I either need professional help or an award for being awesome

Last night before the kids went to bed, I poured myself a beer into a glass. I like beer, have for a long time. Anyway, I set my beer down on the table to chase after a child or something. When I got back, Lilly had her face into my beer. Not "in" the beer, but right down over it. The wife noticed the evil glint in my eye and said right out, "that child can not have a sip of your beer." She knows me too well.

I thought I'd break the child of her curiosity and put some beer on my finger for her to taste. After all, no child likes the taste of beer. Certainly after she tasted a wet finger of beer, she'd realize that it's not for her, right? So I did. I dipped a finger into my beer and let her taste it.

Damn, I think I awoke the angry drunken dragon, because right after, Lilly's eyes lit up and she started saying "more more more more more!" It was as if I flipped her crazy switch to ludicrous speed. Then she upped the ante and started saying "more daddy's beer! More beer! MORE BEER!" My 20 month old baby girl was demanding that we give her more beer. I've either miserably failed at this parenting thing, or my girl has a taste for good Mexican beer. The teenage years are already shaping up to be a mess.

The First Family “Vacation” – Day Two

The second day of our mini family vacation to the coast started out with a bang. I woke up to the sounds of children chattering in their tented off baby jail cells. I heard Lilly saying "Nolan" and Nolan saying something or other. I honestly wasn't paying that much attention, as I was just waking up and it was still way too damn early in the morning to do anything other than sleep.

But then it happened. I heard something that immediately sent shivers down my spine.

"Poop." "Lilly poop."

At first this isn't that scary. Lilly is quite conscious of her bathroom issues, which I think means she's going to start breaking away from diapers soon. That's fine with me. So it's not uncommon at all for Lilly to announce when she's pooping. So at first, we're all good here.

Then the rest of it happened...

"Lilly poop....bed." "Bed....Lilly poop....bed."

This was bad. I had a bad idea about what I would find on the other side of the bedsheet separating me from certain awfulness. I pulled the curtain back and found my sweet flower of a baby girl with her hands down the backside of her diaper which had already stained the bedsheet. Before I could come up with something clever to say, she pulls her hands out and looks at her poo-covered little hands and says again, with a little more fear in her voice, "Lilly poop bed!"

I did what any responsible father would do in this moment. I woke up the wife. "Honey, you've got to help here." I don't even know why I bothered to say "help." I knew all along I was basically just waking my wife up to have her scrape shit off my baby girl at 6:30 in the morning. Fortunately for me, the negotiating power was all mine, as the child had poop on her hands and was about to go all Jackson Pollock on us, right there at the Sandollar Motel and RV Park.

The wife reported back later on (I, of course, stayed in bed and played with the boy who had not crapped all over creation) that the first attempt was to put the girl in the sink. That didn't work. Then the girl went in the bathtub. My wife commented to me that there was a point in all of this where she felt like calling whoever the "real mommie" is in this circumstance who would know what to do. That wife of mine, she's great.

So the day started off fairly potently. The rest of the day was actually fairly nice. We went back to Alice Fayes for breakfast (the door on the right, not the drinking and fighting door on the left), and then I had to go to the Rockport Public Library to study for the bar exam. While that part sorta sucked, it was at least a new experience.

All of this built up to the whole reason we came to Rockport in the first place. Our cousin was getting married. So in the evening, the wife and I along with grandma and grandpa loaded up the kids for the big evening out! They were so cute, I didn't bring my camera, so I can't upload pictures now, but trust me -- they were awesomely cute. You'd never know that Lilly had crapped her bed just 12 hours earlier! Unfortunately for us, the cuteness didn't match their attentiveness at the outdoor wedding ceremony. The wife and I spent our time chasing after the kids as one or the other, or both, ran after birds and seagulls or generally tried to drown themselves in the water fountains.

We did get pictures of the kids during day two -- here are the highlights:

They tried to make the reception happen, but it was a bit of a fail. It was past their bedtime, and Nolan had a bad case of the pushies. For those who might not know, the pushies are when Nolan walks up to other kids and shoves them on their behinds. It's not cool. He thinks it's awesome, but he's wrong.

So we packed the kids up and headed back to put them down. Then we pawned them off with grandma and grandpa and went back to the reception! A good time was had by all.

While the wife and I were standing by the water later that night, she made the comment to me, "you know, this is the first time I've been able to look out at the water and not have to worry about keeping a child from killing themselves in it." It was romantic.

The next morning we packed up and headed out. As I was packing up, I realized that we basically made bird cages for our children. We draped a sheet over their sleeping space so they wouldn't be distracted. Just like you do with a bird. Whatever, don't judge -- just write it down as the next reason why we won't be winning any parenting awards this year.

Nothing eventful on the trip back, it was essentially just the drive down in reverse. Except that we got caught in the Sunday afternoon northbound I-35 traffic between Austin and Waco. I think it says something that people who don't live in Austin come to Austin for their weekends, and nobody ever seems to be returning to Austin after the weekends are over. Gee -- I wonder why that is?

