Regarding CATS

The two lights of my life, Goonie and Bobo, were born into a musical and operatic family. Both their parents are professional stage performers. Their grandfather is a 35 yr retired drama teacher. They are bombarded on a daily basis with parental singing (sometimes yowling on a bad day), or musicals and opera on CD. They really have no choice but to appreciate and become singers themselves someday. Either that or truck drivers. They can sing along with The Wizard of Oz. They even know all the lyrics to “We’re Off To See The Wizard…”, although it took me well over 30 years to figure out that patter. One day I went to pick them up and they met me at the door all excitable about this “new” show that has a bunch of cats singing. They described how the cats live on a big trash heap and jump around the stage while singing about their curious 9 lives. “CATS?” I asked. “CATS is your new favorite musical?” “YES!” they squealed with glee. Now most everyone I know despises the musical CATS. It has no redeeming value as a musical other than hot dancers in colored tights and fur. They think that Sir Lloyd Webber’s music is simple and non-creative (read: it sucks), the plot is non-existent, and they could better spend their time doing three hours of sewer maintenance than watch this show. I’ve had the complete CD for 20 years, however, and a fan for even longer. I know what a Jellicle Cat is. So I joined in my daughters exuberant joy and promptly ripped and downloaded the CATS soundtrack onto my iPod. We listen to it every time we’re in my car together. We celebrate the mischief caused by Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, we hum along to the magic of Mr. Mistoffelees, and rock out with Rum Tum Tugger. We listen to it again. And again. and again……. I’m finding that this musical has no redeeming value without the hot dancers in colored tights and fur. I’m believing that Sir Lloyd Webber’s music is trivial and consists of clustered notes tossed together like a salad. And dammit! Where is the plot? I think I hate this musical.

I'm Hungry - I'm Full

Goonie gets smarter every day. She has learned the artful dance of negotiation, she reads like a 12th grader, and she even composes improv songs on hilarious subjects such as excrement and throw up. She gets her smarts (and humor) from me. However, sometimes logic floats away like a helium balloon and becomes an airhead. She gets that from her mother. Last night after a meal of two forkfulls of Mac & Cheese she proceeded to ransack my kitchen in search of snack booty. “I’m hungry” “Then eat your dinner” “But I’m full” “???!!!??” Even after six and a half years of parenting I’m still trying to plug in to kid logic. They obviously understand that to get out of eating any more of the ca-ca that is set before them all they have to do is feign fullness. But their strategy to get up from their dinner and go straight for the kitchen pantry, well, I’m on to that scheme like Pooh Bear to hunny trees. But I take the cue and run with the ball and say, “I’d be happy to get you a popsicle – as soon as you finish your meal.” “But I don’t want any more.” “Then obviously you don’t want any popsicles.” “Then can I have potato chips?” “No.” “Popcorn” “No.” “Cheez-its?” “Uh uh.” So off she goes to play and dance, forgetting that she’s hungry. But near bed time she can’t stand the hunger any longer and eats her cold cheesy noodles. And after reading stories and hugs and kisses, and getting her cups of water and milk for her bedside, she walks into the living room 10 minutes later… “Can I have a popsicle now?”

Everybody Was Kung Fu Peeing

I’m reaching a very remarkable milestone in my life – the day when I shall NEVER have to change another diaper again! Well, ok, it’s a pretty important milestone for my daughter, the little Klingon, too. She is now ‘dis many (3) and finally stepping up to the plate, er, the bowl rather, to pee in the potty on her own without the protective shield of an absorbent diaper. However, as these milestones are reached, there is a transition period. Right? Can I get an “Hell Ya” from all the parents out there? A little person doesn’t stop wearing a diaper cold turkey one day and start using the porcelain throne as if it were second nature full time, right? Right. There are mistakes to be made. Accidents are expected. Just, why does it have to happen on the same throw pillow on my couch!?! Ok, sure, my precious little daughter has had “ooopsies” on the floor, and thankfully, on the linoleum in the bathroom on her way to the potty. But I swear I’ve steamed and Oxicleaned this pillow full o’ pee at least three times now. There are three, count ‘em, three decorative pillows on the couch, but it’s always the same one. Interesting, i’nt it, how a young Klingon, like a dog, will find an object to mark her territory again and again. But have no fear, if Oxiclean is as strong as it touts on cleaning up tough “diaper leakage”, you’ll feel safe that you may lean your head on my couch throw pillow with no fear of offensive odor or stain. I’m just not telling you which one of the three pillows. ;-)

