "drill" for Reese was to hold the bear over her head and walk on her tip-toes to a line about 10 yards away and back. Owen had it down perfectly. Stella needed her mom to guide her. Reese ran off to try to play on other equipment in the room before I corralled her back to the group.

Nasko then set up swim noodles a couple of feet away from each other so it looked like the rungs of a sketchy foam ladder on the floor. The kids were supposed to jump over the noodles. Owen went right to it, hopping over the noodles with ease. Stella didn't want to move off of her star as she hugged her white teddy bear. I held Reese's hands and pulled her over each noodle. When I let go of her hands, she ran off to play on other equipment in the room before I corralled her back to the group.

Nasko then told the kids to run up and down around the noodles in a zig-zag. Owen tossed his stuffed tiger to the floor and excelled in the zigging and zagging of the noodles. Stella walked with help from her mother through the colorful foam maze, but was generally distracted. I tried to help Reese conquer the course, but she ran off to play on the other equipment in the room before I corralled her back to the group.

The children then sat on the floor and "stretched." I don't really know how any of the kids did because it took my full attention to keep Reese from running off to play on the other equipment. It seemed a little odd to me to stretch after the exercises, but what do I know?

Then it was free time. So the 45-minute course was maybe 10 minutes of organized activities and at least 35 minutes of do-whatever-you-want. It seemed a little steep to pay for such play, but Reese had a great time. Also, my sister in Long Beach said the gym classes her girls went to were more expensive than this, so I guess I should be happy about this deal.

Owen - the little showoff - climbed and jumped and swung and crawled over around and through every obstacle under the roof. He showed why he only has a few sessions left in "Pluto." The other kids don't need to be shown up like that. Owen was demonstrated superior agility, language skills and retention than Stella and Reese. I don't need my daughter reminded of what she can not accomplish, so thankfully Owen will not be an issue much longer.

Stella hung closely to her mother, obviously intimidated by the presence of another female her own age. Apparently Stella wanted to have Owen all to herself, but the addition of Reese spoiled her little plot. Reese offered an olive-branch of peace when she gave Stella the big tan teddy bear during free time, but Stella's conniving mind could not let go of the fact that Reese was younger (four days is a relatively long time with toddlers) than she was. Owen also took a liking to Reese, playing peek-a-boo behind a big cushy block. I guess Reese needs to learn about cattiness at some time, so she might as well get that lesson sooner rather than later since it seems like other girls will always be jealous.

Reese was fantastic, though, trying to make friends with Jealous Stella, but Stella apparently could not forgive. When Reese tried to join her in the bounce house, Stella rolled out and went to the trampoline.

I may bring Reese to the same class tomorrow morning to see if the social dynamics are different. But for now, it looks like Reese will learn a lot from this Pluto group.

Lessons I've learned (so far)

I have been a stay-at-home-dad now for more than a year. I have learned a lot since saying good-bye to my desk job with the local news station, where I was writing stories about traffic accidents and mayoral scandals and missing hikers.

DISTRACTION

The most important thing I have learned while raising our daughter is nothing is so serious or painful that can not be cured through a little slight-of-hand. I do not mean magic tricks. I mean, "Hey, look at this over here! What is this?" It is amazing how those two sentences, said in the correct pitch and inflection can avert a meltdown or magically cure a boo-boo.

DENIAL

This may be my own delusional thinking, but my daughter is an angel. She does not have a mean or angry bone in her body. So when her food ends up on the floor or the dog growls at her or the coffee table has crayon hieroglyphics etched onto it, I know that the plate "fell" and Reese did not throw it, the dog should know Reese just wanted to play with him when she wielded a wooden spoon like she was auditioning for the shower scene in Psycho, and Reese accidentally missed the paper while she was coloring. Because my daughter is an angel and would NEVER do anything wrong.

SERIOUSLY

When I do reprimand Reese for "bad" behavior, I need to keep a straight face. Even though she is incredibly cute and hilarious, Reese will not believe I want her to stop playing in the dog's water dish if I am laughing. This has been a tough lesson for me, because my family is well aware of my inability to lie or keep a straight face. Apparently my oldest nephew has the same problem, and my sister laughs and points and screams, "Uncle Rick lying face! Uncle Rick lying face!"

