The Dancing Samoks...

Yup, we like the Barenaked Ladies in our house. Our kids have given BNL the greatest amount of CD play within the past year. Goobs and the Bun especially like the "Everything for Everyone" CD. They really rock out to the song..."Another Postcard." J has been doing a lot of videotaping of the kids and she's got them dancing to BNL for a prolonged period of time. We kind of had forgotten about how much until she took the tapes in to have them converted into DVD's so we can send them to her mom back in the Philippines. We watched the DVD's when we got them back from Proex this past weekend and really had a great time. We saw the Bun waving her arms and bouncing up and down. Goobs vacilated between doing the pogo to a preschool version of a stage dive onto the sofa. It was a blast to watch. The kids even started dancing again when they saw themselves on the DVD. We also had tape of the kids dancing to BNL's tune on the "Chicken Little" soundtrack, called "One Little Slip." J even danced with them during that tune.

I have seen some performers or groups that are specifically for kids...Milkshake, Dan Zane...etc., but my kids don't bounce off of the walls for those folks. They jam to BNL-occasionally Goobs asks me to throw on some old Aerosmith and turn it up. He says, "Daddy, I want Rock and Roll!" Who am I to turn him down if he wants to have a little fun with some music.

We also can get mellow in the Samok household. The kids also love Jack Johnson's Curious George Soundtrack. The call it "Monkey Song." The tune "Upside Down" from that CD came on the radio when we were driving the other day and the kids screamed "Monkey Song..Monkey Song...Daddy I want it louder!!!"The Bun's second birthday is coming up at the end of August. My fantasy is to be able to call up the boys from BNL and have them play a backyard birthday concert for my kids. After seeing them in concert and also some of their live performances on TV, I think Ed Robertson and Stephen Paige and the boys are just big kids themselves. Man, it would be great to have a little cake and dance around with my kids to "If I had a million dollars." I just think that would be sooooo coooooool.

NO SMOKING!!!

I had to go down to the outside smoking area at our school today. I needed to speak to a student between classes and this was the only way to catch him. He was on a smoke break since his next class is an Asian Foods lab that lasts for five hours. Since this is a college and students are adults, they are free to smoke if they choose... in the outdoor area... and of course this also includes faculty and staff. Ours is also an art school with a culinary program, so I would guess a lot of our "suffering and starving artists" suck down a crapload of nicotine.

Now this outdoor smoking area used to be completely open, but there was a hoity toity boutique hotel built right next to us, and we being good neighbors, put up ground to ceiling hurricane fencing with vinyl barriers that cover about 8-9 feet of the fencing. So...there isn't much of a breeze that can thin out the smoke that billows out from the cigarettes in that area. I don't spend a great deal of time down there...That was the first time I've been down there since they put up the fencing. I think it will be the last.

I only needed to talk to Zach for about two minutes. By the time I was done talking to him my head was spinning and I felt like I wanted to throw up. I really didn't think it would affect me quite that way, but it certainly did. It's been an hour since I've been down there and I still have the remains of a headache. I just sniffed my shirt, and it still smells like cigarettes. Okay...I probably am overreacting. I'm such a girly man...

Now...I don't want to be preachy, because preachy people want to make me puke too. But, I don't want to be around that or have my kids be exposed to cigarettes. Here's the weird part. I used to smoke cigarettes...and I still very occasionally enjoy a nice cigar if I am sitting on my deck late at night after the kids go to bed (I hope that doesn't make me too much of a dopey hypocrite).

I started thinking about this a few weeks ago when we went to our homeowners association's pool. There were a lot of twentysomething folks drinking beer and smoking in the pool area. Both alcohol and tobacco are prohibited there, but it seems like the rule is pretty much ignored. We didn't stay too long that particular afternoon. Goobs smelled the smoke from the cigarettes and and said, "Daddy, what's that smell?" I didn't tell him about the cigarettes, but I said..."Yeah, it's a bad smell isn't it?" He agree with me. I didn't want to get into the discussion about cigarettes right then and there, so I kept it at that.

What kills me is this...it didn't used to bother me that much at all-probably because I still was sneaking smokes every so often. I lived in Seoul for seven years...that's probably most smoke friendly place I've every been to. Every place that I went had someone smoking...except of course church...and fast food restaurants. But...everywhere else...someone was in the process of lighting up, in the middle of one, or putting a smoke out. If you were a guy, you had the obligatory breast pocket that jutted out in a rectangular fashion in the shape of a pack. If you were female, you hung out at a cafe because you couln't smoke outside...but you still smoked. I was there...I was in the middle of the cloud, but I didn't get headaches and feel like I wanted to puke. What's the difference now??? All I know now is I can't hang in a smokey environment like that for even two minutes.

I do know this...If I catch my kids smoking...I WILL BUST THEIR BUTTS...I will SAMOK THEIR WORLDS. They can take that to the bank.

PMS in toddlers???

Is it possible for a two year old girl to PMS??? I didn't think so, but then again my daughter...the Bun, had me thinking twice yesterday morning. Okay...so maybe I'm overreacting. I've been accused of that by my loving wife on a few occasions here and there.

