Dammit, Man.

I had hoped to have before and after pictures of the house for every little thing I did.  But Karla quickly responded with a firm and unequivocal "NO".

We have since come to a compromise; I could take all the pictures I wanted --- then submit them for the wife's approval.  Pfft.....Whatever.....Fine.

The Bathroom: Needless to say the bathroom is completely off limits for pictures.  I find that disappointing since I felt no one would appreciate a picture of a clean bathtub unless they had witnessed the nasty mess it was before.  But, since I know it's pointless to argue, I'm going to have to ask you to use your imagination.  Or, in most cases, if you are a single man with your own place just go into your bathroom and look at the bathtub.  You see all that grimy nastiness caked onto your tub?  Yup, that's what I tried to clean.

First off, I should have read the directions for the product I was attempting to use on the tub.  On the back of the bottle of Lime-A-Way it clearly states, in bold letters WEAR RUBBER GLOVES.  Further down the bottle, also in big bold letters is the word DANGER: Contains sulfamic acid.

This would explain why my ungloved hands were burning afterwards.  What really sucked about the whole rotten endeavor was that the tub looked no cleaner than when I started.  I put in a lot of elbow grease and got absolutely no where.  Well, I wouldn't say no where; I did see streaks that proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that the bathtub was once, in fact, white.

Which leads me to wonder why bathtubs are made white in the first place.  Why don't the manufacturers make more brown or black bathtubs that hide the scum?  That way, like a carpet, a lazy ass like me can happily continue my blissful ignorance thanks to the power of camouflage.  "Nope, doesn't look dirty......Let's move on."

But, no, I got the white bath tub and wood floors.  So I get to relive this joy on an almost daily basis.

I found out later that Lime-A-Way is not used for the bathtub; Karla uses a product call The Works.  While The Works does not advise that I use gloves, it still comes with a precautionary statement about eye and skin irritations.  I believe I will look for an alternative, a natural way, to clean the bathroom.

So, on to the next disaster.

The Spaghetti Fiasco:  Cooking spaghetti seems simple enough; pretty straight forward, wouldn't you think?  Yeah, right.

I went to the store to pick up what I needed for supper that evening.  But instead of getting the traditional flavor Prego I opted to try a new flavor.  I got a jar of Italian sausage and garlic.

So when I started supper everything went well enough.  The hamburger (very greasy, I might add.....blech) cooked up fine and the water was boiling for the spaghetti noodles.  Everything went downhill after that.

First off, I didn't plan on the Italian sausage sauce to be thicker than the original.  I quickly realized I didn't have enough sauce for the hamburger I cooked.  Fortunately, I found a half a can of traditional Prego and mixed it in.  Unfortunately, my concoction was still a thick, meaty, mass......Crap.  It will just have to do.

The water came to a boil and I open the package of spaghetti noodles.  Without thinking I just dumped that whole thing into the pot.  What I didn't take into consideration was the pot I was using wasn't big enough for the three pounds of noodles that I just dumped into it.  (I didn't realize I had that many noodles until I read the label afterwards.)

So I ended up with about a half a package of noodles just sitting on top of the pot. Now, any rationally thinking person would just remove the extra and save it for another time.  Instead, the cooking neophyte panicked.  I took my wooden spoon and smashed the noodles, forcing them to fit into the pot.

Yes sir, if there were ever an Iron Chef competition between me an the Muppet Show's Swedish Chef, I fear the Swede would kick my ass.....OOOMM, Bort-Bort!!!!!

For a moment I was pleased; I got all the noodles to fit.  But there were two things that I didn't take into account.  First, noodles expand, and panic mode returned when I saw the noodles expanding over the top of the boiling pot.  Second, when I crammed the noodles into the pot, the noodles at the bottom burned and stuck to the surface of said pot.

I was losing control of the situation.  I wedged my wooden spoon into the pot and attempted to stir.  I grimaced as I could feel the noodles, a lot of noodles, stuck to the bottom of the pot.

So I resorted to constantly stirring the noodles to keep the those on the bottom from burning.  Making matters worse, the noodles at the top of the pot still weren't cooked.  This is where I perfected my flip and stir technique.  It splattered boiling water everywhere; and I did get burnt a couple of times, but I managed to cook all of the noodles.  I was pleased, disaster averted ------ until I tried to pour the noodles into the colander.

Once again I realized that I had grossly miscalculated when I dumped the noodles into the colander.  Only half of what I cooked fit inside; the rest ended up all over the sink.......Shit.

Even worse, about a fourth of the noodles were burnt to the bottom of the pot.  With the pot turned upside down,  the noodles just dangled there helplessly.  I could almost hear them asking, "Damn, brother, what in the hell are you doing?"

I ended up digging a pair of scissors out of the drawer and cutting loose what I could and, yes, I'm sure it looked stupid.  Here is the proof of the damage:

Man.....I suck.  But, dinner was served.  Now to see if it's edible.

My son Toby has always had fairly good manners.  So when I asked him how it tasted he said, "It's okay."  (He's all into that adolescent brevity thing)

But, having known Toby all his life, I knew that "It's okay" actually meant, "It kinda sucks"

My daughter Tera, on the other hand, is very blunt.  If you don't want to know the truth, don't ask her for her opinion.

But, unfortunately, I did need to know.  I don't want to make this again if nobody likes it.  So I braced myself and asked, "So, pumpkin, I tried something different, what do you think?"

Tera didn't even bat an eye, "Well, I'm not barfing....So that's a good thing."

Thank you, pumpkin.  This was a warm and fuzzy, heartfelt moment that I will treasure for the rest of my life......Hugs and puppies for everybody.

