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!