But there I was...six thirty in the morning, pouring a bowl of dry Cheerios and getting her morning ration of grapes. Usually, she loves me to put a pile of Cheerios on my palm and she grabs a huge handful and stuffs them in her little mouth. She then picks up a few errant ones and feeds me. It's a cute exchange that I particularly enjoy. We do the same with the grapes...she can't actually grab a pile of grapes. Thankfully she eats those one at a time.

Well anyway...I get the Cheerios in the bowl, lay down her grapes, and finally fill her sippy cup up with milk. Seemed normal...but then, I dipped my hand into the bowl of dry Cheerios and a shriek went up. She then screamed "Daddy no!" I picked the cereal out of the bowl in my usual fashion and she slapped it away, sending Cheerios all over the table and on the floor. I tried again, and she whacked my hand with all the ferocity a little girl her size could muster. I then attempted to give her the sippy cup of milk. Same treatment...the cup went flying on the floor. All the while, screaming and crying. Okay I thought, let's try the grapes. Same thing. Nothing, absolutely nothing was making this little girl happy.

This drama goes on for about ten minutes. I decided that she could sit in her chair and I would just step out of the kitchen for a moment to see if removing daddy from the situation just might calm her down. I walked around the corner out of sight, just intending to wait there until she calmed down a little. That was even a bigger mistake. Daddy leaving just made her shriek louder. Okay...breakfast wasn't working and she hadn't been changed yet to get ready for daycare...Dad will get her ready. Maybe that will work. Not a chance...it was havoc throughout the changing process. We got it done and returned to the kitchen for round two of breakfast. The screaming went on for a couple of minutes, and then without so much as a small indication, she took a deep breath, smiled and then started eating her Cheerios and grapes. I dipped my hand in the Cheerios and handed her a pile. She smiled and shoveled them in. From that point on, she was a pleasant little girl. No more howling or whacking her food away. It was just the Bun and Daddy sharing their usual breakfast moment.

It was weird. It was exciting. It was our morning.

I was thinking yesterday about what it would be like if we lived in the Philippines. How would things be different. What would the family dynamic be like? I've had this fantasy about packing up the family and setting down roots in Davao. I've spent a lot of time there, the longest stretch being two months in one shot. I know it would be completely different to live there...permanently.

The big thing I was thinking about was having a family helper/yaya. What would it be like to have a helper/yaya for the kids??? My mother-in-law has had the same helper for many years. Jina has been there for Mama for over a decade I think. J tells me that Mama scolds Jina for not eating enough or not taking care of herself. Even though Mama employs Jina, it seems that neither one of them can live without the other. Jina left for a while to strike off on her own. Mama tried two or three different helpers, but none worked out well for her. After a while, Jina returned. They both seem happier together. I surmise that since J has moved to Minnesota and her brother is in Manila, Mama needs someone to take care of and mother. Jina sees Mama as a mother figure as well. It works for them and I'm glad.

Whenever we are in the Philippines, Jina is there with Mama. I have a hard time with dealing with a helper--put simply, I feel guilty. Here's an example of what I'[m talking about.There we were, sitting in the sala, just hanging out, talking and watching TV. Meanwhile, Jina was in the kitchen cleaning up. I kept wanting to get up and help her clear the table and wash dishes. I found myself ambling over to the kitchen to do just that. J stopped me and told me that it was Jina's job to clean up and do the dishes. Coming from a midwestern middle class family, the idea of having someone to wash my dishes was completely "foreign" to me-duh, go figure. I felt guilty in March when Jina was working in the kitchen again. I don't think the guilt for goes away quickly...

J told me that when she was growing up that she and her younger brother had a yaya. At first, I didn't understand the concept of the yaya. J took the time to explain what a yaya does. It sounded like that children have "caregivers" independent of moms and dads. I'm still not sure about the whole idea of the yaya. Does that give parents more freedom to work? Is it intended to give children more intensive care that possibly parents can't provide since the whole intent of a yaya is the close care of children in an individual family? Can the couple with a helper/yaya enjoy more time together since they have an extra hand with housework or the children? I'm not sure.

I do know this...J and I are always busy and I can't imagine what it would be like to have a helper/yaya. I do know that it's a pain in the butt just to get a good babysitter these days here in the twin cities. I also know that child care and housework take up a major part of every day in our household. The kitchen just doesn't clean itself in the evening after dinner. The clothes don't jump in and out of the washer and dryer and they can't be ironed out of sheer willpower-note, Samok Daddy is the guy who does all the ironing in our household. Making the houselhold work on a daily basis is like running a small army... the troops need to keep the barracks cleaned, they need fresh uniforms, good exercise, food, and motivation. I like to think I am in charge, but I know that J is truly the commanding general. I'll keep the illusion of being the "commander in chief" going in my head at least.

I know that having a helper/yaya would be nice, but I don't know how the adjustment would be...

Yikes...

This is Mrs. Tweedy from Chicken Run. She scares me...my kids laugh at her...but she scares me. I'm such a weenie.

Repetition...