In the end, I learned two valuable lessons.  One, I need to plan out my cooking adventures, (yes, for me, they are adventures) a little better, or, go back to the crock pot.  And two, NEVER, EVER, EVER, under any circumstances, deviate from the way mom cooks the meal....The kids will rebel.

All things considered, it wasn't a bad day.....I mean, I didn't burn the house down, right?

My First Day as the Stay at Home Dad (cue the super hero music)

8:30 am:  I left my new job and went home.  Yes, I'm still working, but only two hours a day so I don't consider that part time.

It was the strangest feeling to be leaving work that early in the morning and knowing that I had the rest of the day free.  I almost felt like a kid after finishing up his last day of school for the year.

9:30:  My first day of exercise.  It was just supposed to be a long walk; a slow beginning just to get my body used to the idea.

It was me and Pandora radio playing some Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Sierra Leone Refugee All Stars, and Paul Simon.  I was completely relaxed as I enjoyed the soft breeze giving some small relief from the humidity on this day.  The grass seemed greener, the trees more beautiful; all seemed right with the world.  I don't know the best way to describe how I felt.....I don't know, liberated, maybe?

As I reached the top of a small hill the song Iko Iko came on.  It's such a catchy little tune and I got so into the song that I didn't realize until about half way through it that I was running.  I don't know when I started to run but I figured, "hell, I might as well keep going."

It was just me and Iko Iko.  I was so zoned out that I wasn't really aware of anything going on around me.  Then the song ended, followed by silence and then a quick and not so subtle damage assessment report given to me by my body.  My legs burned, my lungs wheezed, and it felt as if I had a small knife stuck in my rib cage.  Holy Moly!!!  I think I'll go back to walking now.

10:30 am:  Made it home with my shirt soaked with sweat.  I jumped into the shower and got out just as my Mom got there.
I was going to make my first day as stay at home dad the first day I would change my diet, but Mom wanted to take the kids and I out to lunch and, since I don't see Mom that much, I wasn't about to say no.  Besides, there is no quicker way to get my kids to turn against me than to tell their sweet little Grandma no.

While at the restaurant I sat and stared at the portion sizes of our meals.  Here is Toby's:

That's a lot of food, don't you think?  And before that the four of us went through two bowls of chips and salsa.

I've often wondered what the portion sizes of other countries are.  Are we as Americans really that bad about our eating habits?  I guess it's obvious that the answer is yes given that we are one of, if not the, fattest countries in the world.

But did that stop me from eating everything on my plate?  Embarrassingly, the answer is no.  I walked out bloated and wishing I had a looser shirt on.  I was truly miserable.

But the saddest part of the whole thing was that not an hour later I was eating a big bowl of coffee flavored ice cream with chocolate chips.

I thanked Mom for the good time; and it was a good time, I totally enjoyed myself.  But I knew that this was precisely one of the bad habits our family picked up while Karla and I were both full time employees.  My journey to creating a healthy eating family got off to a very rocky start.  I was happy about the time I got to spend with Mom, but my bloated gut reminded me that my lack of discipline at the dinner table needed a lot of work.  I was really disappointed with myself.

2:00 pm:  One of the biggest problems of over eating is that it makes you very tired........I took a nap.

2:30 pm:  It's simply amazing how much housework can get done when everyone in the house chips in.  Between the three of us (kids and I) we got the dishes and laundry done, and got the floors swept and mopped.  We picked up all the clutter, wiped down the kitchen counters and got supper rolling.  The really good feeling I had earlier that morning had returned. 

Granted, there is still a lot more that needs to be done......But, for my first day, I felt I got off to a good start.

6:00 pm:  Swim lessons for Tera.  You know, before this day the only real interaction I've had with Tera (and Toby, for that matter)  was all sports related.  I've never gone on a field trip with her, never helped her with her girl scout projects, never took her to any of her camps.  What a freaking tragedy.  I can't tell you how thankful I am to be getting the opportunity to do more things with my kids that isn't just sports related.

Before kids and sports, I used to go fishing all the time.  Now I'm lucky if get to go once a year.  I used to bike and hike too but, just like fishing, I never had the time to do it.

I do now, and I can't wait to spend more time having fun with the kids.

I would say it's been a great start to my new life.  True, I haven't really got into the meat of my schedule yet.  I've still got groceries, paying bills, so on and so forth.  But any reservations I had about making this move has completely disappeared.

Well, almost any.  The checkbook still scares me.  But my happy ass isn't going to worry about that today.  All is right with the world.

On a side note:  Karla left for work at seven ---- got home at seven.  Yup, we made the right decision.

The Honey Do List for the Unskilled Husband

And so it begins........

Before:

After:

I knew it wouldn't be long before Karla started bringing up home improvement projects for the new stay at home dad.  I just figured she would at least wait until after my last day of full time employment.

The project on this day (Saturday, July 20) was lining rock around the house and using paving stones to give it a border.  My son, Toby, got put to work digging out a small trench for the paving stones to sit in.  Karla and Joe, my father in law, measured from the edge of the house and set the stone.

Linda, my mother in law, took the wheel barrow and dumped rock where ever it was needed.

That left me shoveling rock into the wheel barrow; a task perfectly suited for my skill set.

I believe I have taken handy man incompetence to a whole new level, something that, although I'm not terribly proud of it, I have made little effort to correct.  Every home improvement project that came up the first words out of my mouth were, "Let's just pay someone who knows what their doing."

And that is when I hear the six words that make me absolutely cringe every time Karla says them.  My wife, Miss "Shoot First and Ask Questions Later" asks, "How hard can it actually be?"

Well, let's go over this, shall we?

Fence building project.  I was given the task of digging holes for the fence our neighbors and I chipped in on.  I was told to set a post every eight feet.  Ok, simple enough ---- unless you have the old fashioned manual post hole digger.  Then it absolutely sucks.

