Love letter to the ballpark

Allow me to start off by saying that yes, I fully realize there have been approximately 10,000 memoirs and tributes and recollections and top 10 lists of favorite moments written at this point with about another 10,000 to be composed before the final game is played there this Sunday.

I am one of those who wrote one. And you know what? Here's one more.

To begin this love letter to the ballpark, let's go back to 1993. 

I was there for the last game ever in Arlington Stadium. Which was also the final game ever for Nolan Ryan. Which was also, also the final game ever for George Brett. 

The Rangers, at that point were pretty bad. At least they had offense. Pudge, Juan, Raffy, Jose Canseco. A very homer happy but also strikeout and error prone Dean Palmer anchoring the hot corner. The pitching staff was okay-ish as I remember, but Nolan had very much entered the twilight of his career at this point and had I think his worst season ever. 

The final game ever at Arlington Stadium was a sad one for me. I won't wax poetic here: Yes, the old stadium was a dump. But it was a dump that had endearing charms about it. That stadium in all its metal bleacher glory resembled more of a wok sizzling the souls of those fans hearty enough to endure the summer time heat, but it was the place where I gained my baseball consciousness. All that to be said, I was also thrilled beyond comprehension to have this new ballpark on the way. 

And then in April 1994, my Dad and I walked into the new ballpark for the first time to watch the Rangers play the Mets in an exhibition game. And man, I was in absolute awe. We parked in what is currently Lot L, where you walk through a little wooded area and over a bridge across a tiny creek to get to where you need to go. Once you got through that clearing, there right across the street stood this grand brick facade of one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen.

That initial reaction I had seems to be one shared by many: How could the Rangers have built this? We, historically, were a terrible baseball team. We never won anything. And yet, here they are with this new grandiose tribute to the great game. This Temple (hat tip again, Mike Rhyner). 

Was this even real? And new uniforms too? How was this even possible? 

I wasn't there for that first Opening Day (I was at school, with a Walkman and a tiny pair of headphones that I tried to be so inconspicuous with), but every time we went during that first season was a holiday to me. Back then there was no scoreboard watching in my baseball brain, no concern over what the other teams in the division were doing. To just be there watching a game was a privilege, and the greatest night in the world.

It was always fun during those early years to scoot down as close as you could to the action behind home plate and watch the final inning or two of a game. Back then there were no ushers to chase you out of those seats. You were free to kick back in row 1 and watch with your feet up without a care in the world.

I also wasn't there the night of Kenny Rogers' perfect game, instead I was at home with both the radio and TV going so I could have visual evidence of the historical proceedings on the field to match the play by play of the great Mark Holtz on the radio. And I wasn't there for many of the playoff games during those exciting, albeit brief times in 1996, 1998, and 1999 (they usually got in the way of the Greek Food Festival, if I remember correctly.) But I was there for at least one game during that first ALDS series, and what a momentous time this was to witness these same little old Rangers finally playing some real honest to God playoff games. I couldn't get over it again. How was this possible?

My father had season tickets through his company. Because of school, we went to games usually on weekends. But once those tickets went away I convinced him to go 50/50 (or maybe it was 70/30 but lets be honest it was probably 100/0) with me on getting some season tickets of my own in centerfield, right up next to Greene's Hill. Those were, and still are, beautiful seats. Slightly altered over the years, the wide landscape and the panorama you get of the beautiful baseball landscape laid out before you has always been one of my favorite things.

It's also where, at a random game in 2006 that also happened to be on my birthday, on a 2-2 pitch from Rangers starter John Wasdin, the following happened:

Of course leave it to me to parlay that moment of semi-greatness into meeting my wife, and we did, right here underneath the home run porch.

And three years later, on an unforgettable evening in late March, we celebrated saying our "I Do's" in the Diamond Club.

I guess that's just one piece of many making me sad about leaving this place. Most people have the ability to go back and revisit certain locations where momentous occasions in their lives have occurred. Some maybe a little bit easier than others. And there's nothing to say this won't be accessible to us but as a football stadium? Really? It will be a hard pill to swallow for me.

And before you try and tell me "you'll make new memories in the new ballpark", yes, I know. We will. But right now, I'm more wrapped up in how much I'm going to miss this place. This place where we've seen our summer family grow exponentially over the years. From all our friends at Valet East. To all the ushers we've become close with. And especially Fred. We still miss him everyday.

I'm going to miss how it felt in 2010 and 2011. And the random fans around you that you'd find yourself cheering with during those playoff runs. And coming home from every one of those postseason games with such scratchy sports voice from cheering at the top of my lungs.

I'm going to miss how LOUD that place got after A-Rod stuck out in 2010. And how no one wanted to leave after the last out of the World Series that year. I've never felt so uplifted after a loss. No one wanted to leave the ballpark that night. And the noise that reverberated through that place when Mike Napoli ripped a double into the gap in Game 5 of the World Series one year later.