HUG IT OUT

When I do give timeouts, Reese has gotten into a habit of crying. Up until recently, she would happily go sit down in the corner not the least bit concerned I had scolded her for opening the oven. I feel ashamed to feel happy that she cries now. I hate it when she cries, but this seems like she now knows daddy was correcting an unfavorable action. So when the timeout is over, I tell her to come "hug it out." This is mostly for my benefit, but I think she likes it, too, because it gives closure to the episode.

PATIENCE

While distraction is most important thing I have learned, patience is a close second. Dealing with toddler is exhilarating, exhausting and mind-numbing all at once. It is awesome to witness a person learn her letters, numbers, colors, etc. The first time she says a word, it truly is exciting. But it also feels like being a triage doctor (considering how much experience I actually have being any kind of doctor, let alone one in an emergency room or battlefield). I am constantly trying to assess what is the most pressing need at the time - clean her face, or clean the floor; take away the spoon, or put the dog outside; give her a bath, or put her to bed. But the flip side to all of this is I can recite most episodes of Yo Gabba Gabba, Super Why!, Sesame Street, Blues Clues, Jack's Big Music Show, Backyardigans, and Penguins of Madagascar. I often have to close my eyes, take a deep breath, and remind myself this is fun and funny.

LONELINESS

Being a stay-at-home parent is overall a very positive thing: no dress code, no micro-manager nit-picking your emails, no office politics. But a drawback many may not consider (or under estimate) is the loneliness factor. It may be different with stay-at-home-moms, but I truly do not have adult interactions most days. It is a field trip for me to go to the grocery store and say hello to the check-out clerk. When we go to the park or the children's museum or the zoo, it looks as if dads are an endangered species. I feel like "One of these things is not like the others," is playing in the background. I think other moms can talk to each other, but I feel I am all alone.

Superhero in training.

As a kid, I was never into comic books. I never collected them. The only time I can remember wanting to buy a comic book was when Superman died, and I was already in college when that happened. (I wanted to read that one because that seemed like a pretty massive event in American history. Turns out, the biggest thing that happened because Superman died was it eventually led to Shaq being in a crappy movie.)

It seems as if has been an influx of movies recently based on super heroes, comic books and/or graphic novels. The movies look fun, I guess, but I have zero history or knowledge of the X-Men or Captain America or Thor (or, obviously, even Superman).

I bring this up because I do believe I live with a superhero. Or at least someone who has the potential to be a superhero. Reese could one day save your city by fighting crime.

Batman defends Gotham from bad guys all night long, then runs a multi-national corporation during the day. Scientific American had an article a couple of years ago where a scientist explained Batman. The scientist points out that Batman does not get enough rest.

Reese is go-go-go during the day, running from this toy to that, usually screaming babble all the while. She has been refusing to nap since we got back from Hawaii a week ago. And now she is not sleeping long at night, either.

She went down around 8 or 8:30 last night. She woke up and came into our room at 1:30. I took her back to her room and rocked her to sleep and put her back in her bed a little after 2:30. She was back in our room at 4, and this time WIDE awake. I tried to rock her again, but she came right back to our room. I finally gave in and let her sleep in our bed/ But she had other ideas. She tossed and turned and made Ripken sketchy (even more skittish than normal). Finally it was obvious she was not falling asleep, so I woke up with her.

She has been non-stop ever since, only calming down when she was in the high chair to eat a banana, toast and drink milk.

I regularly function with absurd amounts of caffeine in my system, but I have had to increase my dosage as Reese practices to become Batman. Teddy Roosevelt is said to have had a gallon of coffee every day. I may lap him just to keep up with my daughter.

Our little furnace

When I go to bed, I try to dress appropriately to what the weather is: cold and I'll wear flannel and/or long johns; hot and I'll wear loose shorts and/or a tank top. If I got too hot, I would use a lighter blanket or no blanket at all, maybe open a window. If I got too cold, I'd grab a second blanket.

Amy, however, is always running "hot." You would think that would mean she would wear lighter pajamas or sleep on top of the sheets. Not Amy. She likes to cuddle up under the blankets no matter what the temperature is. Her solution to "running hot" is to blast the air conditioner. Even in the winter, she likes to run the AC and snuggle under the covers.

It makes little sense to me. If it is hot, open a window. If it is cold, grab a blanket.

Apparently the "running hot" is not a phenomenon singularly bestowed upon my wife.

