Thursday, April 29, 2010

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Eleven Thirty a.m.

It is eleven thirty
In fifteen minutes my assistant and I have to be at
Preschool
To pick up my assistant’s sister
If we were at home
We would have to leave
We aren’t at home though
We are at the thrift shop
My assistant and I go to the thrift shop once a week
Things have gotten so bad financially
That it is the only place I can afford to
Window shop
But I can’t afford to spend too much time there
Because my assistant, old coffee mugs, thirty year old Christmas decorations, and
Senior citizens
Can only co-exist so long before
Something gets broken
Or someone invades my personal space
So I never budget much time for the thrift shop
Which is why I frequently find myself in the situation in which I find myself now
Standing in the thrift shop parking lot
At eleven thirty
Wondering if it is worth it
To risk being late
For a ten percent chance of buying a ceramic elephant
Or a grab bag of toddler clothes

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Ten Thirty a.m.

Just two steps
Two small steps
If you’re six feet tall
Two big steps if you’re two feet tall, but
He is completely unfazed
The smile comes out when he reaches the top
Even though his knees are slightly bent and
Both hands are firmly pressed against the wall and
His body language would indicate that
He is poised on the edge of a cliff as
He painstakingly turns himself to face out into open carpet
It makes me think of the guy who walked from one
World Trade Center tower to the other
That guy was French
My son isn’t French, and although
He doesn’t speak English, and
He betrays more than a hint of attitude as
He seeks eye contact with me
Right before he walks off the edge,
He’s not seeking to avoid a collision with the ground, but
Falls face first onto the carpet
Convulsing with laughter

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Eight Fifty Six a.m.

Shit
We’ve got to go
Now
And his diaper is full of shit
Shit number two of the morning

He always has two
Or at least as of today
He always has two

There is no such thing as always
Without qualifiers
At least
Not any more

Nothing is without qualifiers anymore
Starting with the phrase
We are ready to go

We were ready to go
As long as no one had a poop in his diaper

Two pairs of shoes were on
Two jackets were on
Beverages were in hand or in the car or both
The book bag was in the car
Dolly was in hand
No one was screaming and
We were all on our way down the stairs to the car

We were going to make it to pre-school for the daily drop off on time for once
As long as someone had no shit in their diaper

Shit 

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Seven Thirty a.m.

Most mornings
It feels as if we are a football team
Platooning quarterbacks
And anybody who knows football
Knows that platooning quarterbacks is a bad idea
You use two quarterbacks only if you don’t really have one
And even then it is a mistake

It certainly isn’t always like that
Sometimes we work together
Like a good doubles team
Maybe the Bryan brothers

Other times we’re the Detroit Red Wings under Scotty Bowman
Executing stunning shift changes

I’m not a baseball fan
But someone who could stomach watching a whole game
Could even watch us during certain moments
And find himself remembering the handoff between
A setup man and a closer
Maybe Jeff Nelson and Mariano Rivera
And if baseball is your thing
Please picture me as Mariano

My image of choice
If I was me focused
Would be a White Chocolate pass off of his elbow
To whomever
But I’m a team man
So I aspire for the two of us to be Isaiah and Joe D.
And despite the whole Knicks mess
I still want to be Zeke

At 7:30 on most weekday mornings
I fall pretty far short of Zeke
Even the one that is now coaching at Florida International
I think it is safe to say
We often fall short of all of our aspirations

She is almost always yet to leave for work
Filling up coffee mugs
And locating car keys
Amidst a deluge of cheerios
And tears
Which unlike the cheerios
Could be coming from anyone and anywhere

Sometimes everyone wants to say goodbye
At once
In loud voices
At the open door
Or even in the driveway

And sometimes no one wants to say goodbye
Which could mean lots of screaming and pleading
Or could mean that I am fighting to keep everyone within sight and off of the stairs
And off of the table
And off of the cat
And off of each other

And when it is like that
It isn’t clear who is calling the plays
And doesn’t really matter most of the time
Since we are stuck in another winning strategy
The prevent defense

Friday, April 16, 2010

Six a.m.

“Why are there
So many
Songs about rainbows …

It’s five three five …

My babies are all here
Sarah
If you want to go to Bubble-top’s house
You have to ask your daddy
He’s with baggy right now …

It’s five three nine …

Que Tiempo
Que Tiempo
What’s the weather like today
Is it snowing
Is it raining
Is it baining
Staining
Laining
Maining
Goofy oofy spoofy …

It’s five four three …

Hi Grandma
It’s good to talk to you too
I’m asleep right now
Are you asleep
I went to the beach with Daddy and Wyeth
There were no bathrooms
So we drove to a dirty one
And ate at Burger King
Wyeth spit out a nugget when he fell out of his chair
He had sand everywhere …

It’s five four eight …

La la la
La la la la la la la
La la la
La la la la la la la
La la la la la
I am a poor boy
I have a story told
I made some excuses
And some mumbles
La la la …

It’s five five one …

Mary had a little lamb
Her fleece was pink as pinky pink pink …

It’s five five four …

I see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that’s why I love you …

Daddy it’s six
Daddy it’s six
Time to get up
It’s six Daddy
Daddy it’s six!
It’s six!!
It’s six!!!
Six!!!!
Daddy it’s six!!!!!
Daddy!!!!!!” 

Wednesday, April 07, 2010

Shhhhhhh

Now that he says “poopoo”
We’re clearly in double digits for words
And
Since he says it while exhibiting a textbook stinky face,
Perhaps even a board book stinky face,
We’ve also witnessed our first completely summed up event
And
While it is true that a scrunched up face and the word “poopoo” don’t do it justice
I’m willing to cut him some slack
Since
I’ll have plenty of time to tell him all about how much stinkier his poops were than his sisters
Or
Than any other poop I’ve ever run across
And
If I wait long enough
I will be able to use words that more accurately describe the experience
And
So will he

Monday, April 05, 2010

Routine

She rarely says more than
“dad, read”
The volume varies
As does the tone
And the frequency
But every time I fall asleep
As I am reading her stories before nap
She wakes me up
With some variation of
“dad, read”
And I do
Whether I’m falling asleep in the midst of reading a short book
Or a long one
Whether I am forcing my eyes to stay open in the rocking chair
Where we always read the first two stories
Or in the bed where we read the other three
And regardless of what mess
Wyeth is making
Although when he melts down I am allowed to put him to sleep
But I always resume exactly where I left off
And I never leave when I melt down
At least not for more than a minute
And never sleep more than a few seconds
And never start reading before I know which stuffed animals and dollies are in the bed
And which aren’t
If there is no Blue Baa Baa
Or no Baggy
There will be no nap
And if there are no stories
Neither one of us will be good company at dinner
So when she says “dad read”
I read

Easter Poem

This Easter I’m ready to move beyond Jesus

This year at 10:00
We had
Several dozen plastic Easter eggs
Two sets of bunny ears
Two hand woven pastel baskets
Raisins
Chocolate Cheerios
Fruity Cheerios
Gerber Graduates banana puffs
A few strips of grass untouched by the backhoe that dug up our backyard last fall
A sunny Sunday morning
Temperatures in the mid to high 60s
One video camera
One old digital camera
Two children
Lots of squealing and screaming
And only a few scrapes

It was pretty profound, involved little dressing up on my part, was easily captured for posterity, and no one mentioned sin or evil

And did I mention the bunny ears?