It's a warm day and I'm sweating profusely as I slowly grind out one hole after another with a tool that should be sitting in an antique shop.  My shoulders and back are killing me as I work and wonder how the pioneers in the days of old got anything done with the shit tools they had to work with.

I got three holes dug by the time Karla, sweat free and smelling fresh as a daisy, comes home during her lunch break to see how I'm doing.

"How goes it?" she asks with a cheery smile that, at that point, was making me sick.

"This sucks," I snap, "But I got three holes dug.  If I'm lucky I'll have it all done tonight."

"Ok" she says, "Did you center the posts?"

"What?  What does that mean?"

"These are pre built panels," Karla explains as she points to the fence panels, "You're post needs to be every eight foot on center so that you can screw two panels onto it."

It all went down hill from there.  I was no where near center and was forced to start over.  Making things worse, I knew nothing about building fence.  I only found out later about setting end posts, and setting a straight line to mark exactly where I needed to put every post.

Thus,  Karla went back to work, leaving only a dumb ass with a tape measurer that he barely knew how to read, to continue this ill fated project.  Long story short Dave, my brother in law, had to help me finish it.  He is very competent and did the best he could but, thanks to me, it looked horrible   Well, on our side of the fence it did.  Thank God the neighbors only saw the front side of the fence and not the posts holding it up.  They were pleased.

                   --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gutters. That wasn't the only project that Dave had to come in and fix.  I spent a good part of the day hanging new guttering on the house when Dave came over.

I was standing in the yard and admiring my work. I thought things went well that day.

"Did you slope the gutters?' Dave asked.

"Slope?  What does that mean?"

"You want your gutters to slope at a downward angle towards the downspout.  That way rain doesn't just sit in your gutter."

"Crap."

Dave fixed it.

     --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There's more, but I think you get the idea.  However, I am better than I used to be.  When Karla and I  got married I didn't even know what some of the tools were called.  One day my father in law asked me to hand him a Phillips.  I was dumbfounded.

"Um, I would if I knew what you were talking about."

Joe points to the tool box, "The screwdriver."

"Oh, ok.  This one?"

"No, that's a flat head.  The one next to it is a Phillips."

"Oh.  Well, here you go."

"Thank you."

"Sure......Glad I could help."

So now you know why I'm shoveling rock.  The work is hard, but the concept is easy.  As I'm shoveling I smirk at my own ineptitude and proceed to make fun of myself.

"UUUHHH....(shovel).  I'm... not... smart.  UUUHH...(shovel).  But I can.... leeft.... heavy.... theengs. UUUUHHH.....(shovel)"

But I have no one to blame but myself.  I took shop in high school with every intent of learning how to work on small engines.  But then I found you could make throwing stars with sheet metal.  The shop would never be the same.

I also had every intent of learning how to do wood projects.  But then I cut my thumb open on the table saw.

I was very fortunate that the saw was just spinning down after I killed the power.  Had it been still running I'd be missing a digit.  (I ruined a girl's white sweater, too, by the way)

So I got to take a ride to the doctor's office.  I didn't get stitches but I did have to wear the bandages  ----twice.

I'm no doctor, but apparently ol' Doc Madison missed a vital step the first time he bandaged me up.  When I went back to have it removed, Doc unwrapped my thumb only to discover that my wound had scabbed over the gauze.  We stared at each other in momentary confusion. Then the ol' Doc smiled and said.  "Bear down."

What?

RIP!!!!!  "OOOOHH.......GGGGGOOOODDD!"

"Hang in there, son.  We'll get it right this time."

So the whole table saw thing turned out to be a rather traumatic event for me.  To this day my ass puckers every time I hear a saw fire up.

Armed with this knowledge, Karla has learned to write up a "Tom proof" honey do list. This is how it works:

1. If she does not want to become a widow, then it is not a good idea to put anything on the list dealing with electricity.

2. In regards to measurements, said husband has a horse shoe and hand grenades mentality.  If you are ok with "close enough" go ahead and put it on the list.  If not, call a contractor.

3. In regards to dry wall, hanging sheets is ok.  Mud and tape is not advisable.

4.  Try to avoid any projects that have a lot of cutting involved.  He can do it, but he shakes as if he's been hit by a taser.

So what does that leave?  A lot of painting and heavy lifting.  That's what I do.

So far the honey do list consists of repainting the inside of the house and redoing the patio with new paving stones, tasks that I can handle.

However, I have found something that I am good at. I am actually really good at laying tile, which I know is going to find itself on the list real soon.

Thank God most of our big projects are already done.....Otherwise, the EMT's and Fire department would need to be put on speed dial.

Starting a list

The closer I get to the new reality that is my life, the more uptight I get.  This is the one job I don't want to get "fired" from.  So I'm starting a list that is sure to grow as  I go along.  It is the list of the things I must do and the things I must not do.  Like I said, it's just starting so bear with me.

Must:  I desperately need to learn how to cook.  Growing up, Mom made all the meals so there was no need to learn; or so I thought.  When I moved out on my own I realized that the stove in my apartment was nothing more than a decoration.  I lived on bologna sandwiches and, a Meyer favorite, peanut butter and miracle whip. (It's good....No, really) I also had a steady diet of McDonald's.  It's a small wonder my heart didn't just say  "You know what, I give up." and seize up on the spot.  (Once again, Tera comes by her horrible eating habits naturally)

Fortunately, my sister-in-law has already offered to teach me to cook.  My mom, master of all food Filipino, will readily jump in if I ask and, of course, Karla is will ensure that I don't burn the house down.....(It's insured...no worries)


Must Not!:  Depend solely on the microwave. As a single man my idea of learning how to cook was to use the microwave.  I doubt my stove ever got turned on, well, wait a minute.  Yes, it did....but not for the purposes of cooking.

