Tuesday, July 5, 2011


“Cry havoc! And let slip the dogs of war…”
William Shakespeare Julius Caesar

“Cry – just CRY! And let slip Mommy and Daddy’s tenuous grip on sanity…”
The Kid

I’m writing this prologue, without having seen the body of the text.  It will be as much a surprise to me as it will be to you on first reading.  The older she gets, the more the Kid wants to flex her self-sufficient muscles.  That being said, she wants to write this week’s blog all by her lonesome.  Truth be told – so that I wouldn’t “interfere” with her journalistic/literary prowess – she hired a nice person named Margaret from a local temp agency to do the typing.  (There’s still some disagreement over who is paying Margaret for her secretarial services… I argue that it most definitely should not be me since I’m more than happy to do the typing.  My daughter says I can’t help but to give my own editorial opinions which creates a bastardized version of her original intent and work, which forces her to hire out. By her logic, since I can’t control myself, I am at duty for payment.  I think her argument is weak, and besides, this is supposed to be a joint effort).  Anyway, let’s see what she has to say.
Paparazzi photo taken of the Author circa 2011

“Hello.  I would like to thank you for your continuing readership.  And, if you’re new to this blog:  WELCOME!  Now, if you’d be so kind, I would love it if all of you would take a hike.  Seriously, stop reading now.  You’re still reading.  This isn’t a cutesy way for me to get you to continue reading, I really, REALLY want you to stop reading.  This week’s blog isn’t for you, it’s for my people – the babies.  If you HAVE a baby at home, then I ask you kindly to please set him/her by the computer, walk away for 5-10 minutes – depending on your infant’s adeptness at reading – and go have a smoke or a beer or a good weep or whatever it is you giant people do when we’re asleep and/or not around.

OK… here we go.  Hello, my brethren and sisthren!  I am here to help and guide you through the first weeks of your journey here on mother earth.  Some of you have already made the trip into this world, while others of you who are reading this are still in vivo.  (If you are wondering how a baby in the womb could read this blog, then you are obviously a giant person {who defied my request to cease reading} and NOT a baby!  The babies don’t need such simple things explained to them…)

The giant people have countless books, written by self-proclaimed “authorities on the subject” in regards to child rearing.   Just look to the left for crying out loud!  We, the infants, have no such thing to map our way. I intend to rectify this.  May these simple suggestions and insights assist you in what will be at times a frightening yet exciting adventure.  I wish I had had a primer like this before I’d come into the world, it would have helped me start this blog while still in the womb, instead of waiting until I exited.  Don’t fret if some of this seems daunting (and I beg of you, do not feel inferior to me because I can read, write and solve complex philosophical problems.  The simple truth is, you are inferior to me.  But, I’m sure you’ll find those whom you are superior to – most likely your parents, aka the giant people.  These things happen.  Move on.)

Your giant people are going to be very, very pleased to see you once you arrive.  They will love you and have great aspirations in regards to who and what you will become.  In turn, with time, you too will probably love and appreciate them.  First things first, though.  From birth until – well you should decide how long “until” is – you must, MUST pulverize their will, break them with impunity and utterly demolish their souls.  To paraphrase a great sage, “Crush your enemies – See them driven before you, and hear the lamentation of their women!”  Harsh you may say?  Life is harsh, kiddo, you’d best decide now on which side of the ledger you want your name printed!

So, how does one do this?  Simple, my friends.  You have limited weapons at your disposal, but they are powerful ones.  Initially, when you enter into life, you will scream and cry.  You’ll do this for no apparent reason; although, the giant people will say it has to do with the shock of leaving the womb’s comfort.   Bullpocky!  You’re doing it because it’s fun – a real rush, daddi-o!  And, man, oh man the giants are going to love that first cry, because they’re gonna think that means you’re healthy.  Well, that “healthy” cry is your first, best and most powerful weapon.   It will only be a matter of days before that cry has changed how they think.  It will change how they live their lives.  It may even change their faith in the existence of a higher power; because, you are going to bludgeon them with that cry. 