Last night, Reese woke up in the middle of the night and walked into our room. Usually either Amy or I would take her back to her room to rock her back to sleep. But we were both knocked out and I just lifted her onto our bed. When she is in our bed, it is like a shot of espresso to her - she immediately perks up and wants to jump all over the bed and play. But last night, she amazingly fell asleep. This was the first time she slept in our bed since she was an infant.

I am not a fan of Reese sleeping in our bed. First, our bed is really high off the ground (probably 4 feet), and I don't want her to fall off and hurt herself. Second, I am scared I may roll over on top of her and squish her. It's a silly fear when I sit down and think about it. I am a pretty light sleeper and I'm pretty sure I'd wake up if I rolled over on to my cell phone, let alone my daughter, but it is a fear I have nonetheless. And lastly, I just do not want to set a precedent for the future for her to barge into our room and sleep in our bed. Besides the whole privacy aspect, she needs to sleep in her own room. My parents never let me sleep in their bed. If I was scared or wanted to, they let me sleep on their floor. Never in their bed, though.

But Reese did indeed fall asleep in our bed. And I fell asleep, too. But Amy and I noticed something that we did not know before. Reese runs hot. Probably even hotter than Amy. She was a little furnace. Her skin felt like she had spent 10 hours jumping rope in an attic in Phoenix. I thought about putting suntan lotion on her. She was hot.

But, unlike her mother, Reese preferred to sleep on top of the covers.

Vacation recap

I apologize for the gap in between posts. My family went on vacation. We met my parents, my sisters and their families in Hawaii.

In a previous entry, I worried how Reese would do on such a long flight. I tried to skew her napping schedule to coincide with the flight. As it turned out, she slept only about an hour on each flight. And even though she grew antsy on the return flight, she did remarkably well being strapped in for more than 5 hours.

Seeing my family was very nice and much-needed for me. What really surprised me was how beneficial it was to Reese.

Her cousins played and danced and swam with her and taught her new words (water, pool, ocean, sand, etc.). They also gave her hugs. Or she gave them hugs. By the end of the week, Reese was approaching strangers with children hoping one of her cousins was in the broad. Reese tried to hold hands with a child, thinking she was her cousin Julia.

The biggest development with Reese during her week on the Big Island was revealed once we returned home. And it was more of a regression than a development.

Reese slept in a crib in our hotel room and is now back to not wanting to stay in her "big girl bed." We are back at square one with the bed training. It does not take us three hours to get her to go to sleep at night like it used to, but that is only because she will not stay in bed to take a nap during the day and is therefore EXTREMELY tired once it gets to be 7 or even 6 at night.

I installed a siderail, hoping it would give her a sense of security (or something) but she squeezes right past it or will just push it over.

I know we will get through this, but I'm just not sure how at this point!

Into the unknown

Can you imagine a world where virtually everything you saw was new?

I'm not talking about a place where everyone has the latest car, the latest cell phone or a world where retro clothes mysteriously vanish. I'm talking about a world you have no idea what anything is, where everything you see is something you not only have never seen before but something you could not even imagine. Like MIT's Media Lab center. But with less pocket protectors.

Every time you open your eyes, you see something you never knew existed. Not only that, every time you touch something you feel something you have never felt before. And almost every time you move, you do something you have never done before.

I don't know if I would be amazed, excited or terrified. Possibly all three all at once.

Taking Reese around town or for a walk around the block is such a joy because something as mundane as a water fountain (the kind everyone used to take free sips from at school or at the park before we decided to buy it in a bottle) is as mystical to her as MIT's "Bar of Soap" would be to me (by the way, I love how the MIT guy says it's a "relatively simple system." Sure, simple if you go to MIT or CalTech buddy!). Reese could have stayed and explored the water fountain for probably 30 minutes if I let her. Maybe even longer.

Every day objects like a fire hydrant or so foreign to her, she has to stop and examine it. What is this huge yellow object? What does it feel like? Why is it here? What do these bolts do? What does it taste like? (Point of clarification: I have never let my daughter actually lick or otherwise taste a fire hydrant. She has, however, licked a "Stop" sign post. Briefly. I stopped her as soon as I saw her do it. I don't think she swallowed too many diseases. We'll keep an eye on her, though, just to make sure.)

I think an adult's trepidation with the unknown is because an adult has felt pain, unwanted surprise and, unfortunately, grief. We know not everything is gentle. We know sometimes objects and creatures scratch, bite, sting, electrocute, maim, dismember, suffocate, and potentially eat other objects (i.e, your hand, leg, face or torso). If we have not personally felt it (especially the eating of our face or torso), we have heard about it or have seen Animal Planet enough to be tentative about new and unknown objects.