Some closing thoughts about Alice Fayes. We didn't go through "the left door" on this trip. But we've gone there before. The first time we went to Alice Fayes was four years ago for my 30th birthday. We just finished the Texas bar exam (there's a theme here with Rockport and bar exams, apparently). We just sat down in the outside waterfront bar area -- I mean we had just sat down, and we saw a woman wearing a "Playgirl" t-shirt barge through the double doors leading from the entrance, grab another woman who was on the dance floor by her hair, and throw her onto the floor by her hair. This was 100% Jerry Springer fan-tastic. It was at this point that the wife and I knew that Alice Fayes was A-OK with us. We took a picture of this woman and her boyfriend. Then we bought them a round of drinks. I tell this story not to make fun (well, not entirely), but to point out what a great place Alice Fayes is for good wholesome drinking and fighting fun. Probably not the best place for the children, but I don't think they pretend like it is.

The First Family “Vacation” – Day One

The twins are a year and a half now, and they’re doing all sorts of things that I desperately need to write about. In fact, many of the things from April and May are quickly draining from my memory as the new stuff from June and July begin to take their place. As a reminder to myself, and a promise to the four people who actually read my blog, I promise to follow up on these things. However, that’s not what this post is about.

We’re on our first family vacation. Well…not technically our first vacation, but it’s our first vacation that requires a long drive. We’re in Rockport, Texas. Rockport is a small fishing town about 30 miles north of Corpus Christi. It’s about a seven to eight hour drive from Dallas if you go straight through. If you know where Port Aransas is, then you’re within spitting distance of Rockport. Anyway, one of our cousins is getting married and they’re doing it up proper down here at the coast. So months and months ago, the wife and I penned it on the calendar that we’d spend a few days with the kids down here. We were looking forward to it. Right up until I realized that the Florida bar exam I volunteered to take for work fell the week after this weekend. There’s nothing like the specter of a stomach-cramp-inducing mental fuck of an exam to throw a wet blanket over your vacation. But I digress…

The word vacation brings up all sorts of images in the minds of those who hear the word. Beaches, laughter, fine dining, nice hotels, etc. That’s not what this is. I’m going to call this a “vacation”. If I was talking to you in person, I’d do the word vacation in those annoying air quotes that would make you want to punch me in the ballbag.

Before I go much farther, I need to do some clarifying. I’m going to say things about where we’re on vacation that might not sound like I love this place. I’m going to say things about where we’re staying that would make you think it’s a roach motel. Neither thought would be true. I love coming to Rockport. It’s one of my favorite places on earth. I love staying at the Sandollar motel and trailer park. I love it. Yes this place is a bit redneckish, and yes it’s not the Four Seasons, but that’s part of why I love it here. It’s more like the One Seasons. And that one season is balls hot and coastal humid with a chance of mosquitoes that look like birds, but that’s part of the charm.

So here we go. Wife and I got the car packed up the night before we left (Wednesday night). Thursday morning we scrambled to get everything in order so we could be on the road by 8:30. Unfortunately, we hit a snag in the drop off for the dog at the dog impound yard. So we really didn’t get on the road until about 9:15. So be it, I can make up a 45 minute delay over a long road trip, no problem!

At this point, the children are dyno-mite! Jimmy Walker style. They’re cooperating, sleeping as planned in the car, and in general being awesome. Everything is going swimmingly. The plan is that we’ll meet my sister and her fiancée in Austin around noon, have lunch, let the kids run like crazy, and then continue the trip to the coast. Given our delay, our plan to meet at noon is now a plan to meet at one. No bother, we’re still on pace to get to the coast in the early evening. The road trip is punctuated by the sheer joy of having my wife quiz me on the grounds for which you may obtain a divorce in the State of Florida for my upcoming test. By the way, a Florida Court will grant a divorce if the marriage is irretrievably broken, but might order counseling or grant a continuance if it appears from the facts or the parties that there might be a chance of reconciliation. That won’t be on the test. It won’t be on the test because I know it now, and that’s the way it works. They’ll ask me about the grounds to execute a hostile takeover of a closely held corporation that’s insolvent and incorporated in Nebraska. You just watch. Fuck I hate bar exams. I’m totally getting off track.

So we arrive in Austin around one, have lunch, meet with my sister and future brother in steplaw or whatever he’ll be, and let the kids run around this park for about an hour. Totally fun! Then we packed it all back up and hit the road for the coast. Kids are zonked; we’re not quite out of Austin before they’re down for the count again.

We rolled into the greater Fulton/Rockport area around 6. On any normal day, the routine is that the kids eat dinner around 5:30 and they’re usually asleep by 7:15. The time they go to sleep has been one of the great blessings of our children at this point. The kids are almost always sound asleep before 8 and they usually sleep until sometime between 6 and 7 o’clock in the morning.

Needless to say, this wasn’t a normal day. After being crammed into their car seats for 7+ hours, they weren’t even sorta interested in sleeping. So they played and ran around the room and giggled until almost 9. Eventually we had to put them down for the night.