When I first moved into my apartment I complained to the landlord that I had no hot water, and was promptly ignored. So one day I noticed that the pilot light was out on the gas stove.  I called the landlord and said, "Hey, um, there's no, like, flame when I turn on the stove.  I can hear the gas, so when I turn it on can I just light a match and......"

"NNNNOOOOOO!!!!!  Don't touch anything!!! I'll be there in ten minutes!"

Less then ten minutes later the landlord is pounding at the door.  I open it, thank him for coming, and then say, "By the way, since you're here, can you fix the hot water heater?"

Problem solved.

So, back to the microwave.  I figured out how to make mac and cheese, egg and cheese, bologna and cheese in the microwave.  Have you figured out that I like cheese?  I also like milk.  I could down a gallon of it in one day.  Put the two together and you find yourself sitting on the stool with severe lower GI pains, and appreciating way too late the value of drinking water.  (I still, at that time, hadn't figured out that fruits and vegetables were also beneficial)

One last thing on the microwave.  Karla rides the kids and I constantly about putting a paper towel over our plate of food before microwaving.  This constant nagging was largely ignored.  "Yeah, whatever," as the door slams shut on an uncovered plate of spaghetti, "Let the nuking begin."

Oh, how tables have turned.  Now I'm staring at the inside of the microwave, with all it's splat stains plastering the inner walls.  I see things crusted in there that we haven't eaten in, like, forever.  Well guess whose job it is to clean it now?

Shit.

Must:  Organize all forms of entertainment.  Scattered all about the house are video games, ball equipment, books, magazines, more ball equipment, music and all it's gear, and more ball equipment.  The video games won't be a problem to find a home for.  Neither will the books and magazines.  The ball equipment, on the other hand, will require a little more effort.

I am an unashamed gear junkie.  There is nothing I love more than getting new gear. Baseballs, softballs, soft core balls, pitching machine balls, little bitty balls for hand eye coordination, bats, hitting nets, hitting tees, pitching machine, cleats, helmets, backpacks, catcher's gear, footballs, football helmet, shoulder pads, kicking tees........Did I forget anything?  Yeah, I got all that stuff and no garage to put it in.  How can a man not have a garage, you say?  That's a story for another day.

Right now, the room that was supposed to be my office is crammed full with a lot of this gear. The rest of it is strewn about the house.  I've got five baseballs sitting on Karla's piano right now.

Yes, this will take some time to figure out.

Must Not!:  Fall victim to the seductive powers of the XBOX.  Speaking of entertainment, the xbox is a serious distraction for me.  So I've decided that while the wife and kids are gone I simply am not allowed to turn it on.

I know me.  "Just one level" I'll say.  One, will turn into two and so on an so on because I can't find that ideal stopping point.  The next thing I know I will look up at the clock and realize that the kids will be home in ten minutes, the wife about an hour and a half after that, and I will panic because I've done absolutely nothing.

The last question  I want to answer is, "My God, what did you do all day?"


Must:  Keep the bathroom clean ---- by a woman's standards.

I hate cleaning the bathroom.  I know what goes on in there and I find it repulsive.  But I'm also aware that being the stay at home dad I have no excuses.  I'm going to have to put the bandana over my nose and keep the gagging to a minimum.  Oh, and find some rubber gloves.

Must Not!:  Pawn my dirty work off on my kids.  The kids will have chores, but I will save the bathroom for the days they get into trouble.  If they find cleaning the bathroom as repulsive as I do then I foresee no behavioral issues in the future.

However, I may let Toby take a crack at it.  Maybe then his aim will get better.

I simply don't get it.  How can a kid that can throw a baseball consistently for strikes not be able to stand over a large bowl and find the mark?  It's not like he's trying keep a firm grip on a high pressure fire hose.  Just aim the thing, dammit.

Of course, I remember being the same way as a kid.  I firmly believe most of your urination misfires occur in the early hours of the morning when you are not fully awake.  Remember now, peeing with only one eye open screws up your depth perception.  Wash your face and wake up before using the toilet to ensure proper execution of your bathroom duties.

Must:  Keep up on the laundry.....Than includes putting it away and not leaving it sitting on the deep freeze.

Must Not!:  Have an aneurism matching up and folding socks.  I can't explain it; folding clothes is a simple task.  Yet sorting through a ton of socks to find matches just drives me absolutely crazy.  I'll fold towels and shirts all day, but give me ten pairs of socks to sort through and the world comes to an end.  I just can't stand sorting socks.

Of course I have a few other odd idiosyncrasies that I may as well fess up to.  For instance, if I'm about to eat a hot dog and the bun splits in half I slam it down on the plate and walk away.  The meal is ruined.  I don't know why, but a splitting hot dog bun sends me to the nut house.

The same goes for hard taco shells.  In fact, if there isn't a soft shell to put around it I won't even bother.  The wife and kids might find it funny, but when I take a bite and the shell splits in half, dumping all it's contents either on my plate or in my lap, it's enough to render me insane.

But, back to the socks.  The other thing that drives me up a wall is when I don't find the matching sock.  That's when the manhunt begins.  I will rifle through the laundry looking for it and, more often than not, my search will come up empty.

"WHAT THE HELL?  WHERE'S THE DAMN SOCK?!"

Karla rolls her eyes in exasperation, "Relax, it's probably in here."

"What is that?"

Karla is now losing patience, "What do you think it is?  It's a bag full of socks.  Just dig in here, I'm sure you'll find it."

It's only a small plastic grocery bag of socks.  But to me it may as well be a fifty gallon trash bag of unmatched hell.  I blow a gasket, "Oh, hell no, I'm not going through that mess."