You could say that World Series, much like the life of this ballpark, should have ended so, so differently.

I'll miss the memories we've made there with three children. All of which went to their first game within the first couple of months or so of their lives.

And I'll think about how it felt, walking into that ballpark for the first time and every time after. With my wife. With my children. With my Dad and Grandfather. 

And how good it felt, each time

to be home.

To our little caboose

For 25 years, beginning long before we ever knew each other your Mom and I have called this place our summer home. We've laughed here, we've cried here, we've lost our voices yelling like maniacs here. We've high-fived and celebrated with strangers we didn't know.

Your oldest sister has been coming here for six years. Your youngest sister four. But you have only been able to call this place home for two years. Two quick, short years. And frankly that makes us pretty dang sad. Yes we'll soon have a new ballpark to make a whole slew of new memories in, but it'll be a strange feeling.

So tonight, for the first, and last time ever, we had father/son night at the Ballpark. The Temple, as Mike Rhyner so affectionately calls it.

(I'm going to miss that view at dusk on evenings like tonight, by the way.)

We watched approximately three at-bats tonight in actual seats. That was about it. (The top and bottom of the first inning lasted like 17 hours anyway.) And really, I was okay with it. The rest of the time, we wandered the ballpark, taking in everything soon to be gone at the end of this week. And the evening became filled with a lot of this:

And this: 

And warning you to be careful. And telling you not to climb on things. And cringing as you ran too far ahead of me getting dangerously close to stairs. You know, normal things for a two year old.

And like the article Evan Grant wrote earlier this week, the ballpark really is just a building. Sure it's one that many, many people have a million emotional ties to but in the end its just a building made out of brick and steel. And I have to tell you, Jack: Sadly, you won't remember any of these moments inside this big beautiful ballpark made out of brick and steel that you've experienced for the last two years.

But we'll always have these pictures from tonight.

(Most of them of the back of your head because you're running away from me)

And many others that your Mom has taken of you and your sisters. And we'll talk about all the fun we've had in this big beautiful ballpark made out of brick and steel.

And I'll be so, so glad to have all these memories. 

Solo parenting

I got into a discussion with a guy friend recently about the subject of solo parenting. I'm speaking from a guy point of view here.

Just to clarify this is not solo parenting because you are not currently involved with someone, etc. This is the kind of solo parenting where your schedule and your wife's schedule make it so that you're forced to be on your own more than just a couple hours a week.

In our case, Mel's schedule is such that it gives her the flexibility to make her own hours as she deems fit. But it also means that yours truly has to take the reins and commandeer the ship most of the day on Saturday or Sunday and at least one evening a week depending on what all else is going on. But we make it work.

I know that in many cases, men struggle with this. I mean by this point there's got to be about a million studies full of all sorts of science and crap that all point to hey look, genius, you're a man and you suck at solo parenting. Women are and always will be the best at this. The tiny humans who now live with you once lived inside her for 9 months, so OF COURSE she's going to be the true G.O.A.T at this.

So for the male population, here are a few tips to make your solo parenting experience a better, less lay curled up in a ball on the floor in a puddle of your own tears sort of one.

Let's start with a basic one.

- Establish a routine: This is something you should really start off doing pretty much from the moment you get home from the hospital anyway. Some parents don't, and that's okay. I'm not here to judge. But when you have a routine of waking up, going down for nap, when to make a bottle etc it makes the day so much easier for everyone involved. This is especially true when you have multiple children at home and many ages to consider. Call it a guide to plan out your day. Which kind of sveltely segues into the next talking point...

- Don't be afraid to get out and do stuff: Look, I'm not saying it'll never be rough. Chances are, it will be. As well as awful. And downright chaotic. But the only way you're going to get better at this is if you actually take your clan and go do stuff with them. Don't forget about the first thing we just talked about and mind the clock if you have to, so that way you're back home in enough time to get everybody down for a nap. Best of all, the better you get at this the more comfortable you're going to feel with stretching things out a little more and maybe spending a little longer somewhere than you normally would.

To piggyback onto this one, don't just resort to movies and Netflix all day. Instead, use getting to watch a movie or a few Paw Patrols or something as a reward to yourself and your kids from a good excursion out running errands at Home Depot or something. That way you get a little downtime out of it.

I know, I know, it's going to suck not being at home watching College Gameday on Saturday mornings. I've been there. Set it to record and watch it all later. And tell your buddies to leave you alone, you've got some solo parenting to do.

- Always be preparin': Bring that backpack with you when you go out. Load it up with essentials. You'll want plenty of snacks, water cups, maybe have a bottle ready, wipes and diapers if you need them, maybe a change of underwear and pants if you have a child who's in the middle of potty training. You never know when you'll be in a bind.

And kind of on that same note, also plan on having your kids use the potty before you leave to go out somewhere. And if you own a family minivan and have enough room, portable toilet seats are beneficial to keep in there.

