Start Everyday Positive

That's exactly what I do each and every day.

At 6.15 on school mornings, I'm happy and alway looking forward to seeing my sons as I go to wake them. It's truly a highlight of my morning. They're generally pretty cheerful when they wake, which is always an added bonus, but everything changes at this point.

The only thing they need to do before breakfast is get dressed, and wash their hands. These are relatively simple tasks, but not for two 6 year old boys. There are too many shiny baubles along the path from their bedroom, to the bathroom, to the breakfast table for them to avoid. Each toy, picture, stuffed animal and dead spider holds the greatest amount of interest to them. It could be something that generally no longer interests them, except for now.

There are countless times where Daddy is saying, "Boys, are you coming down for breakfast?",  to which they reply, "Yes Daddy." and five minutes later I'm saying it again only to hear, "I'm not dressed yet" or, "I can't find my shirt". So, 25 minutes after I wake them, one boy is on the step stool with his nose in the pantry and the other has made his first lap of the whole house only to drop a pair of socks in the middle of the Living Room floor before plopping down in his chair and asking, "what's for breakfast Daddy?"

Breakfast is usually a lot of fun because Neal and Matthew have a lot to talk about. It could be about one's dream the night before, or what toy they might take to school for the bus ride, or sometimes, they'll sit and read the cereal boxes and advise me how many grams of carbs their Cinnamon Squirrels (Trader Joe's Cinnamon Swirls) has. I enjoy breakfast time because they are rested and alert. Then breakfast ends and it's time to do the "Morning Trio", which consists making their bed, brushing their teeth and getting their school bags ready to leave. The morning trio usually starts at 6.55 in the morning, and we have to be out the door and headed for the bus by 7.25. That's a nice, big, 30 minute window to get these tasks done and have a little play time before going to the bus stop. Along about 7.15, I give them a heads up, with a follow up at 7.20 that they need to have their shoes and jackets on.

It never ceases to amaze me, and you'd think I'd learn by now, but I haven't. These two couldn't get out of the path of a slow moving turtle. So each and every day, my positive start gets whittled down to getting stressed about getting to the bus on time. In the end, when were waiting for the bus, the positive energy I started with works its way back into my brain, not because I know they are getting on the bus and I don't have to pick them up in 8 hours. It's because Neal and Matthew will always come up, give me a hug and a kiss and say, "I love you Daddy".

I'm a lucky Dad for sure.

Sick Day

Monday mornings are pretty good days. Especially when we have a really good weekend as we did. We spent Saturday and Sunday in Newburyport, Mass visiting my Mom for her 84th birthday, the first one since Dad passed.

It takes anywhere between 3-1/2 - 4 hours for us to make the trek to Newburyport, which is about 2 hours further than it was when Mom and Dad lived in Avon, CT. Life changes, and here we are traveling a little further to celebrate Mom's birthday. Anyway, it was a nice visit, as it always is. I get to see my Mom, and my sister as well since her and my brother-in-law live right there (my sister truly looks after Mom) in the same town. The only downside to the visit was that the weather turned pretty sour and we had between a 5-6 inch snowfall overnight, which compounded our return home.

Prior to this trip, Matthew had been on a Dad-imposed "house arrest" since Tuesday. It sounds pretty rough, and it is somewhat. Basically, a Dad-imposed "house arrest" is a no TV week (seven days), which arose from a disrespect episode from a few days earlier. A no TV week means no TV, no video games, nothing; just reading or playing. This is tough to enforce since Matthew has a twin brother who had no sanctions imposed. Usually, I can deal with the push-back I get, but what I hadn't taken in account was the trip to Massachusetts during the upcoming weekend. As Saturday drew closer,  I became aware  that something had to be done. On Saturday morning, just as we were leaving, I advised Matthew that sanctions would be lifted for the trip only, and that as soon as we got home on Sunday he could not enjoy the same 16:9 liberties his brother could. He was fine with that (I have to admit, he took his punishment pretty well overall).

When Monday morning arrived, Matthew had a wicked little cough, kind of a bark. I knew that if I sent him to school, Nurse Jen would be calling somewhere around 10.30 saying that Matthew had a temperature (which means no temperature, just coughing all over the school and making others sick... trust me, I've been down tis road before), so I decided to keep him home. As I left to take Neal to the bus stop (the end of the street) I could see the sadness in Matthew's face that today would be extremely long knowing no TV, and no video games would be allowed.

As I waited for the bus, I called my wife and asked for her input. She said, "do what you think is right". When I returned about 10 minutes later, I announced to Matthew that restrictions would be lifted and one hour of TV would be allowed. This primarily happened because I had painting to do in our family room, which needed completion before Friday when new furniture is to arrive. The only way to get things done is to let children enjoy the things they love... TV.

When I finished my work, I took Matthew to Subway for lunch, which was wonderful. We talked, laughed and joked, and had a really nice time. He was so much fun to be with. When we returned home I was in good spirit, and done with work for the day so we played "Angry Birds", and "Cut The Rope". What I experienced was a wonderful Father/Son day with a little boy who enjoyed it just as much. These days are truly memorable when they are one on one.