My kids don't want to watch something new. They crave seeing things over and over again. I think we've seen chicken run at least 40 times since we got it in the mail from Blockbuster. I'm seeing a chicken prison camp in my sleep. I suppose I'll start hearing Mel Gibson's voice whispering behind me. Just some of my daily weirdness...

At the Swimmin' hole

I am so happy that Goobs is taking swimming lessons this summer. He's still hesitant in the water and is taking his time getting comfortable. He's getting there and enjoys getting in the pool with me. He just needs a combination of cajoling and patience. He went off of the slide with all the other kids in his class tonight. That's pretty good for a kid who will be turning four in October.

The Bun, on the other hand, is fearless when it comes to water. I recall her excitement when we were island hopping between Samal and Talikud. The bun wanted to be right down at the bottom of the steps off of the outrigger on the banca. If she could have jumped in, she would have. That little chick is our water baby. She gets upset if we don't take her in the big pool when we go swimming on the weekends.

I was certified as an open water diver in 2000 in Davao. Diving is one of the most exciting and fulfilling things I've ever done. Snorkeling is also "cooler than heck." Just being in the clear water off of Samal and Talikud is one of the best things I can think of. I want to share that with both Goobs and the Bun. Okay...I sort of fancy myself like a Samok Daddy Jaques Cousteau, giving his kids the opportunities to swim with the the beautiful fishes in the sea. Okay...okay...let's just get the kids in the pool and let them have fun...Let them splash each other and jump off of a diving board. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. How about we just sit in the kiddie pool for a little while.

Pass me the sunscreen.

Sorry Barry, I'm throwin' it back!

Maybe this is a load of unadulterated crap...but I was having a conversation about Barry Bonds with J. I told her that if I was in the bleachers and caught Barry Bonds' 756th home run, I'd throw it back. I am like every other purist "seamhead" that lives back in the days of yore...prior to the steroid kerfuffle...I don't want to see Barry do it. Hank Aaron didn't cheat, and Babe Ruth didn't cheat either-he just powered up on beer and ate hot dogs. I repeated myself to herabout throwing the ball back when we were in the kitchen last Saturday. She gave me that "you are truly full of crap" look and laughed at me. I guess she knows that that ball would be worth too much to throw back, despite my purist baseball leanings. The truth is she's right. I'd try to take as much money from Bonds as I possibly could. I do want Goobs and the Bun to go to Stanford after all.

Being a newer fan of baseball, J didn't know who Hank Aaron was, but she knows now. For the past five years, she's become a rabid Minnesota Twins fan. She truly has taken to the game and I am a happy husband. She understands the finer points of pitching strategy and when a team might want to pull a hit and run. We are looking forward to going to a game the Saturday after next to see the Twins and Indians. She can holler at opposing players with the best of 'em. It's absolutely wonderful. The only sad thing is there are no real Filipino baseball heroes. The only...and I repeat only guy that I even know about is Benny Agbayani. He was a spotty player with the Mets and Rockies. He plays for the Chiba Lotte Marines in Japan now. Kyle Lohse is half Filipino and played for the Twins for a long time. J used to call him her boyfriend...that is until he sucked too bad and got traded to the Cincinatti Reds. Whenever he was pitching on TV, J would yell at the set and say, "Kyle, pag tarong!!! Of course, he didn't straighten up and now he's in Cincy. Oh well...Win Twins!!! and Booooooo Barry Bonds!!!

Fitness is killing Samok Daddy

Fitness is definitely a good thing. I think that most people would rather feel better, look better, and have more energy both in the off ice and at home. No one says to themselves..."Yeah, I'm so happy that I've added ten pounds of blubber and I'm feeling more sluggish." I can't think of anyone I know that is happy buying "fat pants." I've been at this for quite a while now. I like the idea of becoming more and more fit. But, an experience yesterday way on a completely different plane. I took part in a "spinning class" with a six-foot-one amazon with tree trunks for thighs.

I have been really faithful with my swimming, biking and running. I thought I had been making progress. We had joined Gold's a few months ago because J wanted to get back in the gym too. I had been a member of the Minneapolis Downtown Y, but we don't have a Y close to our suburb at all and we both liked Gold's, so we made a decision to get a couples membership there. I hadn't taken any of the classes until yesterday. I'd just gone on my own and worked up a pretty good sweat. I felt confident that I could handle a spinning class-my male bravado kicking in. I should know better...

I kind of got the idea that I was out of my league when she walked in the spinning room. She was a full four inches taller than I am. She had huge, muscular thighs (good for biking) shoulders like a lumberjack, and bulging biceps. She looked like she could have been the perfect female contestant in an ultimate fighting contest. She was very nice when she helped me set up my bike for class...kind and helpful. Her demeanor was not what I expected when she came into the room. She really put me at ease...that is until we started the class.