- Find something cheap to go do: Going out and doing stuff with your kids doesn't always have to hit you in the wallet. Going to the movies is getting pretty expensive. Taking everyone to a ballgame requires a small loan. But hey, here's a little tip from me to you: Parks are your friend. Or a perennial favorite of ours, is dropping 5 bucks for a ticket to ride the new TexRail train that takes you west to Fort Worth or east to the big airport. The last stop in Fort Worth drops you off across the street from the Water Gardens. Pack a lunch of some snacks, and it's a great way to kill off a morning. And what kid doesn't love running around an airport terminal, huh? It's an airport! With planes! And other stuff! Or just take them to the Founders Plaza next to the runways and watch planes land. Plenty of room to let the little ones run around like maniacs.

And finally,

- Naptime, your BFF: When you get home from doing whatever, and children A, B, and C head off to their room for naps, use that time wisely. Nap also. You could definitely use the mental recharge.

So that's all I have. Nothing too earth shattering but I hope these survival tips help make your solo parenting time more enjoyable and less traumatic.

It's baseball season

If you've perused our fine work here for any period of time, you've probably come to realize one of two basic principles in terms of subject matter you will find on this blog.

1. We truly love talking about our kids. Obviously.

2. We truly love talking about baseball.

And hey, wow, what a great tie-in. Funny, it's like I almost had it planned that way. Because as you may or may not already know this week is Opening Day across major league baseball.

To be perfectly honest I've completely lost track of how many Rangers' Opening Days I've attended. Best estimate is probably somewhere between the range of fifteen and twenty. It didn't slow down when Maddie came along, not with Norah, and now not with Jack (although he will be missing this year's festivities again due to age limit restrictions imposed by Mom and Dad). So yes, one might say it takes a lot for one of us to miss an Opening Day.

If you need further evidence of this, back in 2009 when we were still all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed fresh from our honeymoon in Belize and right about 2 weeks into being a married couple, Mel and I watched the Rangers play the Indians in the first game of the season while she was suffering from a massive case of vertigo. I'm pretty sure she puked on the way to the ballpark at least once or twice, and then a couple of times there as well. Were it not for the TLC of our favorite usher Fred, who knows how many more times she would have called up Ralph on the big white telephone that day.

As for my own personal experiences of going to Opening Day, they didn't really ramp up until the current ballpark was built. I was not at the first game of the year in 1994, as I spent the second half of that school day at Harwood Junior High trying to squeeze in as much listening to the game as I could with a tiny walkman and some inconspicuous looking earbuds.

(Note: This was 1994 so there was not such a thing as inconspicuous looking earbuds really.)

But without fail, every year saw that excitement plant a seed and begin to grow through spring training and ultimately reach a crescendo on that one particular spring day at the start of a new season. What began as a kid continues on in adulthood.

I assume it will never go away. I hope it will never go away. And truthfully, if one of the biggest joys you get as a parent is to watch your children grow up and succeed at something in life then I would offer to you another is to be able to share the love of the great game and the beginning of a new season with your kids. To be able to look in their eyes and see that excitement that you know is genuine because for the first time in 6 long months, you get to go the ballpark to watch a baseball game: That's an awesome thing.

So let's not beat around the bush or whatever here: Opening Day 2019 will surely be a little more melancholy than some of the others, and I think you all know why. Corporate greed has won out over fan emotions.....maybe not of all fans, but of many.

Sad, but ultimately true (in my opinion).

But I digress. We'll be there this year. And the year after that, in some strange new ballpark we never wanted to see built in the first place. And the year after that.

And for many years to come.

Because after all.



It's what we do.

Idle time

Where's that soap box? Ah, there it is.

So writing about anything these days, is hard.

There are so many things I'd like to talk about. I probably need to talk about for therapeutic reasons. Heck, I just got done a few weeks ago talking about how writing (or blogging) is good for the soul. Welp.

But the fact of the matter is this: In all of our daily lives where it feels like we solo parent more often than not, it's difficult when you have the opportunity, to not just sit on the couch and detach.

Detach when it's nap time (or some semblance of nap time) for your children. Detach when everybody goes to bed at the end of the night. When all you want to do is flip on a game or your favorite streaming service and get caught up on whatever wets your whistle on Hulu or Netflix, etc.......just detach. I struggle with this I think worse than anybody at times.

But the truth of the matter is, those times of quietness can usually be among the worst.

So here's what I propose you (and I) do to make your down time seem a little less "down".

I contest that it's not a horrible thing to sit down and watch whatever's on television as long as it's in moderation. Hey look, there's some really great stuff on right now. We fly the This Is Us flag proudly in this house. The Good Doctor and A Million Little Things are also big players. We even enjoy the occasional documentary on Netflix.

There's nothing wrong with enjoying them in moderation, as log as you're not punting on your responsibilities you may also have on your plate.