Sausage Monster

My little Bobo is a true born carnivore. Takes after her dad. That’s me! Yes, Bobo the Klingon has a craving for animal products. She and I can enjoy a heaping stack of babyback ribs, a plateful of greasy bacon, or extra raw horsemeat burger if we ever travel to Hungary. Goonie, however, takes after her mother. She’s a self-taught vegetarian and prefers to dine on fresh vegetables, fruits and whole grains. Ok, I know I can’t get that one past you. She actually prefers deep fried okra, fruit roll-ups and Kraft Mac & Cheese, and please do not make it the Sponge Bob shape! I took my girls to eat at kid-friendly Dennys, where they offer delicious and nutritious meals for kids consisting of rocket shaped chicken planks, happy face pancakes, and colored sugar additive that turn water blue, red or green, as well as providing one hell of a sugar rush lasting the entire meal. Not to mention kids eat free on Sunday! SCORE! The girls decided to order identical meals: cheesy pasta noodles (c’mon it’s mac & cheese!) and a side of grapes. I ordered the meat lovers scramble. Goonie’s quick vegetarian response was, “eeewwwwww!!!” To which little Bobo mimicked and cried, “eeewwwwww!!!” Goonie is so proud to be training little Bobo to become a vegetarian just like her. Our server placed our food before us on the table about 10 minutes later. By that time the sugar squad duo was in high gear. Goonie stuffed grapes in her mouth, creating chipmunk cheeks. Of course, little sis had to do the same. Yup, you guessed it…one laugh and the grapes flew all over the table. I noticed, however, that Bobo seemed indifferent to her cheesy mac and was eyeing my plate as I shoved gobs of meat-filled scrambled eggs into my mouth. I knew her secret desire for salty bacon so I offered her a piece. Bobo tasted the bacon, shoved it into her mouth, dropped her fork and walked around to my side of the corner booth and sat very snuggly next to me, looking closer at my plate. “Do you want some more bacon, Bobo?” “Mmm hmmm” She says ‘mm hmm’ to just about everything. You could ask her, “are you an alien from Mars,” and she would respond in the affirmative, “mmm hmmm.” So I give her an entire slice of bacon. Gone. I’ve only been provided two slices of bacon and the same amount of sausage. I’m already running low on meat products. “How about a sausage, Bobo?” “Mmm hmmm.” She took the sausage link, savored a small morsel just to be sure, then I kid you not, she shoved the rest on the link into her mouth, grabed the other link with both hands and gobbled it just like Cookie Monster, “mmmaaarrrhhgghhhmuaahharrrghgghgh!” After a few chews she swallowed the Tyrannosaurus size bite and said, “Uuuuuurrrrrppp! ‘Coo me!” Which, of course, is ‘excuse me’ in Klingon dialect. Well, Goonie got a big kick out of Bobo’s production and laughed and giggled with delight. Then did it herself. “Uuuuuurrrrrrrppp!! ‘Scuse me!” “Uuuuuuurrrrpp!!! “Coo me!!” repeated the Klingon “Urrrrrrpppp!!!! ‘Scuse me!!!” parroted Goonie. Oh boy. Despite my attempts to subdue the belching chorus of these two rugrats fueled by a super sugar high, they continued a crescendo of stomach noises until we left, which was pretty promptly after the beginning of the impromptu performance. Meantime, the nice older couple nearby attempting to enjoy a plate of grits & a bowl of prunes gave me the double stink eye. But as we departed said, “they’re so cute.” “Thanks,” said I. “I taught them everything I know.” Then without hesitation I provided the coda to the chorus with my signature Daddy fake belch, “UUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPP!!! Oh!! ‘Scuse me!”