To me, a "sick day" is a day to either take care of your sick child, or enjoy a special moment with them that they will always remember.

The Grinch and the Tooth Fairy

Friday was a day the boys were off from school due to Parent/Teacher conferences. With Monday being a holiday, that was the Perfect Storm. The teachers get a 4 day weekend, and the parents... well, it's not a 4 day weekend is it?!?

Long weekends can be tough for me. I truly relish a full school week because I have so many things that need to be done each and every day, and last week was no exception. We've been having one hell of a Winter here in New York State, and the last round of bad weather included a nice coating of 1 - 4, or 6 inches of ice along our 400 foor driveway, and no warm weather to help me get rid of it. Last week was the start of a short lived, but loved warming spell. So each day, I'd go out for any period between 2 and 6 hours to clear ice. I was making some pretty good headway until Thursday, when I suddenly remembered that Friday was Parent/Teacher conferences. Damn, I lost a day.

As a result, my wife and I attended the Parent/Teacher conferences which cut into the day from noon until about 2 PM, so there was some mild entertaining of the boys with haircuts mixed in before we went to the school. When we got home from the conference, it was my hope to have them play outside while I worked at the ice issues on the drive, and my wife went about her work day from home. See this as Daddy trying to keep the boys away from Mommy while the old man worked outside... see where this is going? Thinking this might make Daddy a little cranky?

There were so many interruptions between the "Dad" calls, and the "he hit me" whinging, that Daddy has his best Grinch face on almost all afternoon. I'm trying to work, and keep them engaged in sledding, biking, scootering... whatever, but I'm also being completely selfish and wondering why these two 6 year olds can't keep themselves entertained and active, all while leaving me be to be miserable in my task.

Afternoon turned to evening, and we all settled in for a nice family Friday pizza meal, when Neal announced that his top front tooth was sideways, hurting and about to come out. He wants to eat his pizza, but the tooth hurts so much. Mummy to the rescue (Daddy doesn't like this kind of stuff), and the tooth comes out. The front tooth is a two dollar tooth fairy coup.

Bedtime comes, and the boys are fast asleep. Neal's tooth is tucked under his pillow. {Note: two weeks earlier, Matthew lost a tooth, and guess what? The T.F. forgot to come... wasn't going to let that happen again} Daddy's goal just before retiring to sleep is to removed the tooth, and slip the cash under the pillow while trying not to wake the boys . Mission accomplished, the cash has replaced the rotting tooth. As I completed the tooth fairy task, I did what I do every night. I looked at my boys, kissed them, and told them I loved them. But today was different. I was a selfish Grinch for most of the day, and I felt bad about it.

I think they know just how much I love them... even when I'm the cranky baby!

PorkChop the Hausfrau

haus·frau

 noun \ˈhau̇s-ˌfrau̇\


Definition of HAUSFRAU

: housewife

Origin of HAUSFRAU

German, from Haus house + Frau woman, wife

First Known Use: 1798

That's what my brother lovingly refers to me as. I know that he really doesn't mean it, or does he? It certainly sounds like something that harkens back to the 1950's or 1960's. Housewife conjures up all kinds of negative thoughts from men. Men think that housewives have it made... Housewives sit on their asses and do nothing but watch bad TV and eat bon bons, or they spend amazing amounts of money on shopping, or eating fine lunches with their girlie friends.


I recall hearing guys saying things like, "I don't know what the old lady does all day long... how hard is it to watch a couple kids, keep the house clean and cook me some dinner?" Well, having been a kept woman, I can tell you me this one important thing. She ain't sittin' on her ass!!! That's for sure!! She's busting her tail making sure your children are being looked after quite nicely, and she's making your sorry ass a meal, even if it comes out of the freezer, or it's been ordered by dialing seven digits. Consider yourself lucky!


Being a parent is tough enough, but being a stay-at-home parent is tougher than any full time job I ever had. It's even worse when you keep an important job, and do the everyday child rearing. I know because I was a Program/Project Manager for a fine company, and I was the guy who made certain that the boys were up, fed, off to child care, performed my regular job until 5 PM, then picked the boys up from child care, got them fed, bathed, storied and off to bed by 7.30PM. Keep in mind, laundry and home cleaning chores were included in these tasks. Lets not even go into detail of the typical male house-chores that are required like the lawn, painting, fixing, etc. Let me say one thing, it wasn't a 9 to 5 job. I had one of those already. It was actually 8 to 5, but lets not split hairs. Don't get me wrong, my wife was, and is the biggest help/supporter for to me, and I'm damn lucky to have her.


Hausfrau? I think not! Child Project/Program Manager? Oh, hell yes. 


These days, I no longer have a "real" job. I am a real stay-at-home Dad who performs all the aforementioned tasks, and maintains a house, 3 acre property, makes sure I'm around when there are snow days (and there's plenty of them),make breakfast, clean house, cook dinner, do homework, go to T-Ball practice, swimming, Skiing, do (excuse me, I hate the phrase) play-dates, volunteer at the school, and my latest trick, learning how to do a television show for Public Access Television. 