But before you settle in for the night. Before you throw on your favorite, well-worn pair of sweatpants or hoodie that you've worn 11 consecutive days in a row, do one thing constructive with your time.

It can be anything. Go out for a run. Tidy up your closet. (Sup', Marie Kondo). Empty or load the dishwasher. (Or both). Something.

Maybe even read for a bit. An actual book - not on a computer screen or even a Kindle. I think that flipping pages in an actual book provides your brain with some context that scrolling through a longform article on a webpage does not.

After you do that, I promise your down time for the remainder of the evening will seem that much more gratifying. Give it a try.

End soap box.

New year, new blog

What did you do on NYE? Did you go out and celebrate? Were you one of the lucky ones to be out in Times Square? Or did you stay home and watch a Christmas movie with your kids while everyone dined on the finest peanut butter and jelly sandwiches imaginable?

(That's what we did.)

Let's talk resolutions for a moment.

What are some of yours? Lose weight?

Travel more?

Complain less?

Let's be honest, we all have approximately 382 of them and maybe, just maybe we're able to stick with and do a relatively good job of staying true to one of them.

I'll share mine with you right now. It's a pretty simple one.

Sure I have this massive different conglomeration of things I want to do in 2019 just like everybody else. Love my kids more. Be a better husband. But the main resolution I have for 2019 is this:

Write more. It's good for the soul.

So that's what I plan on doing.

Happy new year!

Dear Sonshine

Dear Sonshine Academy, 

Last week our 5 year old daughter graduated from you. Today is her last day to be a student with you. She is no longer a Pre-K'er.

(Sidenote: Whoa.)

Yes, our oldest daughter is growing up and let me tell you, we're not sad about this at all. Nope. Not at all. Not in the least. And if you believe this, I also have some ocean front property in Arizona you might be interested in.

Norah was thrilled about this picture too. Promise. 

It feels like the time she spent with you guys zoomed by at light speed. I mean just absolutely flew. The craziest part of it all: Maddie was only a student there one full school year, even though it feels like it was so very much longer. But man, the growing up that we all did during that school year there was unreal. The tender care you guys gave to not just Maddie but both our daughters, and the encouragement and support all the time is something we will never forget.

We came to you guys last August a little worried, a little apprehensive, a little tentative considering some of the issues we had been through with the last school Maddie attended. But all those fears quickly subsided and the amount of growth and progress she's shown in the year we spent with you frankly brings tears to our eyes. 

We know there were plenty of times along the way where things maybe seemed like a bit much for her to handle and Maddie decided she'd rather sit this one out. Animals she didn't want to pet or see. Big noisy firetrucks. And yeah, maybe she was the only one who didn't want to wear her mortarboard during graduation last week. But you guys never forced her to do something she didn't want and loved on her anyway. For the awesome little kid that she is. And we can't tell you how much that means to us.

So thanks to you, Sonshine Academy. Thank you, Mrs. Nan. For reasons we don't understand and probably never will, but the compassion you've shown Maddie has been a game changer. Thank you Sarah and Carolyn, for all your hard work this school year and the gospel-centered love you've shown to our big kid.

Thank you for causing two parents with so many anxieties about a 5-year old like ours to be able to breathe a little bit, if only for five hours a day.

Please know you will always have a special place with us. Always.

What Ranger Baseball Means To Me

You all will have to grant me a little levity for this rather 4th grade book report title sounding blog post, but it's the morning after another particularly soul-crushing loss by your Texas Rangers and I feel the need to vent a little bit. 

Before we get into all that: Hey! How's it going? Long time no see, huh? We've been pretty busy with new jobs and t-ball games now and just generally watching our children grow up before our very eyes. So, you know, normal stuff. 

But I chose this subject matter today because often times I think back to an earlier point in my life as a sports fan, where I miss the days of not caring whether my team made it to the playoffs. I didn't care about things like winning the division or clinching home field advantage throughout the playoffs - all I cared about was whether we won or lost that day. Each day was like a little miniature Game 7 of the World Series to me. 

Then there are times when I reminisce about not caring about sports at all. When all that mattered to me was how long I would have to sit in the backseat of my parents light blue Oldsmobile 98 listening to Christopher Cross sing "Sailling" while on my way to swim lessons. 

There were two times in my life both of those feelings reached peak emotional levels at the same time for me: One was in Game 6, 2011 World Series, and the other was last night. The only reason last year's ALDS exit at the hand of the Blue Jays and Jose Bautista isn't also a part of that list is that I was at work at the time and was distracted by my job thankfully.

But last night....

I'm not so much sad over losing, because with the way that series had gone if the game remained tied into extra innings it was almost a foregone conclusion for me. But the way that team played, and lost - badly - is what really sticks in my craw. Best record in the American League? Didn't mean squat. Home fiend advantage? Didn't mean squat. Didn't feel like squat either what with two home games in the middle of the day at home that nobody cared about or watched on television because they were in the middle of the day.