Black Bear & Sweetie

Fact: I have two beautiful daughters. Fact: But I have four precious darlings to care for. See the picture above? These are my other two precious darlings. Sweetie & Black Bear. Wherever my girls go, Black Bear and Sweetie are there. To the Zoo. To Montana. To the donut shop. To the park to play in muddy sand boxes. Yes, these two little darlings are most precious, and losing one would be like losing my own flesh and blood. Heaven help the individual who leaves one or both of these precious creatures behind in a grocery store or playground. Hell hath no fury like a toddler or little girl who has lost her woobie. And no amount of dirt, grime, or mangled eyeballs will ever deter my daughters’ love or affection for these soft and cuddly creatures. Nay, they are not “stuffed” toys. They are living things, bringing joy, comfort and companionship to two little girls. Little Bobo has not spent one night without her Black Bear since the day she was born. This, of all her cribmates, is her one and only favorite who must be present every night when the lights are doused. Black Bear is on her second pair of eyes by now, each one being replaced within the last year or so. Yes, she’s a blind black bear with two glass eyes. Lucky for her she needs no cane as Bobo is quite willing to drag her along everywhere she needs to go. Little Sweetie the Cat has been Goonie’s favorite for years. I believe Sweetie is an international traveler, having crossed the border into British Columbia and multiple northwestern states, not to mention a cruise to Alaska. Today Sweetie learned not to reach across the table, lest ye be smeared on the belly with a camouflaged goop of McDonald’s Ketchup. Yes, Sweetie & Black Bear will be getting a well needed bath tonight. But the nice thing about getting all four of them clean at the same time, they all four fit in the washing machine (gentle cycle of course) and are quick to hang dry.

Nighties & Panties & Bras….Oh My!

Li’l Bobo has a memory like a sponge. She never forgets. And at 2 she is at such an impressionable stage that any silly comment, noise or inflection Daddy makes (and he’s capable of making many) she remembers the exact context and situation. Yesterday I was strolling through the local mall hand in hand with my two beautiful girls. What man could be more proud than to be walking in a very public place with his two favorite girls at his side? Well we happened to pass a lot of retail clothing stores. All with window displays to attract the fervent shoppers passing by. We casually walked by Victoria’s Secret, and Goonie couldn’t help but notice the unashamed, immodest mannequins posing with nothing but women’s skivvies on their bottoms. “Look, Daddy! They’re just wearing underwear!” If you recall, Goonie has an astute appreciation for undergarments. So I casually look at the bare mannequins (as if I hadn’t noticed already) and feigned shock. “OH MY GOSH!” said I, slapping my hands to my cheeks with an overacting style rivaling that of Macaulay Culkin. “OH MY GOSH!” echoed little Bobo. I swiveled to look at my baby girl and she, too, had an adorable Home Alone poster child look as she gazed at the ladies lingerie in the window. “Oh my GOSH!” she repeated. I couldn’t stop my hearty baritone laughter from ringing throughout the resonant mall. I think they heard me all the way down at the hardware section in Sears. Li’l Bobo smiled at me, knowing full well from my response that she again had me wrapped snuggly around her tiny little finger. And such a fine performance would not have been complete without an encore. Later we returned the same way heading toward our exit. Bobo didn’t miss a beat when we reached the shocking display window at VS. “OH MY GOSH!” she squeaked in her little 2-yr old voice, posing once again. Bystanders and mall walkers all giggled with delight at the little overacting toddler. Oh yeah, she’s gonna be an Oscar winner some day. I’ve got dibs as her personal manager.