A toddler has no such fears. The unknown is not a chance to get hurt, but a chance to learn and experience something new. It is a refreshing way to look at the world around you - a chance to learn. And it is a way I think more adults need to look at the world, and others.

Fantasy Leagues make everything better

My wife and I actually do not fight very much. Part of it may be we are so agreeable, but part of it may be that she is always right and I am always wrong and I have no problem acknowledging that fact and she has no problem reminding me of that fact. (Kidding! My wife and I do not fight that much because we generally both like the same things - music, movies, restaurants, vacation spots, etc.)

One of the few areas we do disagree is reality television. She likes them because she has a very stressful job and she claims she needs mindless shows to "turn her brain off." I believe reality TV is the downfall of civilization. Every time I nudge her in the ribs about the absurdity and pointlessness of watch other people play out pretend real lives in front of the camera, Amy counters with what she views as just as useless a waste of time on my part - fantasy football.

I can remember in the early-'90s, publications like Street & Smith and Athlon Sports would have advertisements for fantasy football (those ads are still there, by the way). I had no idea what it was or how to play. I was interested, though, and wondered what it was all about. I remember asking my dad if I could get whatever package the ad was selling. It was one of those futile attempts kids know are a futile attempt but ask anyway and then have the nerve to be surprised/hurt when the request is denied. It was not until I had a job with a sports magazine in 1999 and I joined forces with two co-workers to finally enter my first fantasy football league. I believe our team was "Three Amigos." The league was run by a bartender and the draft was held on the deck of the sports bar. This was 1999, before NFL.com was even around, I think, and before Yahoo and ESPN ran Fantasy Football leagues. Everything was by paper. How primitive!

There are few firsts in your life that you will always remember. I have no clue what my first airplane flight was from and to. First song I slow danced to? Zero idea. But the big things - the really important things - you remember the first time. My first fantasy football pick was Brett Favre. It was an incredible and important lesson - don't pick Favre as your fantasy QB. Favre can be an exciting and entertaining player to watch and cheer for, obviously having fun and the wherewithal to underhand flip a pass to a running back when a linebacker is screaming right toward his head, but he also has the tendency to throw a pass into triple coverage and get intercepted when either another receiver is wide open or simply throwing the ball out of bounds is a better choice.

That first foray into fantasy sports was a special time for the 24-year-old me. The Three Amigos overloaded ourselves with stats and analysis of whether the best defense/special teams was a smarter pick than getting a No. 2 tight end. We printed out reams and reams of paper and color-coordinated highlighted our favorite players, using position-by-position lists as well as overall value of the top 300. I probably studied more intently for that first fantasy football draft than for any college final. I certainly prepared myself more rigorously for the draft than for the written portion of my driver's license test (which I, embarrassingly, had to take three times).

There are many theories why fantasy sports are so popular. Some say people want to feel in control. Others say people want to feel smarter than actual general managers getting paid to make player acquisitions. Still others claim it's just a watered-down version of gambling. And yet still others say it let's people have a deeper and broader appreciation of all teams in a league. The validity of such theories may be open to debate, but I think all of those miss the true point of fantasy sports - you are competing against other people for money/prizes/trophies/t-shirts/bragging rights/whatever.

Whether it is an actual touchdown by a wide receiver for your favorite team or a touchdown for your fantasy team, the whole nature of scoring signifies winning and losing, winners and losers. Why else would they keep score if it wasn't about winning and losing?

I remember when I worked as a photographer for ABC news in the Palm Springs area. We would be on location for hours for some stories and could not leave. For those of you who do not know Palm Springs, it is an artificial town in a desert, kinda like Las Vegas, but on a smaller and older scale. To be stuck at one place for hours on end ended up being fairly boring a lot of the time. Even if you are just waiting for the next newscast in 30 minutes, you're only really working about 90 seconds at a time. To pass the time, my reporter and I would start throwing rocks at objects to see who got the closest or who could hit it. A simple contest, sure, but it satisfied my need to pass the time as well as my need to show my athletic prowess (as much as throwing pebbles at a discarded soda can 30 feet away shows anything except people litter).

I do believe there is something innately hardwired in a man's brain to prove his dominance over other men. Men need to know and show they are better than other men. I truly think it is a primal, natural, Darwinian aspect of men to fight, compete, showoff. this is not to say women cannot or do not have the same urges, but I think it is more pronounced in men. And there are plenty of women who are more competitive than men. I can think of a few of my wife's friends who are cutthroat board game opponents.