It lasted for an hour. We went from restful riding to really cranked up intensity. It was rest, push, rest push, rest, push really hard, rest push really really hard, rest, push your absolute guts out, and rest again. She had me straining to limits I didn't think I could reach. I was bathed in sweat and I had the mantra, "Don't puke, Don't puke, Don't puke...." going over and over in my brain. I did make it. It was indeed good and doing it repeatedly will make me stronger for the fitness events I do want to take part in. But...my ego took a beating. The fifty something year old guy next to me (obviously in fantastic shape) didn't look like he was working that hard. I know if I keep doing this, I can be that guy. I think everyone in that class kicked my rear.

It's good to get my butt kicked. It keeps me humble and motivated. It's also going to give me the strength to chase Goobs and the Bun around the house and yard.

Want this NOW!!!

We did go to Davao in March. J and I spent one night here, at Pearl Farm. I gotta say... this place is heaven on earth. I have lost a lot of productivity on the job just dreaming about laying on the beach...swimming...kayaking...diving...and just doing nothing there.

Here I am in my cube, dreaming again. I just have to accept the fact that it aint gonna happen anytime soon.

The reason I'm an idiot

Here goes...going back to my previous post. My coworker had started weight watchers about a month before. She had started to lose weight and was excited by that. I guess I was a moron because I told her that someone wanted to give up her seat because they thought she was "preggers." For her, that wasn't what she needed to hear. As a guy, I would have used it as a motivator...silently, I would have said "up yours" and hit the gym harder. She doesn't operate that way. I didn't think that it was that much of an issue, but I was definitely in the wrong.

Luckily, it's Friday and I am working here alone. Everybody but me took the day off. Time to regroup and deal with this as a learning experience.

Shut up Samok Daddy

It's official. I don't get women. Here's the story...I was riding home on our commuter bus with one of my female coworkers. It was standing room only for us. We were pleasantly having a conversation as we stood and rode along. The bus had to make one stop before we all disembarked at the commuter station. The people standing in the row had to get off of the bus so let others depart. My female coworker moved up front right away. I was still standing in the aisle when a woman sitting next to me tapped me on my hand. She asked if my friend was pregnant, and if she were, the seated woman would give up her seat. I responded that she wasn't, but I thanked her for her kind gesture. I thought nothing of the question or my answer.

As we got off the bus, my coworker came up to me and asked what the lady had said. Here's the part where I guess I was really, really, really dumb. I didn't think about how she would take it. I'm the typical guy...If you ask me a question, I'll give you the answer. She asked me...so I told her. She did get mad...I wasn't sure if it was at me, but I knew she wasn't happy.

I went home and told my wife what happened. J promptly told me that I was an idiot, and that she couldn't believe that I had been married for as long as I had and not had the common sense to lie to her. I came to work the next morning and found that all the women in my office (note from a prior post that all the individuals in my office are women) heartily booed me as I walked in. My coworker had told them all what I had said. I had been crowned the biggest idiot in Minneapolis for the day.

I found out from them that my coworker had gotten home and spent the entire evening eating junk food because she felt rotten. I officially feel bad and I know that there is nothing I can do to take back my case of stupid honesty. I guess I have to tread lightly in the office and just not open my mouth...

Get off of your duff Dad!

HEY BUDDY...LET'S GET MOVING. WE WANT TO WATCH SOME CARTOONS... NO DADDY, BASEBALL ISN'T WHAT WE WANT. GIVE US "CHICKEN LITTLE!!!"

Northwoods daddy

I'll be the first to admit it. I'm a Minnesotan who doesn't fish or hunt. I know there are many of us who are this way. I just happen to a brother and brother-in-law, who both have boats, multiple fishing rods, bows and arrows, and boatloads of firearms. I, however, just bought one fishing rod for myself and one for Goobs last friday night. I also got some fishing tackle and a fishing license. I was ready to go!!!

We were going up north with my brother, his wife and kids, my sister, her husband and kids, and my mom and stepdad. My brother and his family were in one cabin and the rest of us were in this larger cabin/building, called the "Chalet." It was an interesting weekend, to say the least.

The jist of the whole weekend was that Samok Daddy was going to teach Goobs to fish off of the dock. I had visions of some male bonding that would really bring us together...Daddy and son fishing...you know one of those scenes in the movies. The long and short of it was that I got his fishing pole ready-with the help of my brother-in-law (I think I have it down now). We got this stuff called "Gulp" instead of nightcrawlers at the local bait shop. "Gulp" is a small jar full of fake grubs that emit a foul stench that fish love. You just put the "gulp" on the hook, throw it out there, watch your bobber, and wait for a bite.

We got on the dock, put the gulp on and got the line in the water. We waited and he kept saying"Come on Daddy, get the fish." I tried to tell him that we had to wait for the fish. I don't know if that registered with him. The whole fishing thing lasted about 15 minutes. He looked at the bobber and looked at his cousins, who were playing in the beach area. After looking at both the bobber and his cousins, he said, "Daddy, I want to play now." 15 minutes!!! All I got was 15 minutes of father/son bonding. All these visions I had of being "fishing dad" were flushed after 15 minutes. Of course...he's not even four yet. And really...I need to spend a little more time fishing before I can be considered any kind of dad/fishing mentor.

Patience is a virtue.