Evil Goonie-in-Training

I’m so very proud of my Goonie and her delight in evil characters. We recently watched Disney’s new DVD release of Peter Pan. During the movie I, the Evil Baritone, was entranced by the villain, Captain Hook. I turned to Goonie and asked which character she liked best, more specifically, did she like Capt. Hook? My little Evil Goonie-in-training did not bat an eyelash, and keeping her eyes glued to the screen said, “No, I like Tic-Toc the crocodile. I want him to eat Capt. Hook!” BRILLIANT!!! She digs the VILLAIN of the villain!!!! Ah, yes. Goonie’s training is coming along nicely. Goonie is also becoming a critical eye for talent in cinema. The other night Evil Mezzo put in a VCR (wha…? Who uses VCR anymore?) of The Last of the Mohicans starring Daniel Day-Lewis. Mr. Day-Lewis, it seems, has a special place in Evil Mezzo’s heart. I’ve overheard her describe him as “dreamy”, “a dishy beast”, and “sexy hunka-hunka burnin’ love.” Well, Evil Mezzo made a comment to Goonie as the movie opened and the first glimpse of Mr. Day-Lewis’s character in rustic wilderness garb, something to the effect of, “Goonie, isn’t that man just the most handsome man you’ve ever seen?” To which Goonie quickly replied, “yes, almost as handsome as Daddy.” She’ll be the first person I thank when I am awarded my Oscar.

I Want to Rock & Roll All Night...

Time for another installment of... OVERHEARD IN THE EVIL BARITONE CHARIOT: "Those guys are wrong. My mamma DOES dance and my daddy DOES rock & roll." Rock on little Goonie.

Mamma's Got A Woody

I sit before the computer contemplating some clever topic for a blog. Evil Baritones can't be creative all the time. We're very busy planning to take over the world. Goonie bursts into the room. Goonie: Daddy, did you know Mamma’s got a Woody? Me: I... I beg your pardon? Goonie: Have you seen Mamma’s Woody? Me: Uh, no. No I didn’t. Tell me about Mamma’s woody. Goonie: I gave her a Woody. C’mon! Let’s go see it! Goonie drags me into the living room where Evil Mezzo is performing yoga along with a DVD. She is in the Down Dog position along with a beautiful blonde who is issuing calming instructions from the TV. Not the best time to be talking about Woody in front of daddy. Goonie: Mamma, show Daddy your Woody! Evil Mezzo: Oh, yeah. I meant to show you my Woody two days ago and I forgot. Me: You’ve had a woody for two days and you didn’t tell me? Evil Mezzo: Yeah, Goonie gave me a Woody a few days ago. Here, look. With that, Evil Mezzo stand erect and lifts the lower left leg of her sweats. There, a temporary tattoo of Sheriff Woody from Pixar’s “Toy Story” smiles back at me. I release a big sigh of relief. Me: Oh……! Whattya know! It’s Sheriff Woody! Goonie: Yeah, Daddy. I told you. Do you want me to give you a Woody, too? Me: NO! I mean, no, Sweetheart, but thanks. Evil Mezzo: You’re gonna blog about this, aren’t you. Me: (Smirking) You bet your Woody.

A Diva is Born

EvilBaritone and Goonie are on their way to Babies R' Us to purchase some items to Bobo-proof the house. (Baby Klingons have a propensity for climbing and getting into every cabinet, drawer, and light socket available.) On the way they pass a bar with the following on their marquee: "$1,000 KARAOKE CONTEST THIS THURSDAY" EB: Hey, Goonie, you think Daddy should enter the karaoke contest to win a thousand bucks? Goonie: No, 'cause I would win. A diva is born. American Idol contestants watch out!

Wait for it...wait for it...

It was time for Bobo’s 2 yr immunization shots. Bobo squirmed on the patient bed, curious about all the knick knacks in the little patient room, completely unaware of what was about to occur. The nurse assigned to do the dirty deed finally arrived and approached my little Klingon with a needle jutting in the air, a friendly smile on her face, all the while saying, “this won’t hurt. It’s okay. Juuuuuust relax…” Yeah. Asking Bobo to relax gets you about the same results if you were to squeeze a bull’s balls and ask him not to gore you. But Bobo raised her eyebrow at the nurse holding a pointy object as if to say, “you’re not gonna do what I think you’re gonna do…are you? You poke that thing in me and I’ll take you down to Chinatown, girl!” Bobo must have sensed that she was outnumbered with two parents holding her down and a big sister ready to catch her if she escaped so she struggled not. She sat right there and watched as the nurse pricked her upper arm. She didn’t even wince. The nurse expelled the fluid slowly into Bobo’s arm. We knew the wail would come. Wait for it…wait for it… Nothing. No wailing. No gnashing of teeth. She took it like a true Klingon warrior. The nurse removed the needle and Bobo looked right at her with those vengeful eyes letting her know in Klingon speak, “you thought you could torture me. You loose. I shall not forget this day. Oh yes, I will have my vengence!” But to us it sounded like, “babble wabble goony goo goo.” Sure is nice to be threatened in such a sweet baby-like way.