Well, guess what buddy, you are sorting through that mess.  It's your job now.

Maybe I should have a few beers before I fold socks.  You know, to mellow me out a little.



All right, so there you have it.  The list is small but, like I said earlier, I'm sure it will grow.

Later.

Focus on Health

Despite all the anxieties I'm having about the financial implications of being a stay at home dad, I am absolutely geeked (Apparently, according to google, geeked is not a word.  Bah!  I'm using it anyway) about getting back in shape.

I've always wanted six pack abs.  The closest I got was a four pack and a small pooch.  One friend of mine claimed that he had a six pack; it was just hidden underneath a bag of chips.  Another friend of mine said he didn't have a stomach.  He had a liquid grain storage facility.  (Um, Beer.  Just to clarify)

I worked my tail off to get that four pack.  I logged all of my food intake on Livestrong.com, worked out faithfully four days a week, and stayed off the beer and pizza.  In six weeks I went from weighing 180 to 165.  Yes, I'm not a very big person.  I'm five foot nine but I have a very small frame.  You know, it's a Filipino thing.

I had never in my life felt so good.  I was ready to conquer the world. I felt as if, physically, there wasn't a thing I couldn't do.

The mental benefits were also awesome.  I can't explain it, but when you're in great shape, your outlook on the world is just a little bit rosier.

Another benefit to being in great shape is it got me totally off of my caffeine dependancy.  No more Starbucks, no more Monster drinks.  It......felt......awesome.

Then.......the family went to Disney World.  There I found the Epcot Center.  Inside the Epcot Center I found an all you can eat German restaurant called the Biergarten; and I proceeded to eat and drink myself stupid.

I never knew red cabbage could taste so good.  When I ordered a beer the waitress asked if I wanted a small or large beer.  Thinking in American terms (16 or 20 oz.) I thought, heck, let's go for the big beer.  I wasn't expecting big to be a one liter stein......Oh, crap.

I couldn't even pronounce half of what I was eating; and after slamming down a liter of beer I can't say that I even really knew what was in I was eating either.  I just knew it was damn good and I went totally nuts.

Let me tell you.....German food is heavy.  Very heavy.  Lotsa potatoes, folks.

After it was all said and done I couldn't ever remember feeling more miserable.  Unbelievably, Toby, who had kept up with me for quite a while, had the audacity to ask, "Dad, you wanna go ride the test track?"

Now Toby knows better, I suffer from motion sickness, add to the fact that I was lit up from drinking too much beer (yes, I'm a light weight) I answered with an emphatic, "Oh, Hell no."

So, getting back to getting healthy.  This is where the downward spiral began.  One thing about hitting the restaurants is, once you start eating out on a regular basis, it's a difficult habit to break.  And we ate out everywhere on vacation, then it never really stopped when we came home.

I went from 165 two years ago up to 185 now.

Ok, I know. I can hear it now.  185?  Quite crying, you a-hole.

But, I don't feel good at 185.  It's time to shave about fifteen pounds off this frame.  After that, work on the six pack.

With the family life being as frantic as it is eating out is the quick and easy way to get by.  The worst of all the eating out months is June.  That's when Toby is playing competitive baseball and Tera is playing competitive softball.

There are no weekends off in June; there is always a ball tournament somewhere.  Add practices and league games during the week and you have no time for grocery shopping.

During the month of June Karla calculated that the family had spent over four hundred dollars on fast food and sit down restuarants.......Ouch.

This is a figure that makes me cringe.  My kids are thirteen and eight, and what am I teaching them about eating healthy?  Not a damn thing.

Fortunately, Toby has always been a fairly good eater.  He's not a big junk food kid and, like his dad, he's been blessed with a high metabolism.  But he does have two vices that Karla and I have to keep an eye on.  He loves pop and has a weakness for little Debbie Cakes.

Tera's eating habits, on the other had, are absolutely atrocious.  She is our junk food junkie.  As an example, let's go with Halloween.

When Toby went trick or treating, he would come home with a large sack, dump it out, take the suckers and bubble gum, and then proceed to sell the rest.  This is when I learned that taking your candy to school in order to turn a profit is completely unacceptable.  I had no idea Toby was even doing that.  So guess who ended up buying up all the chocolate?  Dear ol' dad.  But we will talk about the chocoholic later.

With Tera, the bag wouldn't even hit the floor before she was already digging out of it.  Empty wrappers start hitting the ground at a fast and furious pace.  Yes, little girl had hit the lottery.

So Karla and I were forced to put all of Tera's candy away and to ration it out to her.  Otherwise she would sit in front of the TV and eat herself sick.

Now Tera comes by it naturally.  Her dad is a serious chocoholic.  It's bad enough that when Karla buys chocolate, say a bag of snickers fun bites, she has to hide it, other wise Tera and I will knock it out in half a day.

So getting healthy is not just a concern for myself.  I really worry about Tera.  From the minute she gets home from school until she goes to bed, if we let her, she will just graze all afternoon and into the evening.  She is the reason that when I take over the grocery shopping that the junk/processed foods will be held to an absolute minimum.  She seriously has no concept of what eating healthy means, and that is my fault.  As a parent I did her a great disservice.

I'm not looking forward to the withdrawals.  I think out of the whole family Tera will take it the hardest.  But it has to be done.

Fortunately, early on, the grocery shopping will be a meat free adventure.  Karla and I have reached out to the locals in our community for our beef (Thank you, Ladina) and our pork (thank you, again, Ladina)  We have found farm fresh eggs (thanks, Karyn) and occasionally we plan to splurge on free range chicken (Thank you Dan and Hailey).

The freezer will be stocked.  We shall see how long it lasts.

Now, financially, I know that this could be a more expensive proposition.  However, the one piece of mind I get from this is that I know exactly where my meat is coming from and I know how it's been raised.