What it did mean was that our pitching, and our hitting, both failed us at the absolute worst time. Sure there were red flags up about the shortcomings of our pitching all throughout the month of September, but the offensive disappearance was pretty ugly and deflating at the same time. If you had to pick an MVP of a series that you lost, it'd probably be Alex Claudio. Or maybe Matt Bush for basically telling the rest of the team last night, "hey since the rest of you guys can't pitch worth a crap just leave this to me."

So there it goes. Like a floater in the toilet bowl, another season flushed down the drain. 

And really, as much as I have just ranted and raved about what this season means to me, I think Mel and I would both agree that we're more sad for our 3-year old who had to wake up this morning to the news that there's no more Rangers to watch this year. No more going to the ballpark. No more Ian Desmond (her favorite). She probably doesn't understand all that right now. Plus we can still watch other games or MLB Network as much as we want to or will let her. But until next April, it's all over for her and for us. 

There's a guy I follow on Twitter for TCU related sports tweets who is a big Red Sox fan, and I think it's the 2004 World Series he's made mention of going in and waking his son or daughter up to watch the final out. This is something that I've dreamed about being able to do with our girls one day and how it would play out. Would I run in screaming like a mad man? Would I sneak in quietly and just kind of scoop them up out of bed and carry them out to the TV half asleep? 

Would they be 21 and in college, wanting to know why their Dad was calling to bug them so late because they're busy hanging out with their way cooler friends? 

Who knows.

But for now, it'll have to wait. Again.

that post where I'm emotional about The Ballpark

I'd be naive to think this was never going to happen.  I knew it would come at some point.  But I really didn't think it would happen so soon.  Gut reaction is I'm sad.  I know the new park will be all new and cool and "oh hey man, there's a roof and AC and everything."  But to borrow a page from my 3 year old's handbook "noooooooo, I don't wanna!"   

Ok, sure.  Some of you are telling me to grow up, and deal with it.  It's just a Ballpark.  But you see, to me, it's not just a ballpark.  It's the spot where ten years ago, I first met my husband.  Poof - blown up.  It's the place where we had our wedding reception.  Poof - blown up.  It's the park where I met some incredible people.  It's where my kids, especially my oldest, developed a passion and love for the game that I dare say rivals almost any other 3 year old out there - it's where she even had her birthday party a month ago. I know there will be new memories and milestones and traditions created somewhere a few hundred yards to the southwest.  But my gut reaction is I'm sad.  And don't tell me I'm not allowed to be.

October 2008

March 21, 2009

opening day 2010

October 2010

my sporty parental units

sports sally

me being the bet Aunt ever, September 2011

39 weeks pregnant with Madeline

Madeline's first game June 15, 2013

Norah's first game May 2, 2015

my people

Fan Fest January 23, 2016

Opening Day - April 6, 2016

and I mean, this happened at the Ballpark - May 15, 2016

Norah

This was originally supposed to be posted on Norah's first birthday, which was like three weeks ago now. Unfortunately, life kind of happened and we got busy. So with today being National Siblings Day and all that jazz, I figured now would be as good a time as any. Better late than never, right?

It was the middle of March 2015.

Mel was pregnant. Very pregnant. And we were getting antsy. Her due date had come and gone without any kind of great fanfare. At one point Mel's doctor changed the due date by like three days. He still didn't think this would be that late an arrival for baby number two, and from knowing what we know about how childbirth goes the second time around, I wouldn't say we were overly concerned about how long things were taking. So we went ahead and packed up some hospital bags so that way as soon as things started to happen, we'd be ready to go.

And then, we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited

And waited some more.

And some more.

And then waited some more after that. Five days later, still no baby.

And then at about 10 PM (Editor's note: I'm sure as the years go on the time and weather conditions for this tale will alter dramatically. By 2030 it may be almost midnight in the middle of a hurricane) on the night of March 20th, Mel started having contractions. Yes! It's time. We woke Maddie up, dropped her off at my parents, and knowing this would be one of the last meals we would eat outside of a hospital room for a little while, did what all married couples on the way to the hospital to have a baby do and stopped to get some Whataburger. It was delicious, I'd be lying if I didn't say that the fact that we would be welcoming a brand new baby girl into our arms soon made it taste that much better.

Then we got to the hospital. This is where the fun begins.

Our regular doctor was not on call this particular weekend, and since Mel wasn't dilated enough yet to to start doing some pushing or anything - guess what? More waiting. All the while the contractions she was suffering through were getting closer and closer together.

But, nope.

Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. Do not get a baby.

Before I go any further, I should issue a brief side commentary about things at this point: As you can imagine, this sucked. Like this really, really sucked. This really sucked for both of us, but mainly for Mel. I'm not even exaggerating anything by telling you that I've never felt a more terrible amount of sympathy for a human being than I did for her that night, in that examination room, waiting for something - anything - to happen.