This is where the comedy really starts. About three months ago, when the wife and I were planning our trip, we thought “oh hey, we can put the kids in the same room with us if we just put up a screen or divider between them and us”. We thought wrong. Terribly wrong. As I was setting up the kids cribs and creatively “engineering” the system of screening the kids from the rest of the room, I started to realize what a massive fail I was getting into.

So the kids spent about an hour figuring out how to pull the sheets down. This was helpful to me because I could out child proof the kids once I knew their strategy. Yes, I’m gloating about out strategizing a pair of 20 month old toddlers. You’re damn right I’m gloating about it.

Eventually they did go to sleep. Of course, that left the wife and I talking very quietly and watching the TV on closed captioning out of nail-biting fear that we might wake the animals in their cages. Not quite the best way to start a “vacation”. The good news is that if the kids went to sleep around 10, and they usually go to sleep around 7, then certainly they’d sleep until like…..9….10 in order to make up for it, right?

Parenting tip: Your children will wake up whenever they damn well feel like it, and it’s inversely related to when they went to sleep.

Friday morning came early. As you can see in the earlier picture, there’s a bed right next to the crib jail. That’s where I was sleeping. About way-too-fucking-early-thirty in the morning I hear the following occurring on the other side of the sheet.

“Nolan? Nolan?” followed by “hi”.

I peeled my sleep-crusted eyes open enough to see Lilly pull back her sheet and poke her head out at me. She looked right at me and said “Hi”. She might as well have yelled “Get out of bed, it’s freaking GO TIME!” When I uncurled enough to check what time it was, I saw it was 6:15 in the morning. “Vacation” is not starting out like a vacation. Remember – think air quotes.

Due to a severe case of laziness, we didn’t manage to get the children dressed and ready to go to breakfast until 8:30 or so. Before breakfast, we decided that we should let the kids go out on the balcony to enjoy the view of the ocean. We didn't realize that the balcony rail was the launching pad of death. Look at this unassuming railing. Then notice that the bottom rail is perfect infant standing height. Now consider that the whole thing isn't that high. The kids were constantly leaning over the edge, which I thought was funny. Wife wasn't as amused. Maybe I was just delirious from the lack of sleep because as I write this I'm sorta thinking this was a big deal.





In any event, we hung out outside until Lilly decided to throw her milk sippy over the edge. Leaning over the railing in anticipation of certain death -- OK! Throwing a 3 dollar sippy cup over the edge -- grounds for the end of "fun time".


We had a great big breakfast at a local dive bar/restaurant called Alice Fayes. It’s in the picture; it's the large red barn looking building. It's a doublewide with a really well engineering roofing system that makes it look fancy. It’s a good place to go at night if you’re looking for a fight or a rash that won’t wash off. But it’s also the best greasy spoon in the greater Fulton/Rockport area for breakfast. It has two doors – drinkin and fightin is on the left, good wholesome family food is on the right.

By the time we got back, momma and daddy were whipped…badly. And it was only about 9:45. At this time we were ready to sell the children for a nap. We had to figure out how to wear the kids out. We had to beat them. Not physically beat them, but win the challenge for familial superiority. So we hit the pool.

I’ll save you the play-by-play on the pool. Needless to say, it was a huge win! Somewhere between the adventure of something new and the learning experience of discovering that you can’t breathe water, the children wore down like a too-old sneaker. We got them out of the pool, back to the room, and then found out that “swim diapers” are only true in the “swim” part of it as we watched Lilly pee on the floor while wearing her supposed “diaper.” (sorry Sandollar Motel and Trailer Park, but my kid peed on your floor). Then we got them fed and down for a nap. After about an hour of doing the sheet game keeping their view properly obstructed, they slept. Then daddy slept. Check that -- daddy slept after he studied about what qualifies under the homestead exemption from forced sale under the Florida State Constitution. It's a half acre in incorporated areas or up to 160 acres in unincorporated areas, but if you own 180 acres of Florida swamp then those last 20 acres is all that won't be subject to the exemption assuming you don't abandon your homestead which is subject to a whole host of factual considerations. "Vacation” isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

The afternoon turned this bleak day of exhaustion and misery into something really fun. Like I mentioned before, we were here for a cousin’s wedding. Her pre-marriage party was in the afternoon on the beach. The kids haven’t ever been to the beach before, so this was a treat! The kids woke up happy, daddy woke up less grumpy than before nap, and we hit the road for the short drive to the Rockport Beach area. It’s a bay protected beach, so the waves aren’t

tremendous, so this place is perfect for the kids.
















They marched right on down to the water. Lilly was shy about the waves at first, but warmed to the whole scene pretty quickly.






Nolan got distracted by the birds and kept chasing after them. It was a lovely afternoon. The kids got doted on by their more distant family that they don’t really ever see, and daddy got to drink free beer. In case you don’t know, free beer is the best beer available today on the market at any price.

Nighttime came late for the kids, but it wasn’t nearly as traumatic as the night before. Day one of our “vacation” started out a little rocky, but straightened itself out fairly well. Day two is still ongoing, but it starts with a bang! Story is in process, will post later!