For the longest time in my life, I had no idea what it was like to be married. I had this vague idea that it was all about two cars in a garage, grocery shopping together, picking out carpeting, agreeing on shades of paint in the livingroom, and driving a minivan.
People had told me that marriage was all about work, compromise, communication, and giving. I thought to myself..."okay, I think I can handle that." What I've learned is that it's a whole lot more...It's about taking turns, listening (which I'm getting a little better with), not having your way, holding your tongue-even when you're dying to say something (and in my case, it's usually unbelievably stupid), late nights, early mornings, poop in diapers or in the tub, mopping pee from the floor (I did that last night, in fact) , packing trunks, moving furniture, giving hugs, wiping tears, cleaning kitchens, washing clothes, making beds, doing the right thing-even when you don't want to, and most of all...just being present. There's so much I didn't mention, but all who walk the path of commitment to their spouses and their families know what I'm talking about.

This is the toughest thing I've ever done...It takes more toughness than everything I went through in my schools in the military. Airborne school was a cakewalk compared to some days as a husband and parent. But, hey... the rewards that come from this life together are worth everything I face in a day with J and the kids.

Honha...I don't say it enough. You are the juice in my battery...the fire in my barbecue...the cool in my breeze...the groove in my moves...the light of my soul. I wouldn't want to walk through life without you and our kids. Thank you for walking this road with me.

I want my kids to know...

I've been thinking lately about my kids and how I want to make sure they are aware of who they are as mixed race "hapa" kids. I realize we live in Minnesota (scandavian whitebread central) with only my side of the family being geographically "available" for the most part. By seeing my picture on this blog, readers are aware that I am the caucasian portion of the family mix. By that virtue, my family is as white and european as I am. Goobs and the Bun know Grandma and Grandpa, aunts, uncles and cousins as white folks, who say goofy things just like in the movie "Fargo." We spend a lot of time with them and the kids love spending time with them. They have a blast as their cousins drag them around up and down stairs, in basements, bedrooms, playrooms,and through back yards. The grandparents live for those days when we drop by and they can supervise Goobs and the Bun for a little while. All of them live about an hour away, so we don't get to do it all the time, but we spend a great deal of time with them. I fear that the kids may only know the white/Minnesotan side of their wonderful background. But, I fear that is not enough...I really want my kids to know and embrace what it is to be filipino and part of that family experience.

Since we went back to Davao in March they've also gotten to meet lolas, titos, titas, and cousins. I was worried that two weeks wouldn't be enough for the kids to feel and embrace their filipinoness (is there such a word...I'm not sure). Since they sometimes take a little time to warm up to people they first meet, I was worried that some of the short time we had in Davao would be spent "warming up" to each other. Luckily, they fell right into the embraces of Lola and everyone else. It was fantastic. They became instantly attached to everyone. Their "Kuya Daniel" dragged them around just like their cousins back home. It was truly a wonderful vacation, especially for Goobs. I don't know if the Bun was old enough to really take it in, but it gave me those warm fuzzies regardless. Now, when J calls her mom every week or so, Goobs wants to talk to Lola. They have a short conversation and Goobs fills Lola in on the activities of that particular week. I know Goobs loves talking to her, and Lola would not miss talking to her apo (hey did I spell that correctly???). I know that the more that Goobs speaks with Lola, the stronger that bond will become. I am so glad that is happening. I know that the Bun will also do that, but we have to work on those communication skills just a tad more.

So, my kids have had a taste of it. But, I don't think it's enough. J does have family in Michigan also, but it's difficult for us to get out there. We will be going to visit her cousin and everyone else in Michigan in October, so we will get another bit of it then. I just think it's hard to embrace culture when you only get snippets of it through phone calls and short visits every year or two. I know that my kids are only four and two. There are events in the small filipino community here, but they are all the way across the city and it's hard to truck two small kids to these things. Even if we get to events, just having small kids makes it hard. we both work and find ourselves quite busy. I don't know how much time we'd have to network with other families in our situation. I don't know... Maybe we just need to wait a while to take part in these things. I have seen storybooks we can read to the kids. Perhaps that may be a good place to start. The Bun is beginning to talk more...we haven't had her address her brother as "Kuya." Maybe that might be a good place to start...Heck, I don't know. I guess I'm a little confused, but want to do the best for my kids. Any ideas???

Is it Wrong???

Look at them. There they are...all nice and peaceful glued to the boob tube. I know it's better to be engaged with a parent, but usually I'm flopped on the couch or floor...tired from chasing them. Sometimes throwing in one of those DVDs saves life, limb, and sanity. Thank you Disney!!! Thank you. I'll go to my rubber room now.

I don't know about you folks, but we watch a lot of animated movies in our house. In fact, that's all we've seen in the past two or so years. We rent them and watch them over and over and over, until we return them. Goobs has gotten to the point of reciting characters' lines and acting them out in the living room with the movies. I kind of feel like I've got my own little kiddy version of the "Rocky Horror Picture Show" in my home. The bun just squeals and dances when the musical numbers come on. It's all good and very cute. I just need a break from it now and then.