Now, it's after midnight. And we're both tired. Tired of nothing happening, tired of looking around at the same stupid room we've been in for awhile now, tired of the clock on the wall seeming to tick by slower.......and slower.........and.........slow........er......with every second.

Finally, after calling the on-call doctor for the weekend and conferring, a nurse finally came in sometime after 2 o'clock in the morning to tell us "sorry, there's nothing we can do for you tonight" and sent us home.

Really.

Just like that. Welp, see ya later.

On what I like to refer to as the "Drive Of Shame" on the way home, we needlessly stopped at a Walmart in the wee hours of the morning looking for some pain relieving medication in hopes it might ease some of Mel's pain. Yeah that didn't work out too well.

Back at home now, tired and angry and over emotional about the world, we both tried to find some way to get some sleep. More importantly, Mel had to find a way to get some rest with contractions occurring every two minutes.

Then finally, at about 6 AM the following morning we both decided, screw this crap. We're going back to that dang hospital and pushing out a baby. Today.

Thankfully, at this point all systems were go, and in early afternoon - we were blessed with this tiny little bundle of joy you see below:

So uh, hey we have two kids now! Both of them technically toddlers! How is this possible?

Its been said that going from a one child to a two child house causes you to change your defensive alignment: You go from a zone defense to man to man. This is very true in our case, although with the schedules we both have at times it's hard to even play a solid defense when Maddie and Norah are at their worst best and one of us are not.

A day with both of these girls up and on the go can be..........I don't know.......you pick an adjective. Exhausting. Frustrating. Hilarious? Yes, all of the above. But one of the biggest joys we get in life is from watching these two little girls learn, play, laugh, and grow up together.

Happy belated birthday, little girl. You are such a blessing to all of our lives.

That's The Way Potty Training Go

Say, is that my old pal John? 

Yes.

Well I'll be! How ya doin' old chap? 

Good.

How was your Christmas? Did you have a nice holiday? 

Yep.

Whaddya think about this weather? Been a pretty mild winter so far, dontcha think?

Um, yep.

So what's new? Read any good books lately? 

Stop it.

How about this election? Trump or Cruz? Bernie Sanders and Hilary? Boy, oh boy!

I said, stop.

So by now you're probably wondering, "Hey John, where ya been all this time?" Well the short answer to that is life. Life is where we've been. I still work odd hours, Mel has her hours at the salon, and when we're not parenting and our house is actually quiet it's nice to just plop down on the couch and forget about everything, let alone updating a blog. Maybe watch a little Netflix. Right now, we're on Mad Men. Did you know there were 3,000,000,000 people in the world in 1960 and according to this show approximately 2,995,000,000 of them smoked. That's the highlight I've taken out of this show so far.

Anyway, I digress.

Recently, we had decided it was time to start potty training with Maddie. We'd been receiving reports that she's been staying pretty dry in her diapers at school throughout most of the day, and after doing research on a particular method which involves a hardcore three-day regiment of strict potty training - we decided to give it a shot. This was not without its trials right from the get-go, however, as Maddie was dealt a pretty nasty case of pink eye and an equally annoying yet somewhat less unsightly ear infection at the same time. Turned out it wasn't really that much of a factor as far as effectiveness for the potty training aspect of it goes, but boy there were times when we had to tread lightly and struggle to keep disease from spreading around like wildfire.

Let's begin.

Day 1: Much of what we've read said in the first day of this three day period you should expect a lot of accidents. In anticipation of this, we loaded the house down with cleaning supplies, wipes, paper towels, and also Lysol to avoid any outbreaks of the aforementioned pink eye malady. We had potty seats on both toilets, upstairs and downstairs, and a portable seat in case of a sneak attack bladder evacuation while watching television or while we were outside. Mel also came prepared, and we were fully stocked with at least 20 pairs of panties stocked and ready to go.

We got Maddie up and started the day with her as we would any other, but made a bigger deal this time around when we took off her diaper and put on some big girl panties instead. I think there was even a ceremonial reading of this book, which has quickly skyrocketed to the top of her own personal Amazon Best Seller list. We then sat her on the toilet and gave her specific instructions to let Mommy or Daddy know when she had to go potty. I don't remember if she went or not that first time, but it was a bit of a struggle getting her to do so as you would imagine.

The first success of the day occurred later in the afternoon after I had left for work. It came complete with letting Mel know a pee was about to happen, escorting her to the bathroom, and doing the deed on the potty (followed by a token of our appreciation for being a big girl and doing a good job - one Nutter Butter). I wasn't around but I'm pretty sure there were trumpets and at least one verse of the Hallelujah Chorus that broke out.

Day 2: The day, as I recall, went mostly smooth. We did have a few accidents - one of which involved me stepping out of the room to get something leaving a dry Maddie by herself with some toys for a moment, and then returning to said room only to find a Lake Michigan of urine forming on the floor.