I once had the fortune (or misfortune, depending on your take on things) of watching a film called Food, Inc.  In the movie I got a good look at how our big corporations are raising our livestock and preparing it for the market place.  It absolutely turned my stomach.

The next time I hear someone scream about how cruel hunting is and then turn around and eat a hamburger or buy chicken nuggets from the store I will have to resist the temptation to smack the living crap out of them.

At least the bird I shot was free and had a chance to live.  It wasn't cooped up, unable to move in an overcrowded pen, standing in it's own feces......But, I digress.  Live and let live, right?

Come spring I will plant a garden and look into canning everything I grow. To be honest, it doesn't sound fun, but if it saves on grocery money and helps us eat better, I'll do it.

Now, the exercise part won't be that bad.......for three of us.

Tera, Toby, and I, in regards to exercise, are busy bodies.  Biking, hiking, playing on the trampoline, throwing the ball around.  That's all fun stuff that we will enjoy doing, thanks to my decision to stay home.

Karla, however, is not a fan of exercise.  I've known her since I was seventeen years old and I can seriously only remember seeing her run twice.  Both times the kids were in trouble about something.

It's not that she can't be athletic.  She doesn't want to be.  Karla enjoys sitting behind a desk, going to library board meetings, being the team accountant for Tera's softball team.  Karla, in short, is a workaholic.  Her own health has always taken second fiddle.  And now that Karla and I are in our forties, that worries me.

I'm starting to see some of my friends fall victim to heart problems, diabetes, and high blood pressure.  I didn't think I would see that stuff for at least another twenty years.

I'm hoping to see Karla do a little blogging herself about her own exercise related success story as well as the rest of the family.  My biggest hope is that by reducing the stress level from all the running around we can come out of this a much healthier, and happier family.  Both mentally and physically.

Only time will tell.

Test

This is just a test......working on FeedBurner issues.

Thank you, (and Damn you) Dave Ramsey

My soon to be adventures as a stay at home dad would not have been possible had it not been for a sound financial decision made by Karla almost twelve years ago.......And I just about lost my mind in the process.

Let's go way back and focus in on our upbringing for starters.   It will serve as the ground work for this little blog.

 I grew up the oldest of four boys, and my mom was a hard core bargain shopper.  Being a Filipino you can just imagine her disappointment when she first discovered that haggling in department stores in the new country was generally frowned upon.  But she quickly got over it as she discovered the joys of garage sales and blue light specials (K-mart, for those of you too young to remember)

So I spent my childhood wearing old concert shirts and jerseys of teams I never heard of.  Looking back there was nothing wrong with the clothes, they were all in good shape.  But I was well aware that I was not "in style", and I hated it.  I find that laughable, now that I don't really care what the "in" style is.

So when I graduated from high school and got my first full time job I was determined to live it up.  And boy did I.  One hundred and twenty dollar Nike shoes?  Yeah, I had more than a few pair of those.  I bought my first car, got an apartment with nothing to move into it.  I did manage to take my old bed and an old couch from home.  But I went out and bought everything else.  Life was good.

Being a music junkie, I bought cassettes/CD's (yeah, I just dated myself) - two or three a week every week.  I don't have any of them now.  I could go on and on.....But I think I've given you enough information to see where I'm going with this.

I literally spent my paycheck as soon as I got it.  There was no retirement or saving plans.  As long as I could cover my bills all was right with the world.  And I never balanced my check book.  It was just a general guide line as far as I was concerned.  In short ----- I was a financial idiot.

Karla, on the other hand, grew up on hand me down clothes as well.  But her take on it was quite different.  She grew up on a dairy farm and, the one thing you need to know about farming is, you don't do it to make money......You do it because you love to do it.

I may have grown up on my Mom's stingy budget.  But Karla grew up learning how to squeeze blood from a turnip - there was little room to be frivolous.  And in her household the kids were expected to do their part to keep the farm going.  There was helping with the milking.  There was picking up rocks in the field, herding cows whenever they got out, building fences, running errands - there is always work on a farm.  While her family was not poor by local standards, she and her siblings were expected to help on the farm.  Her folks founded the "50/50 Plan" with the kids.  When the kids wanted contacts or summer camps, they were expected to foot the bill for half of the cost.

So, early on, Karla acquired two things that I didn't until much later in life.  1) a strong work ethic and 2) an in depth understanding of the value of a dollar.

When we got married we moved into student housing while Karla attended classes at KU.  Student housing was cheap and with me working full time life was good; still no worries.

But it only took a month into our marriage for Karla to figure out that I had no financial sense at all.  When we got a joint checking account we were issued ATM cards.  A month later Karla comes up to me holding a bank statement and asks, "Tom, where did you spend all this money?"

I don't remember the exact figure.  But I do remember it was rather large.  All I could answer was "Uuuuhhhh," (Doing my best Butt head imitation now) "I don't know."

I figured that playing stupid at that point was a lot better than admitting that I spent a good chunk of that money on beer and McDonalds.

So one month into our joint checking I got my ATM card cut up and was put on an allowance.

Things got much better after that fiasco.  But, then the home ownership bug bit.

We were determined to get our own house; despite the advice of our parents to not get in a hurry.  This is where the start of the debt snowball began.

At first it wasn't a big deal.  Our mortgage payment was hefty but we could afford it. Life was still good.........Then we had our first child......Then, all hell broke loose.

Any young couple expecting their first child that tells your their prepared either has A) Rich parents or B) no flipping clue what they are getting into.  We were B.

You have the usual expenses;  Diapers, day care, formula, baby clothes that they outgrow it seems on a daily basis.  Yeah, we thought were were prepared.  Let me tell you, babies poop....... a lot.