Just recently J and I got to see a movie that was made for adults, wasn't animated, didn't have talking animals or vegatables, and didn't have musical dance numbers in the credits with all the characters doing a variety of bouncy-funky dances. It was refreshing to have a movie with suspense...a little fear... a little whodunit... But, it seemed like a guilty pleasure. It was late in the evening, after we got the kids to bed. Starting a movie at 9:00 or a little later isn't good because we've been hard at work...at work, followed by chasing our short people all over the house, bathing them, picking up toys, cleaning up the kitchen, and maybe folding a little laundry. I found myself nodding off about halfway through the movie. It was a little after 10:00 and I was done. After nodding off a half dozen times, I realized that regardless of how fun it was watching a movie, I couldn't hang. I did stay up until the end, but I found I had to watch the movie over again a few days later. J was smarter than I was. She said she was tired, stood up, and walked off to bed.

I have always loved movies. They've provided great escapes for me. Am I getting old...is my life just too complicated? How do other people do it? Is this just a period in life where my life is dominated with movies like Chicken Little, Over the Hedge, Flushed Away, Chicken Run, Toy Story, Monsters Inc, Happy Feet, Madagascar, The Wild, Cars, and Finding Nemo...? I guess I should just abandon myself to the next wave of animated films...I guess I'll be waiting for Ratatoille (Hope I spelled that right...)

It's so fun to wake up in the morning and get my kids ready. The Bun gets cranky if I don't get her in the kitchen to have her milk and cereal...I get back from the gym around 6:15 in the morning. I creep into their rooms and usually the Bun is already bouncing in her crib, ready to get out and chow down. Goobs is our late sleeper... He whines and pulls the covers back over his head. He eventually gets up and is at the breakfast table...but it's a chore. Breakfast with the family...it's one of the treats in life. CAN'T BEAT IT!!!

I see that someone else has hitched up balloons to a lawnchair. This guy in Oregon traveled 183 miles with his lawnchair and balloons. All I would need is my lawnchiar, balloons, a cooler with sandwiches and peach Fresca, and some water balloons. That would be fun, wouldn't it?

I don't think J will let me do this. Looks like I'll have to find some other entertainment. Any suggestions?

Dragged myself out of bed this morning at 4:40 for my swim. Ugh...it sucked getting up early, but once I got in the water it was okay. It was still quiet when I got back to the house to hustle to work. J was still in bed. She's usually up and in the shower by the time I'm back. I gave her a friendly poke in the back and she just groaned and told me to leave her alone. She said she had to work a little later, so it was alright if she slept a little later. I finished cleaning up and getting dressed. I wanted to wake Goobs and the Bun up, but my even though she's laying in bed, she's got very acute hearing. I was sneaking down the hallway to the kids' bedrooms and I heard, "Leave them alone...don't wake them up." She ruined my fun...

I am starting to get into this routine of getting up and getting to the pool or the gym. Run, swim bike...run, swim, bike...over and over. My closest friend finished an ironman last year. That made me feel like a true "Wus." I know that everyone that competes at any level has to start somewhere...at the beginning. I really want to compete at a small level...just a mini triathlon. It's baby steps now...Maybe if I keep at it, I'll get stronger and faster. I just have to chip, chip, chip away and not expect instant results.

4th of July Part Deux

Continuing on with the holiday at the Samok household...

This was the first time I've bought fireworks. When I was younger, my cousins would travel through South Dakota and get fireworks. Fireworks were considered illegal in Minnesota when I was growing up. My relatives would come back with roman candles, M-80's, cherry bombs, buzz bombs, and the ever popular black cats. We spent time blowing up garbage cans and making fresh cow poop explode. Gentrified city kids we weren't... From then until Christmas and New Years Eve in the Philippines in 2000-2001, I really didn't mess with any fireworks.

I remember having the most fun on New Years Eve. with paputok. J's family went out and got a whole bunch of "triangles" for that night. I had no idea what triangles were. When I first saw them, I thought they looked like the folded paper footballs I made and played with in junior high study hall. Of course they smelled of gunpowder and had large fuses. J's cousin had fashioned these great punks to use to light the triangles. They were actually old tree branches cut off with hollowed out smaller ends. He broke mosquito coils, shoved large, long pieces of them into the ends of the branches and lit them. The tips glowed red hot and were great for lighting the triangles at a distance. Triangles, I found, produce a surprisingly big bang for their size. I remember almost having to clean out my shorts when the first one went off. I must have jumped at least two feet. We spent the next hour or two lighting off the triangles we had. I hadn't seen my wife gleefully jump around and giggle before. It was as if I was seeing a new side of her...the bad girl that liked to make things go BOOM. Her neighbor a few doors down brought down a "Judas Belt" (a huge ass string of firecrackers that sound like a 50 Cal. Machine Gun) and lit that. Man...we had a lot of fun that night. Alas...that was the last night Davao has had people lighting off any kind of fireworks. Mayor Duterte has clamped down on it and now New Years Eve is quiet in Davao...BUMMER. It's safe, but quiet.