Yep, I'm a real Hausfrau!

You get what you get and you don't get upset

That's something I say to my boys almost every day. It's gotten to the point where they'll say even though they don't mean it. But they have no problem saying it to each other when they know they can get a rise out of the other.

Our boys being born was not only amazing and magical, it came with a some very serious issues, which I will not get into on this blog. For those who know me, they know what we have gone though. Suffice to say that it is behind us now, and we have these two lovely little boys who are growing so rapidly, making our lives much richer that we had ever thought.

I recall how proud I was when the boys were first born. On some weekends when my wife would watch the infants, I'd go hang with my brother, and my buddy. We'd get on our bikes and ride all over Long Island. We'd hit our local watering holes along the way. Our favorite was T-Bones Boneyard, across the street from the Huntington Cemetery. It was one of the few good biker bars left on Long Island that didn't carry the real nasty biker attitudes. It was just a great drinking bar where riders would meet up to have a few and swap stories. There was this crusty old biker named Pete, who I got along with because of my  bizarre sense of humor. He's always laugh at my jokes or snappy comebacks and say, "Paulie, you're a sick boy". He was good fun to be around.

One time Pete says, "Hey Paulie, let me see a picture of those boys". I proudly whipped out my wallet and displayed their picture. He takes one look, and says, "Paulie, that one on the left, what's his name?". I said, "Matthew". He says, "And the other one?". "Neal", I replied. Pete says, "Matthew is gonna be trouble". I asked him why. He said that it was in his eyes.

I never forgot what he said, and I've repeated it so many times since that day, and the reason I repeat it is simple. Pete was right. Matthew is a wonderful, loving little boy, but he's a real handful. Since the day they were born, Matthew has been a tough one, and it hasn't changed one bit since 2004. He will fight me at every opportunity. I guess that's the payback my Mom always told me I'd get when she said, "you'll see when you have kinds and one turns out just like you". Holy crap, that does happen.

No matter. Neal and Matthew are the lights in our lives... no matter what. You get what you get and you don't get upset.

The ramblings of a stay-at-home Dad

I'm a 54 year old Father of twin six year old boys who is also a stay at home Dad. Geez, one must be thinking that at 54 years old this dude ought to be a Grandfather. Well, here I am, edging closer to 55 and part of a team that is raising twin sons. It's not for the faint of heart.

I still remember the day when my wife told me she thought she was pregnant. It was a cold, but sunny January day in 2004. We'd been home about a week from our Christmas holiday in England where we had been visiting family (my wife in English). I was tooling around in my detached 2-car garage, smoking a Macanudo and talking to a friend on my mobile when my wife called to me from the house. I said that I'd be there momentarily and it was typical for me to finish what I was doing before seeing what she wanted.

I carried on with my conversation and about 30 seconds later she called for me again. At that point I figured it had to be important because I usually had a 10 minute grace period before coming in. When I got in the house, my wife was holding one of those pregnancy test strips, and she was shaking. She said, "I think I'm pregnant!" We both stood there, amazed, dazed and confused before smiling at each other and kissing and hugging.

This was not planned, and it certainly wasn't expected. In 1992, while being married to someone else I was told that I had a double varicocele, and that having the operation performed would likely help me become a Dad. To explain what a varicocele is, the following was taken from this source:


http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0002263

A varicocele forms when valves inside the veins along the spermatic cord prevent blood from flowing properly. This causes the blood to back up, leading to swelling and widening of the veins. (This is essentially the same process that leads to varicose veins, which are common in the legs.)

Varicoceles usually develop slowly. They are more common in men ages 15 - 25 and are most often seen on the left side of the scrotum. Varicoceles are often the cause of infertility in men.

Well, I had the procedure done, and trust me, it wasn't what I'd consider fun. About 6 weeks later, I went back to the doctor's office where they provided me all the necessary tools to fill a small cup for my sperm test. Another two weeks goes by and I get to see the doctor again. He advised me that the procedure wasn't a success and that I had a one in six million chance of ever getting someone pregnant. Now picture all the air coming out of a balloon and you'll know how I felt.

Here I am 47 years old, married (again) to a wonderful woman. We were living life knowing children weren't going to be a part of the equation. We traveled a lot, we did things together, we enjoyed separate activities sometimes. I had my Harley, which had me spending a lot of time with the boys, and a motorcycle club (another story). We were DINK's (Double Income, No Kids) and we liked it. We were even planning on building a log cabin in upstate New York. Now all that freedom is going to come to a screeching halt. We weren't upset about it. We were surprised.

A couple of weeks went by and we had an appointment with my wife's doctor in New York City where she worked, and used to live. We went for the ultra-sound, which that in itself is pretty exciting. They applied the cold, blue gel to my wife's tummy, and the technician moved the probe around until, bingo... there's a baby. We thought, wow, how cool. About 5 seconds later, the technician says, "there's the second one". What? we exclaimed. Two?!?

We left that office stunned, amazed and happy. This stage was only the beginning.