Still, it did start to noticeably get better as the day went on. Even though Maddie was still trying to get the hang of letting us know when she needed to go before it got too late, when we did stick her on the toilet it was beginning to flow a lot smoother than it had the day before.

(Editors note: Stop. No more potty jokes.)

Day 3: By day number three, a Sunday, we were a lot less apprehensive about Maddie sans diaper. To reward her for the hard work she had put in up to this point, and because it was practically 90 degrees in January, we let her run around with the hose in the backyard in her bathing suit. We still instructed her to tell us when she needed to go, but obviously weren't as concerned about it if she did.

I think we may have still had at least one accident this day, but by this point it was just one of those things. It wasn't until a week later that Maddie had her first accident of the #2 variety, and it was a messy one. Gotta crack a few eggs to make an omelet, and all that good stuff.

And so, here we are 3.5 weeks later or so, feeling pretty good about things. Maddie's gotten much better about telling us when she needs to go, although we still remind her all the time to let us (or Yiayia, or Oma, or her teacher, or someone of some level of authority who is or will be watching over her) know when she needs to use the potty.

Conclusion: The three day method of potty training definitely seems to have done its charm. I don't know how many other rigorous, clandestine methods of training there are for this sort of thing but if there are any parents who have yet to cross this bridge in the life of their child and are looking for suggestions of things to try and help them along (sidenote: You're a fool. I would feed my child cereal every day if I could. Why are you reading one of my blog posts. Go look at something else my wife posted and stuff.) I'll post the links to the references we used below.

“It’s been said that adults spend the first two years of their children’s lives trying to make them walk and talk, and the next sixteen years trying to get them to sit down and shut up. It’s the same way with potty training: Most adults spend the first few years of a child’s life cheerfully discussing pee and poopies, and how important it is to learn to put your pee-pee and poo-poo in the potty like big people do. 

But once children have mastered the art of toilet training, they are immediately forbidden to ever talk about poop, pee, toilets and other bathroom-related subjects again. Such things are now considered rude and vulgar, and are no longer rewarded with praise and cookies and juice boxes. 

One day you’re a superstar because you pooped in the toilet like a big boy, and the next day you’re sitting in the principal’s office because you said the word “poopy” in American History class (which, if you ask me, is the perfect place to say that word).” 

― Dav Pilkey, Captain Underpants And The Preposterous Plight Of The Purple Potty People

Hopping The Potty Train: The 3 Day Method / PB&J Babes Link
How To Potty Train Your Toddler In Three Days / Project Potty Training Link

Moving on

Mel and I, we like where we've been living. It's been fun. Not "a Saturday at Six Flags where there's no lines and you can ride every ride as many times as you want" kind of fun, but more like a "opening up a pack of baseball cards and out of the 20 of them inside the pack 19 of them are worthless but one of them is a Mike Trout rookie card." kind of fun. Did that even make sense? No? Okay.

Anyway, somewhere along the line we had decided we would like to move out of our house before Maddie is elementary school age. It's not that the area is terrrrrrrrible, and no offense to any educators in the Arlington school district because I'm very certain you all do a fabulous job molding the minds of the youth of America. But, we really wanted to move to an area with better schools.

Then we heard about what we could potentially get for selling, and decided to strike while the preverbal iron was hot. And that's where we are today. We close on this house, the first house we've ever lived in, on Monday. We're moving out of here sometime next week.

It hasn't been without its fair share of stress and drama and all that comes with the territory of selling a house. Getting a brand new roof, among other things, has a tendency to do that to a person. But we know that a house is simply a house, and it doesn't make a difference if it's your first, your last, or anywhere in-between. "Home is where the heart is" and all that jazz - the only true home should, and always will be, the one we all are anticipating getting to one day when we leave our earthly bodies behind.

But that being said, I've gotten pretty sentimental lately thinking about some of the memories we've made here, first and foremost with our two beautiful daughters we brought home from the hospital.

(Sidenote: Good Lord we both look tired in this picture.)

(Another sidenote: Sorry for you being completely blinded in this pic, Maddie.)

We didn't get any pics taken outside of the house when Norah was brought home, but I remember the days in complete contrast to one another. A grey, overcast day thanks to a cold front blowing through the day before on the day Maddie came home, and a bright, sunny and warm early afternoon when Norah got here.

Other things/moments that I will miss about our house:

- Having easy access to the park. A quick 5 minute stroll through our neighborhood would spit us out inside the park right on the trail. It also caused a plethora of wildlife to migrate into our neighborhood from time to time, including but not limited to turtles, raccoons, possums, armadillo, turkeys, bobcats, and coyotes. None of our dogs were ever maimed by any of these things, thank goodness, although Lacy did try to eat a grasshopper once.

- Having easy access to the Ballpark. Leaving games after the final out (which we don't really get to do anymore anyway) and making it home 10 minutes later. And Sunday afternoon nap time when there's a home game just won't be the same.