Well, anyway...Minnesota just has basic spark fountain fireworks. Goobs and I went to Wal-Mart to buy fireworks. We came away with a $30 box of them. I was pretty proud of my purchase until my neighbor told me that a guy in her sister's neighborhood spent $350 on fireworks...and after seeing what was going on Wednesday night, I think some folks dropped a grand on fireworks.

Well...I got the lawnchairs in the driveway. Popped the popcorn, and got everything set up. To ensure safety, I put the fireworks box on the patch of grass in front of our townhouse. My wife asked why I had set it there, and I replied that I didn't think the grass would burn. Well, I had blown off a couple of the smaller ones, when I encountered a big surprise. The automatic sprinklers that are strategically placed on our patch of grass elevated from the grass and began spraying. My fireworks were dead center in the middle of the patch...getting doused. I screamed and ran toward them. My wife was laughing and screaming at me to save the fireworks...I ran over, not without tripping, to the fireworks. I did get them. I was soaked from the spray. Luckily, the plastic covering that most of them had saved the day. We were able to blow all of them off. We were able to do this fairly well. J claims I'm a clod at lighting the fireworks and that she is much better at it. After she grabbed the punk, lined up her fireworks, and set them off, I have to agree with her. She's had a lot more experience blowing those things off. Although, I want more practice. Daddy wants to be the keeper of the fireworks for next year. I will be the gunpowder warrior next year. Luckily, my kids sat in their chairs and clapped as we lit them off.... they thought mom and dad were cool...I wonder how long that will last. If they were any older, they'd know dad is an uncoordinated dork, who can barely light fuses.

4th of July Part One

Ah, the 4th of July was a memorable one in the Samok household. We spent the early part of the day at a suburban festival. The kids ran around, found a ground level fountain cooled off. It was so hot that both Goobs and the Bun were able to dry off with little or no effort. Other than a soggy diaper change and a new shirt, no harm...no foul. The parade wasn't scheduled until 2:30, so that wasn't in the plan. Naps were the order of the day. We had to high tail it out of there. Never does it go quite the way we plan.

Goobs announced to me that he had to pee. As luck would have it, we were parked right next to a bank of porta-potties. Goobs went to the first one in the row, inspected it and promptly deemed it "icky." He then went to check every porta-potty in the row, saying the same thing. He finally settled on the last one, but not without complaining about that one too. I could hear him getting settled in. I breathed a long sigh of relief...this wouldn't take long. Just at that moment, the city siren went off. It was 1:00. Heck, I didn't know why it went off, but it had something to do with the festival. This bad boy was was not just a loud one, but a screamer!!! I could vaguely hear Goobs in the porta-potty screaming. I could tell he was disoriented and afraid. I reassured him by yelling that there was a firetruck outside and that was it's siren. Goobs loves firetrucks, so I thought that was a fitting solution. Bad move Daddy. Goobs quickly figured out how to unlock the porta-potty's door and ran out. His shorts were down to his ankles. He burst out into the parking lot hobbling, looking for a firetruck. Daddy had to chase him down to pull up those shorts. The boy didn't care a lick about exposing himself. He was on a mission to find that firetruck. He was seriously disappointed about not finding it. It was a chore just to strap him into his car seat. That boy just wanted to see that firetruck.

Oh well...it was interesting. There's more to tell about the day, but that will be in the next post.

Ugh...growing up in public

So...I took Goobs and the Bun to Supercuts a few weekends ago to get some haircuts. Things usually go well when we do this. They staff at our neighborhood supercuts has a big bowl of suckers for kids. My wonderful offspring are well known as sucker abusers there. The two of them have gone through eight or nine suckers during hair cutting sessions in the past.

The Bun naturally follows her big brother. I suppose that's the natural order of things with a younger sibling mimicing her older brother. Goobs decided that the sofas and padded benches were great for walking on and jumping off of. Of course, the Bun decided this was great fun too. Up and down and around again...all this was happening while waiting for haircuts. There they were...two kids, squealing with glee as they, ran, bounced and jumped all over the furniture there. At least they weren't running over to the giant sucker bowl. I finally got them to stop. I did have to grab Goobs after he used the shampoo stand as a barrier. I would go one way, and he went the other. It took me a while. I would have laughed, but I was too embarrassed. I scolded him and he broke out into sobs and buried his head into my chest. Okay...we finished with that little episode. I thought it was over...Again...Daddy was wrong.

Goobs then came up with a couple of words that surprised me. I'm not sure where he got them or how he put them together. I'm still not sure about it. He popped up and shouted,"BUTT FACTORY!!!" I told Goobs that we don't say words like that. He responded with, "BUTT FACTORY" even louder. I tried a few more times to quiet him and he repeated it over and over...I finally just gave up...and then he gave up. Thank God he quit when he did.

I just want to know one thing...HAS ANYONE HAD THAT KIND OF THING HAPPEN TO THEM??? WHAT DID YOU DO???

An Island of Testosterone...