Shyaddup and Eat Your Poop

Photo by Jocelyn McCuley First, I can’t wait to find out what Google searches end up on this entry. (You sickos!) Little Goonie is 5 (“and a half”) and has reached the stage where all things Poop releated are the funniest jokes on the planet. Simply mentioning the word ‘Poop’ gets her rolling hysterically on the floor. Bobo the Klingon had her #2 birthday this week. She adores her big sister and anything funny to Goonie is worthy of being funny for her. Goonie has lured Bobo into the fold of “poop is funny”. When she has soiled her diaper she makes no hesitation to run up to a parental unit and shout “POOP!” ‘Course, in her little Klingon accent it comes out more like ‘pyooooop’ making her embarrassing moments in public a little more cute and endurable. But Bobo only knows the shape, color texture of her own poop and the little tiny poop droppings from the Chihuahua. Stay with me… On Bobo’s birthday we went with my in-laws to dine at Sweet Tomatoes. If you’re not familiar with Sweet Tomatoes, it’s an all-you-can-eat buffet style restaurant except the buffet line is about a quarter mile long stocked with all varieties of salads, noodle salads, toppings & dressings, creating a sweet sensation of ‘I’m gorging on healthy food so it’s ok to overeat’. After devouring two mountainous plates of salad there was still room for desert. So I headed for the desert bar and found a delicious variety of chocolate pudding and chocolate mousse. (Review my addiction here) I piled about three servings full onto a plate and sat back down. Bobo sat across from me and when she saw the giant glop of brown gelatinous pudding she all but screamed, “POOOP!! Poop, Dada!” All eyes in the crowded restaurant flashed our direction to see what the poop commotion was about. I’m sure they didn’t want to step in anything as they left in disgust. I grabbed a spoon, hunched over my plate of ‘poop’, looked at Bobo and said, “shyaddup, kid. Here, eat some poop.” Goonie witnessed the entire ordeal and could not contain herself after I offered poop to her younger sister. “Poop! You’re eating poop! Ha ha!” For the rest of the meal and the entire ride home it was a “POOP!”-fest for the girls. Songs about poop. Farting noises. Uncontainable laughter. Then when the laughter subsided a little, Bobo would say, “pyoooop” and hysterics started again. I guess Bobo’s subconscious worked overtime with the topic of the day, ‘cause when we got home…you guessed it! A very large token of appreciation awaited us in her diaper. Whew! I’m pooped.

Sisterly Love

As I sit and type this bloggity blog, my two girls are quiet. Almost too quiet. They both sit in Goonie’s room trying on the eldest’s clothes & costumes. How adorable little Bobo looks with a Tinkerbell hat. A perfect picture of sisterly adoration. But I bring you exhibit A to the left. This happened last night. This, dear parents and parents-to-be, is the result of sibling love. Our big girl Goonie became tré upset over the most trivial matter. Details are unimportant, but the Goon has a tendency to be a little bit ‘Rain Man’ sometimes, and if matters don’t work out exactly as she had planned in her mind she goes, well, I think the precise parental term is Ape Shit. As the Goon was throwing her little tantrum and screaming (I’m most impressed with her high C) little Bobo decided to join the “game” and screamed in unison with her big sister. (They will be an adorable little Patience & Prudence someday) But Goonie didn’t appreciate Bobo’s attempt to share her tantrum so she lashed out and scratched her sister’s face real good. My my my – what Irish tempers both these children have. Goon is now grounded until she’s 12. But there is an upside – I am confident when Goon is a teenager, she and her Irish temper will be able to fight off those pesky, horny boys who think they can take advantage of her. My shotgun is safe.