The same aspect of giving people points adds a whole new dimension to simply watching football. Instead of primarily caring about the San Diego Chargers, I will now watch the Detroit Lions play the Minnesota Vikings to see how the Lions defense/special teams does.

This simple aspect of points very well could change my relationship with my wife. I have stumbled upon Reality TV Fantasy League. I may not have my own team, but at least I now have a way to watch these insufferable shows without rolling my eyes in contempt every 30 seconds. I can now jump off the couch, point to the TV and scream, "Ashley and Constantine had an open-mouth kiss! That's 10 points!"

I'm sure Amy will be thrilled at my new-found past-time.

Game changer

Lew Alcindor (now Kareem Abdul-Jabbar) was so dominate at UCLA, the NCAA created a rule in 1968 banning slam dunks in an attempt to somehow level the playing field. The result? Alcindor started using a sky hook, which is harder to defense than a simple dunk.

Pitcher Bob Gibson mowed down hitters with such ease in 1968 (22-9, 1.12 ERA, 28 complete games, 268 strikeouts) that MLB recognized the problem was Gibson had an advantage because he threw down at batters from a raised pitcher's mound. In 1969 Major League Baseball decided to lower the mound from 15 inches to 10 inches, in hopes to "increase the batting." That year Gibson went out and showed that he could probably strike guys out if he pitched uphill (20-13, 2.18 ERA, 28 complete games, 269 strikeouts).

Lawrence Taylor was such an amazing pass-rusher in the NFL, offenses changed because of him. When you see offensive tackles standing up with one foot back before the ball is hiked, that is because of LT. Before he arrived, all offensive linemen usually put one hand on the ground and had their feet relatively square. Because LT was so fast, tackles were being beat with such regularity and quarterbacks getting smacked with such velocity, linemen tried to gain any advantage they could. By standing up and having one foot back, the lineman is already in a pass-blocking position. That fraction of a second could mean the difference between a touchdown pass or Joe Theismann's broken leg.

These are what we call game changers. Nothing is the same after game changers.

Thursday, I took Reese to the Children's Museum and had to do some other errands. As a result, we were not home for her to take a nap. She slept a little bit in the car, but no more than 30 minutes. Considering she takes about a 2-hour nap, I knew she was still tired when we got home. I put her in the crib and closed the door knowing she would eventually fall asleep, even if she did fuss a bit at the beginning.

I was reading in our bedroom with the door closed when the handle started to jiggle. The door swung open and Reese stoop there with a big smile and said, "Hi!"

I was in shock. How did...but weren't you...what the hell just happened?

Reese figured out how to climb out of her crib!

Attempting to put her to bed that night was an arduous task. She kept climbing out of her crib every time we put her in it! She was obviously tired and needed to sleep, but she realized she didn't have to do what mommy and daddy wanted. Her exhaustion eventually overcame her independence and fell asleep.

Yesterday I converted her crib into a day bed. I was fearful she would try to climb out of the crib and fall and hurt herself. Even though she had accomplished the task without incident the night before, I was afraid something bad could happen the more tired she got.

The daybed idea made it easy and safe for her to get in and out of her bed, but also made it easy for her to stay out of her bed.

Last night Amy and I took turns trying to put her to bed. It lasted about three hours. And Reese woke us up at about 5 this morning (because she could) and fought taking a nap again.

There were points I thought were game changers with Reese. When she could roll over. When she could sit by herself. When she could stand. When she could eat normal food. When she could open any drawer in the house.

But this really looks like a massive game changer. This one is going to be hard to top. For awhile, anyway. I'm sure Reese will find a way to surprise me with some new skill that forces Amy and I to change the way we parent.

But like the sport greats mentioned earlier, you can change rules in an attempt to level the playing field, but history shows that those changes rarely matter. Which means, Amy and I can change all we want to try to slow down Reese, but it probably will not matter.

c3p0 in diapers

Depending on who you ask, there are anywhere between about 6,500 to 7,000 languages in the world right now. Also, about 1,000 to 2,000 are only spoken by a small group (1,000 people). So a conservative number of languages currently in circulation is approximately 4,500. Unless you are c3p0 from Star Wars ("I am fluent in over six million forms of communication..."), that's a lot of languages.