I work in an office with four women. I am the only male in the room. All the other advisors at the school are female. Unfortunately, we don't have our own offices. We are in cubes in the same room. Students have to meet with us in the cubes. Sometimes our conversations drift out from the cubes and privacy becomes a problem. We are very good at closing our ears to students in distress talking to other advisors in their cubes. We are good at what we do-at least I like to think so. We are all professionals, who love our jobs and the students we come into contact with. But...I still feel someowhat alone in what I do.

I am an island of testosterone awash in a sea of estrogen. Every day the conversation in my office centers around "fun shoes" or "cute dresses." It also sometimes focuses on relationships...new boyfriends or new babies. I never hear any conversations about last weekend's game, power tools, or pickup trucks. There are days when I just want to eat with my fingers, not use a napkin, and burp really loudly. I want to be a man...around other guys...sometimes. Just so I can revel in my own guy behavior. I just have a hard time doing that in the office. The only guy I have regular contact with at this point is my four year old. He does like talking about trucks...albeit, they are his matchbox trucks. He does like to burp and pass gas, but we do have to teach him manners. His mom is really strong on the manners aspect. I have to go along with that...She's laid down the law that there is to be no "finger pulling" in our household.

It's not all bad. The woman who has the desk next to me, does drop the occasional F-Bomb
and the other women do let down their hair a couple of times a month. I can't say I don't enjoy myself with my coworkers. They took me flower picking in the city as a form of stress relief in the middle of the day a couple of weeks ago. We just walked around with a pair of scissors, snipping the occasional flower and cool looking plant in the downtown park and various downtown neighborhoods in Minneapolis. I was a little self conscious at the time, but I had a good time, feeling like the rogue lawbreaking flower picker-I had to give it a little male bad boy aura. Hey...if I get caught, I'll get in trouble with the cops-that sounds a little bit more macho, doesn't it???

We are getting a new advisor in the office. I'm hoping that it's a guy, but I guess it won't bother me if I have to go flower picking with one more woman. I'll get over it.

Minnesota Traffic...

I know most folks think we Minnesotans live out in the country, amongst trees and lakes. I really think a lot of people think we are rural dwellers, who don't get out much unless it's to go to the cabin up at the lake. I think that a great deal of people believe that we don't have traffic snarls and snags that major metropolitan areas are known for. For a lot of us...that is true...we don't have to sit in our cars, listening to traffic reports telling us how crappy the congestion is. For others of us...we have arrived. Now we're listed as having some of the worst traffic problems in the nation. The land of 10,000 lakes, home to folks like Sven, Ole, and Lena, tractors in the toolies with manure spreaders, and Minnesota nice on the roads, is now growing into kingdom of road construction, endless delays, and road rage.

I grew up in a small town here. We were brought up to be unassuming "you firsters." Moms taught their kids to be polite, and even if you have the "right of way", give it up, because ...we're not that kind of folks. Confrontation was not the realm of most rural Minnesotans. We were more apt to let you go first and then whisper, "Well who does that fella think he is anyway?" Our attacks were always after the fact and when you weren't there to punch us back in the noses. There were no confrontations, but nasty looks, clucking of tongues, or long sighs. That was it...

Hey, that was then...But this is now. Last week a teenager was killed as a result of road rage here in the Twin Cities. It's really beginning to bother me. When we came back to the states in 02, I thought that I wouldn't be dealing with traffic to this degree again...I was wrong.

I lived in Seoul on and off over a 12 year period for a total of about seven years. The traffic in that city was unbelievable. There were days that drivers would be in their cars for hours on end, going just short distances. Seoulites are passionate and wear their hearts on their sleeves. Many times I saw two motorists taking a few swings at each other following a fender bender. I even witnessed a cab driver climb onto a bus and kick the coin counter on The best thing you could do was take public transportation. The subway was awesome and you could always get somewhere on time if you wished to. Buses did weave in and out of traffic at great speed. I was told that drivers were paid according to how many times they made it through their routes during their workdays. Buses were truly an adventure. There were times when I would take a cab and sometimes that was a mistake. I would sit, twiddling my thumbs...waiting...waiting...waiting...

Then again, cabs in Manila are just as bad OR WORSE. I can recall taking cabs for just short distances in Makati when it took between 45 minutes and one hour. I think everyone has been in traffic jams in Manila, where the traffic is at a standstill and vendors traverse between the cars plying their wares. But it seems like in traffic like that, most Filipinos just accept it and just wait it out and just relax.

I've been taking a commuter bus into my work. The school that I work at is in downtown Minneapolis. It takes me about 15-20 minutes to get to the park and ride that takes me downtown. One of the problems that I'm running into now is that the road from my subdivsion that leads to the highway to the park and ride is congested every morning. Since it's the only way onto the highway from our subdivsion and neighboring subdivisions, everybody has the same problem. Sometimes it takes me 15-20 minutes just to move 1/2 a mile...That's the 1/2 mile I need to get to Hwy 169. Arghhhhhh....

But...it's about to change. We will be getting a new commuter bus service that has a major stop about a1/2 mile from our home. I'm worried that everyone else will be jumping on that bus at the same time I will be...So...will I be going from a farther park and ride to one right next door. But...with everyone else on the bus...will I be the victim of BUS RAGE??? Only time will tell.