But then there are the things that you don't expect.  It usually happens around the time your first child learns to crawl/walk.  Toby was walking at nine months......No, seriously.  I'm not talking take a few steps and face plant into the ground.  I mean full on walking.  And that's when things got really expensive.  No matter how much you watch them, all it takes is one lax moment and the little minion from Hell breaks something.

A few examples;  A pop tart in the VCR.  Ribbon ripped out of the printer. A kitchen magnet placed on the computer monitor.  A missing cell phone that shows up three months later in the bottom of one of your change jars.

It was around this time that the word "Budget" first reared it's ugly head.  I've never had to budget before.  Money was never a problem.  Then our luck got worse.

On top of mortgage, baby, car, student loans, and 2 credit cards, my car died.  When you have it towed to the shop and mechanic says, "I wouldn't even bother" you know your vehicle is fried.

So we added another car payment.  The following winter was brutal and our utilities sky rocketed.  We began to realize that we were in trouble.

Now it's true that by most people's standards we were doing just fine.  We were still putting money away in retirement (Well, Karla was putting our money into retirement), and we were paying all of our bills.

But we were living paycheck to paycheck and, for us, that was unacceptable.  Unacceptable for Karla because she wanted more than just retirement.  She wanted a nest egg and a huge "rainy day" fund for when things went wrong.  I just wanted my play money back.

And that is when Karla discovered a Mr. Dave Ramsey.

For those of you who don't know him.  Mr. Ramsey (I don't know him well enough to be informal) is a financial guru and motivational speaker whose main focus is helping people get out of debt.

Me, being a financial idiot, had no desire to attend the Financial Peace classes.  Karla, however, did attend, and she bit into it hook, line, and sinker.  She came out of the classes absolutely obsessed with the idea that we could be debt free.  And she fell back on her days growing up on the farm to get it done.

We went beans and rice, rice and beans.  My allowance got significantly smaller, and every penny we earned went straight to debt reduction.

Now Mr. Ramsey says that in every relationship you have the Nerd and the Free Spirit.  In financial terms Karla couldn't be any more nerd if she tried.  So in regards to her strict beans and rice philosophy she took to it like a fish to water.

The free spirit, however, was absolutely losing his marbles.  I was making money, but I wasn't getting to spend any of it.  I even remember working weeks of overtime just to see it put a new roof on the house.  I was thinking big screen TV....... silly me.

It was beyond a doubt the longest ten years of my life, but, we did it.  The first thing we did was sell our huge house.  We then saw that a little berm home was for sale in an adjacent, smaller town.

This was a good idea for two reasons.  A smaller school is what we wanted for our children and, if Karla could get me out of a larger town where there was too much temptation for me to resist, that was a bonus.

So we went to check it out.  When we first walked in the door our welcoming committee came in the form of cat urine.  Red flag number one.  Delving deeper into the house we saw tiny objects hopping about the carpets:  fleas.  Red flag number two.  In one the rooms we looked into, the window was broken and stuffed with an old Harley Davidson blanket.  Red flag number three.

I looked at Karla and shook my head.  "Wow, what a dump."  I then looked at the realtor.  "We'll take it."

I'm sure our family that helped us move in thought that we had gone off the deep end and, to be honest, I wouldn't have disagreed if they told me so.  But everyone stayed tight lipped.

In our new home we were very well aware that we had a project on our hands. But the important thing was we just cut our mortgage in half by making the move.  Fleas and urine be damned.

With the mortgage reduced we then got to work on paying off our debts.  First came one credit card, then the other.  Next came my student loans, followed by one car, then another, and finally, the house.

I look at the previous paragraph.  It's so tiny.  Yet that tiny paragraph took ten years; and I was miserable every step of the way.  The free spirit just couldn't wait to bust out and go on the rampage again.  I wanted a new TV, a new home stereo system.  I wanted my Nike apparel back as well as my Cubs jerseys and hats.  I wanted to go out to eat again.  I wanted to go to the movies.  On and on and on.

So when we finally made our last payment on the house I felt as if I had just been released from prison.  I mean, I thought that, perhaps, it had that same feel.  Well, minus the whole butt sex thing.  I wasn't thinking about that.  Ok, I guess I just wrote it so the thought obviously crossed my mind.  I guess I just thought I was getting screwed........Metaphorically speaking, of course.  You know what, let's move on.

So, finally free, I promptly went to Kohl's.  I was going to buy some clothes.  HOORAY!!!!

I walked in the door and went directly over to where all my beautiful Nike apparel lay.  Once there I fell in love with a pair of black shorts.  I smiled as I held it in my hands, cradling it as if I were holding a new born child.  My mouth watered as I closed my eyes, tilted my head back, and soaked in the joy.

Then, suddenly, a little voice popped into my head.  "Forty dollars for a pair of shorts?  That's a lot of money"

My eyes popped open and I grimaced, "Who said that?"

The little voice continued, "You know, there is a less popular brand over there for half the price.  You could buy two of those."

A blood vessel began to rise out of my temple, "Go away, you prick.  I've waited for ten years to do this.  Don't ruin it for me."

The little voice giggled, "Tsk, Tsk, Thomas.  You know the three day rule don't you?  Walk away, and if you still want it three days from now, come back."

My heart rate elevated as I became enraged with the voice inside my own head.  I started to wonder if there was anyone around witnessing my melt down.

"Why are you doing this to me?  After what I went through, I deserve these shorts."

The little voice, calm and cool, said.  "Have you learned nothing about financial peace?  You've got shorts at home that you don't wear now.  Step away brother, and find a better use for your money."

Unhappily, I relented to the little jerk.  "Oh,  (sniff), OK."

In total defeat, shoulders slumped and head down, I left Kohl's empty handed.  And I never went back for those shorts.