Children learn languages quickly. Very quickly. Time magazine senior editor and writer Jeffrey Kluger says a baby is born with zero idea of what language is, but by 18 months kids have a working vocabulary of 50 words. By 3 years old, kids can say about 1,000 words. By 6, the number of words is 6,000!

If you drop me in the middle of Moscow and leave me there for six years, I seriously doubt I will have 6,000 Russian words at my disposal when I leave. However, if the whole family moved right now to another country for six years, Amy and I could go to Reese as our personal interpreter!

Right now Reese can say a lot of words and even put a couple of words together in a rudimentary sentence (she has been saying "All done" to signify she's finished eating for some time now). But I wonder how much of her vocabulary is recognizable to other people and how much is a product of me being around her all the time and therefore understanding what her babble means?

Could you understand what "a-wha, a-wha" means? I'm still not 100 percent sure, but couple her words with her actions and it's a pretty good guess "a-wha, a-wha" means "I want." But I could be wrong.

There are two things I wish I knew. One is how to play a musical instrument. The other is to be bilingual.

One reason children learn languages so easily as opposed to adults is children's brain are different. The part of the brain that deals with learning language is huge as a child and stops growing somewhere around by the time most get to first or second grade. After more than two years of high school Spanish, I doubt I knew 1,000 words (but I don't how much you can blame my brain, my lack of effort or my truly idiotic Spanish teacher).

Right now, Reese is a verbal machine, babbling all day long with splattering of fairly distinct words and phrases. And then there are words she knows but can not say yet. For example, when we hear/see an airplane, I will say "airplane" and Reese will smile and point to the sky. If you say "airplane" and there is no airplane flying, Reese will still point to the sky and look around for an object up above. She knows the word "airplane" is associated with something in the sky. She may even babble some noises with the pointing of the sky, but I think it would be hard to distinguish "airplane" out of her verbiage.

Amy and I have often said Reese knows what she's saying, and once she realizes we don't know what she's saying, she will decide to speak English instead of speaking "Reese."

Maybe the only person who can decipher Reese's toddler babble would be c3p0.

Fear of being *that* family

We are only a week and a half away from a much-needed family vacation to Hawai'i, but I'm not too sure how relaxing it will be.

Oh, I know being on the beach with my family will be great, especially hanging out with my parents and sisters since I don't see them much anymore. And playing with Amy and Reese is always a good time.

I'm more concerned with getting to and coming from the islands.

A five or six hour airplane flight can be tough sledding for adults, but having a toddler is going to be an adventure. I am starting to worry how we will keep her occupied in a somewhat quiet manner for the flight. How can you bottle up a person who thinks running in circles banging pots and pans and shrieking like a banshee is a normal Wednesday morning? But enough about me, what am I going to do with Reese!

But seriously, it is a little daunting to try to train Reese to sit still for an extended amount of time. She barely sits through a book when we read to her. She likes to hold crayons and markers, but doesn't really doodle or draw, and when she does, it's only for a small chunk of time before she gets up and runs around in circles again. She will watch bits and parts of shows like Sesame Street or Yo Gabba Gabba and other kid shows, but only bits and pieces of the show. Plus, she will dance and "sing" when a song comes on, which is generally frowned upon in most airplanes (except, possibly, "Airplane" with the singing nuns or "Soul Plane" with Snoop Dogg as Captain Mack).

I have been trying to keep Reese up in the morning and putting her down for a nap at 11, which is when our flight is scheduled to depart, in the hopes she will get used to sleeping at that time and therefore sleep for most of the flight.

But I also know that nothing is certain, and the stimulus of the airport, the airplane and everything else going on would easily keep Reese awake. So I need to come up with some sort of plan to keep her occupied and somewhat quiet so other people on the plane don't look at us and groan. I don't want to be *that* family. You know, the family people complain about once they get home. "Hawaii was fine once we got there, but the flight over had a family with a little girl..."

Besides the nap (cross your fingers!), books and possible iPhone shows/games, we are planning on bringing lots of snacks. The snacks will keep her attention and keep her mouth busy with something besides "finding her voice." Grapes are key, especially still on the bunch. She then needs to pull them off and then eat them. It may seem silly, but that little extra effort means a lot. Also, crackers are handy because they take more time to soften and chew and swallow. Again, that little extra time can mean a lot.

If all else fails, I plan on ordering a couple of drinks from the flight attendant. Not for Reese, but for me!