While we're on the subject of the great game (I told you we like baseball in this family, didn't I. Well we do.) October 27th, 2011. I get nauseous just bringing up that date and may have just thrown up a little inside my mouth. Mel wasn't here for that game because she was in St. Louis at the scene of the crime (and is now subsequently scarred for life). I sat in a dark living room after the conclusion of that game, the warming glow of the television long since ceased, and pondered my existence. Not exactly one of the greatest moments to have ever occurred inside these walls.

Moving on.

- I will miss the quiet times. Obviously those are few and far between now. But in the sporadic occasions when it does happen on a Saturday when Mel's at work and both girls are asleep, and I don't feel like watching anything on TV, one of my favorite things to do is Keurig up some coffee, fire up Spotify (usually some kind of Neoclassical new-age, post-rock, minimal music like Balmorhea, Sigur Rós, or something like that), and relax on the couch by the window in our living room with nothing across the street except a big open field of park land. Just me and the planes taking off and landing not very far away.

- I will miss the aforementioned big, open field across the street from our house. It wasn't really great and usually got all filled up with weeds until the city came every once in a while and mowed it all over, so I'm sure that completely wrecked people with allergies. But it was fun because it was just that - a big open field that we would stare out at from our driveway, and not another house. I'm not sure how much getting used to that will take. 

- I will miss our front porch with its ample space for two rocking chairs, which admittedly I wish I had spent more time just sitting in watching it rain, hail, sleet, snow.......anything. 

I could go on and on about this, and honestly things would be a lot tougher if we were moving somewhere much further away. Out of state or something. But we'll still be in the area somewhere, which makes things a little easier. But it's hard to not look back on this place we've lived in even if it's just been for a short amount of time and get sentimental about it. 

We'll miss you, Hinsdale Drive. 

Norah

So it has come to my attention numerous times that I haven't blogged about anything in awhile. For that I owe you, the reader, my sincerest apologies. Truth be told we've been kind of busy...I work sort of weird hours now that give me free mornings to be a Dad and do whatever I want or need to around the house, and then after going to work in the afternoon and coming home at night all I really want to do is go to sleep. Occasionally that occurs after watching sports or an episode from a past season of 24 which we have been getting caught up on thanks to our local library. 

Where was I? Oh right, the main part of this all. We have two kids now. 

Meet Norah Rebecca Vittas. 

Norah was born on a Saturday, March the 21st, after one hellacious night of going to the hospital and sitting around for awhile before ultimately being sent back home because she just wasn't ready to come out, and then enduring what seemed like the longest 20 minute drive in the history of the world to get back home only to return to the hospital the following morning with one very pregnant wife in a boat load of pain. Seriously you guys, there was so much cursing. Such a large amount in fact that I almost considered saying something to Mel in an effort to calm her down. I quickly decided that would most likely not be in my best interest to do so for fear of her getting up out of her hospital bed, IV's and everything, and punching me through a wall. But she made it. I love her, and I'm very proud of her for enduring that and giving me one more beautiful daughter. 

Maddie got to meet her new little sister the following day up at the hospital. Her initial reaction could best be summarized with a simple "Meh." Not really that interested at all. But since that first week Norah has grown on her in a very big way, and now Maddie's always trying to give her kisses, feel the tiny baby hairs on her head, and just stare at amusement at this new little person. Lately she's started "helping" Mel out by handing us her empty bottle to put in the sink and such. 

"Oh, watch out for Maddie!" you say. "She's going to get so jealous!" you say. Although Maddie can be a stubborn little toddler at times and it's definitely a possibility of happening, we've also been blessed to have a very affectionate and loving kid, so if she's going to get all jealous on us hopefully it's only because she hasn't gotten a chance to hug and kiss her sister enough. 

Which brings me to my next subject: The hearing test. We tried to not make finding out what the results of Norah's test would be a big deal, and I think for the most part we accomplished that. Seeing how Maddie has been doing learning to overcome her hearing impairment has been insightful for us, and also gave us a little sense of knowing what to expect with that sort of thing. So I can't really say we would have been ready for anything, but we kind of were preparing ourselves to be. 

So Norah failed her first test. Okay, fine. Tomorrow is another day and all that. Sometimes newborns fail their first hearing test and it ends up being nothing. Of course, Maddie also failed her first test and we all know how that turned out. But then, Norah passed her second test with flying colors. Our first reaction upon hearing this news was gladness and maybe a bit of relief. But after the nurse exited the room, that's when the gravity and realness of the moment hit us. Mel and I cried and cried, because we felt so horrible being happy that Norah was able to pass her test while her sister isn't so lucky. We felt horrible, but we both know it's just the first of many circumstances like this we'll all have to get through together as a family - and I know we will. 

One last thing, because I know I have some family member out there wondering: No, we haven't taken Norah to her first game yet. 

We love you, Norah. Maddie's little sister. Our little daughter.