And this is where I say, DAMN YOU, DAVE RAMSEY!!!!!   I spent ten years on a budget and now that I have the opportunity to treat myself I feel guilty about an unnecessary purchase.

From that day until now, every time I go to buy something for me I find myself in complete agony.  I question every purchase I attempt to make with, "Do you really need this?" and find myself, nine times out of ten, putting the item back on the shelf.

It's gotten so bad that Karla usually has to be there to tell me to buy it because I can't do it myself.

Now I have no problem buying for the kids.  I spend all kinds of money on them.  But for myself, the process has become to painful.

But, I have to grudgingly admit, it's for the better.  Over time, I've learned that a lot of the things I thought I really wanted were not the things that truly make me happy.  That's what my family is for.

So, thank you, Mr. Dave Ramsey.  (And damn you, but just a little)

By the way, Mr. Ramsey, the nerd bought a brand new Honda Pilot.

Yeah, nerd, I'm rattin' you out.  :)

A new beginning

Hello, my name is Tom; I just put in my two weeks notice at work.........and I am scared shitless.

Why?  Because I am about to embark on a journey that I'm not really sure I'm prepared for.  I am two weeks away from becoming a stay at home dad.  I can just hear my family and friends now, "Oh, those poor kids."

To say that our family life has been chaotic is somewhat of an understatement.  Karla puts in long hours at work mixed in with the occasional travel. I work full time and attempt to help coach a baseball and softball team.  The kids have summer conditioning, art camp, ball, and a lawn mowing job.  I'm sure there are a few things that I've forgotten, but you get the picture.

The straw that finally broke the camel's back came last month.  For a three week period the family never made it home before eleven o'clock.  The last day of the stretch resulted in me unlocking the front door and, upon opening it, getting smacked in the face with a rank smell. A full on, eye watering, assault of the proboscis.  A nearly successful assassin's take down of the schnoz and gag reflex.

"Holy Crap" I coughed, "What is that?"

"I don't know" said Karla, "You check the trash and the compost bowl.  I'll get to work on dish mountain."

The culprit ended up being the trash, so, one disaster down.  On to the next.

Toby, our 13 year old with the hollow leg, has his head buried in the fridge and yelling, "Man, there's no food in here."

Normally you can tell a kid, "No, there's plenty of food.  There's just nothing here you want to eat."

But in this case it was true.  We've been so busy that neither Karla nor myself had had any time to go grocery shopping. The milk was gone and all that sat in the fridge was some cheese and variety of rotten fruits and vegetables that we forgot we had.  I did manage to find some hamburger in the back of the fridge but Karla told me to throw it out.

"Why?  It smells ok."

"Tom, when was the last time we had hamburger?"

Good point.

So the family had water, a few granola bars, and a shared a bag of chips before bed......Yummy.

The next day Toby is digging in the dryer.  He backs out, throws his hand up in the air and says, "I have no clean socks."

Ok.....Enough is enough.

That evening Karla and I sat down for a serious conversation.  Financially we were doing exceedingly well.  The family? Not so much.  It was time to focus on achieving some balance in our lives.  It was agreed that the lower income would cut back to a part time job (I found one, two hours a day and home by 8:30 am) and pick up the slack at home......Well, guess who that turned out to be?

And that's how I ended up here.  As stated earlier, I'm scared, but I'm excited as well.  This whole day has been one big emotional roller coaster with me just trying to keep it all under control.  Happy.....sad.....worried.....excited.  Yes, I've gone completely neurotic.  Perhaps I need a Midol.

But enough about me and my maladjusted brain (for now).  Let's get on to why I started this blog.  There are two reasons: One, I felt I needed a way to hold myself accountable as I journey into the unknown. All my triumphs will be blogged for all to see; but so will my failures and, if there is one thing I don't accept well, it's failure.  This blog will help me stay on the straight and narrow.

The second reason I started this blog is I'm a little concerned about my social well being.  I'm not the type who can just walk up to a stranger and strike up a conversation.  In fact, I'm more inclined to shut myself up into the house and resist human interaction all together.

I've had visions of me doing the whole Tom Hanks Castaway thing where I draw faces on soccer balls and line them up all over the house.  "So, how's your day?"

Granted, a blog is not the same as a real conversation, but that's good enough for me.

The blog name, The Mainstream Runaway, I thought was an accurate assessment of what a stay at home dad is.  A minority.....A rarity.  At least in this part of the world it is.

But I have to admit that the name for the site was not my first choice.  I started with Somewhere in Kansas but Karla said it wasn't "flashy" enough.  What?

"If you hope to make any money on this blog you need a name that will catch someone's eye."

"Money?" I asked, "I can do that?......Pfft.  Whatever.  I don't care about no stinking money."

But Karla was adamant that Somewhere in Kansas did not fit the bill. She was also equally (if not more so) unimpressed with Musings of the Midwest Moron.

Where the Mainstream Runaway actually came from I have no idea.  I just heard myself say it.  As soon as I said it I thought, "No, that will never do."

But Karla's eyes lit up, "That's it.  I like that." And, since I'm all too aware of who gives me my allowance, I went with it..... So there you have it.

The one thing I did promise myself is that I will not pigeon hole myself on this blog.  Everything that happens, or has happened, to me will be documented.  Whether it be the adventures of Captain Coupon, a bike ride with the kids, or memories of loved ones lost.  It will all be here.

One thing I can promise you is that I will never talk about politics.  There are more than enough people out there riling up the public.  There is no need for me to add to that mess.

So buckle up and enjoy the ride......Even if it only results in a flat tire shortly after leaving the driveway. Oh and, by the way, if you happen to be a real writer or an English teacher I'm sure to drive you absolutely insane.