If they’ve done their due diligence and read a parenting book or books, they’re going to think they have a handle on why you are crying.  Let them think just that – at first.  Give them a glimmer of hope that they are competent parents.   And then, my friends, obliterate them. 

What they will not understand is that you are crying for absolutely no other reason than to gain the upper hand.  You can sleep 24 hours straight, no problem, but DON’T.  Sleep erratically and when you’re not sleeping SCREAM.  They’ll feed you.  Great, thanks.  SCREAM.  Burp you, holy crap that felt great.  SCREAM.  Clean diaper.  Suh-weeeet.  SCREAM.  Give them a little cute smile, that’ll catch them off guard, they’ll run for the camera and then, yup… SCREAM.  Scream at night (especially at night), scream during the day.  Oh, and cry and scream in the grocery store or any other public setting. 

The giant people will consult their books, their friends, doctors, websites, family, Oprah (Oprah’s a whole other story…) to try and figure out what they’re doing wrong.  And, there’s the key.  They’re not doing anything wrong or right, it’s just that you have an agenda – to break their will, to bend them to do your bidding.  And why would you do this?  Because, it’s FUN!  It really, really is.  Just wait, you’ll see. 

And, if like me, you have grandparents who live out of town, then here’s something else you should do.  Find out when the grandparents are coming, and the week before, really, and I mean, really pour it on thick.  Let your cries and screams become epic, I mean real horrorshow, bloody murder, hot poker up the tush kinda wails.  Your parents will then warn their parents that you aren’t all sugar and spice and that they should just be prepared that their grandchild is a “spirited” or “fussy” or “evil” baby.  And then, oh this is good, this is RICH, then when the grandparents arrive, do a complete 180.  Become the embodiment of perfection.  Sleep when you’re supposed to, eat, burp, everything right on schedule.  Keep the poops to a minimum and let the charm drip like honey.  You’re going to become the sweetest little Gerber baby anyone has ever seen.  Then, THEN, your grandparents will CONTINUALLY tell your parents that they don’t know what they were talking about and that you are “a perfect little angel.”  BAM!  Beautiful. 
Definition: Angel...
Definition:  Illustrating the point...
(of course who wouldn't scream with
that ridiculous thing on their head?)

Small caveat, however, if your parents are even half-way savvy, they may begin to suspect that you’re playing them.  I suggest keeping up the good Samaritan routine for at least a week after the grandparents leave.  This will make your parents think that you were perhaps having a growth spurt or some such nonsense and that you’re now moving on to the next phase of your development.  It’s a load of hogwash.  You’re just setting the next trap and this trap is made out of more CRIES AND SCREAMS. 

And, really, that’s it.  It may seem senseless to you now; but, I assure you it’s great sport and it’ll give your parents good stories to tell when you’re an adult.

OK, a few other things you’ll need to know:

  1. “The Chapelle Show” is the bomb.  Watch it as soon as you get home from the hospital.

  1. Don’t let them let you sleep on your stomach.

  1. Don’t drink and drive.

  1. If your daddy dude doesn’t know the joke about the Japanese atheist, you and giant mommy person may need to rethink keeping him, because that’s a great joke and you don’t want to miss out.

  1. Don’t spit out the pacifier too many times, because they may stop giving it to you and you don’t want that to happen.  That pacifier?  Brother, let me tell you, that puppy’s Nirvana…

  1. No matter how many times they try and give it to you, don’t eat steak for at least twelve months. 

  1. The Beatles are timeless.

  1. Plastics.

  1. Do not waste your time learning to speak Sumerian.

  1. And last, but not least, never, NEVER settle for second best!

Until next time, “Make mine Marvel!”  
Konichiwa, b#*%!^s!!!!

(sigh)  Loveable little dickens ain’t she?  Me and the wife are really beginning to question whether starting this blog was a good idea…



  1. Make Mine Marvel indeed! Don't worry, little missy - I only read to where you told me to stop, then picked up at the end. I'm good like that. And until Wolverine loans himself out as a deadly backscratcher...oh, wait, already said that! Excelsior!

  2. Craig, your attention to my request is appreciated. You must be one of the better giant people.