I'm not fat! I'm just a big asshole!

There are several reasons why I enjoy having a cocktail (or two, or whatever) at the end of a day:

1. Things went exceptionally well and I would like to celebrate the wellness before it goes away. Because we all know that very, very soon, things will most likely be unwell.
2. Things were a little bumpy but hey, the kids are finally locked in their rooms and tomorrow is a new day.
3. The weather just screams "whiskey!"
4. The weather just screams "vodka!"
5. From the moment the alarm clock went off, or actually from ten minutes before the alarm went off, the day was like a pair of rusty pruning shears, jabbing me in the brain. In the same spot, over and over and over again. Until the spot became a festering boil that could only be soothed with booze.

Wednesday was one of those days. Not the awesome day, or even the slightly bumpy day. I had a day filled with jabs. And although each event and irritation may not seem like much, together they added up to something that made me want to scream. And since some of you have a low tolerance for monotony, I'll just summarize the bulk of the day by saying it included a lot of unappreciated meals, misplaced items, exposure to stupidity and missed social outings. If, however, you want more details, you can read about my day here. Otherwise, you can skip reading about all the bullshit and get to the creme de la creme.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

One of the things that I love about the club where my kids play tennis is that they have a designated area for ping pong. This super accessible area is just out of my sight, which means not only do I not have to witness the chaos, I don't have to listen to it, either. Unfortunately, though, I kind of wish I'd been able to see and hear the most recent chaos.

After their lesson and while they're waiting for their sister's lesson to finish, the boys usually head off with their friends to play ping pong, and Wednesday night was no different. The only difference with this last Wednesday night is that there were a couple younger boys (who play hockey, not tennis) that wanted to play. Since my boys know these kids, they were more than happy to include them. So when Charlie walked back to where I was sitting, in tears and holding his elbow, I was like "how in the hell do you hurt yourself playing ping pong?" Well, this is how:

Charlie was playing ping pong with Twin A or, more accurately, Charlie was beating Twin A at ping pong. In the process of losing, Twin A gets angrier and angrier. After he loses, Twin A walks over to my kid, stands directly in front of him and aggressively argues about the score. Charlie says "Fine, you lost 9-11, not 8-11. Whatever." and walks away. As he's walking away, Twin A runs at my kid and body slams him against the wall, holding him there. My kid says "Hey, you're 10 and I'm 13, but you're a lot bigger than me (no joke - the kid probably has 40 pounds on Charlie) so don't do that. Get OFF!" Upon hearing this, Twin A lets him go and immediately decides that he heard my kid say "Hey, dude, you're fat. And you're fat. And did you know you're fat? Wow, you're fat! Get off of me because you know what? YOU'RE FAT!" After Twin A backs up, Charlie removes himself from the wall and walks away, only to be nailed in the right elbow by a flying ping pong paddle that Twin A decided to throw at him. After hurling the paddle, Twin A runs off to find his mommy.

Then the fun times really got rollin'.

Since I know the parents of these twins, I say "Hey, Blondie, what just happened here, and why is my kid's elbow swelling up?" Twin A is now seated next to his mom and immediately cues up the always successful waterworks and "Well, he called me fat!" defensive combination, which should completely justify why he smashed another kid against a wall. Because according to Twin A, not only did Charlie call him fat while he was getting acquainted with the wall but he called him fat several times during their super friendly game of ping pong which, by the way, Twin A lost 8-11.

While I stood there with Charlie trying to figure out what the hell was going on, Blondie, and her blondish husband, included the following points in their son's defense:

• He gets bullied a lot at school for being fat, so he's very sensitive about it.
• He's very competitive and sometimes has a hard time controlling his anger.
• They didn't see what happened so therefore they can't get involved.
• They don't fight their kids' battles for them.
• Kids will be kids.
• Twin B says that yes, he heard Charlie call Twin A fat. Several times, in fact.
• Maybe Charlie and Twin A should go out to the parking lot and finish the argument by fighting it out.
• Boys will be boys.
• They're sure Charlie's elbow will be fine (even though he has a tennis tournament this weekend), but their son is now suffering from emotional abuse.

And then, after I said "Well, Charlie, I guess you should be more careful about who you beat at ping pong," they left. Without apologizing and basically giving their son permission to shove another kid against a wall when he loses, they left.

After talking to my older son and another boy (who happens to be friends with both Charlie and Twin A) who witnessed the entire incident, and being assured by both of them that Charlie never called the kid fat, I handed my kid an ice pack for his elbow and headed to the front desk. There, I learned that children under 12 aren't supposed to be anywhere in the club without parental supervision and that there are surveillance cameras everywhere that will have the entire incident recorded. Oh, and we need to take a picture of that bruised arm so that we have something to attach to the report.

Seriously, if only they would have apologized...

Not Exactly Hallmark

On Saturday we went to a wedding reception for a former babysitter that is gorgeous, smart, soon-to-be very successful and also moving to London, where her husband is already employed. Since living quarters in London aren't exactly known as spacious and the happy couple will have to pay shipping costs to haul anything, they subtly stated a preference for wedding gifts: Cash. Just cash, please.

Although I considered just handing the dough over to the bride and skipping the card entirely, I realized that she wouldn't have anywhere to put it since she has an amazing sense of style and her college degree is in fashion, so her wedding dress probably didn't have pockets or come with a bridal fanny pack. Shockingly enough, I was correct. But since I'm also not a big fan of dropping $5 on a card that says something corny like "Your wedding day may come and go, but may your love forever grow" or "May your love bloom brighter and your companionship grow sweeter with each passing year," I decided to have Zoe make a card for them instead. I explained to her what we we needed the card for (Nick & Danielle are getting married, they're going on an adventure, please put our names on it), and after breaking out the Crayolas and giving her a blank piece of white paper, this is what she created:

Yes, she managed to include a boy and a girl, but unfortunately the girl is holding something that closely resembles a chainsaw. Yes, the boy has a smile on his face, but he also has something very red and very prominent oozing from his nose. Yes, she included names, but only two of them. No, she doesn't play M-rated video games or watch horror movies. So seriously, WTF.

I ended up finding a pre-printed coloring sheet of a boy and a girl standing together under one umbrella and gave her very specific instructions about how she should color it and after we all signed our names on the back of the picture, I shoved it in an envelope with some cash and we headed to the festivities. Zoe even wore a dress.

I truly wish the happy couple nothing but happiness, rainbows, fun adventures and zero hangovers, and if it weren't for the barrage of mosquitoes that wanted to turn my ankles into a buffet I would have stayed at the party until all the kegs were fried instead of running home to my tube of Cortaid. So, Nick and Danielle, sorry I left the party so early, I wish you all of the above, and just in case you would have preferred to receive the chainsaw picture instead of the cheesy umbrella picture, let me know and Zoe will be happy to bring it over.

Unexpected Empathy

Although Zoe loves all animals, worms and toads, she hates bugs. There have been moments during the summer when she has chased the boys around while wielding a sword in one hand and a water pistol in the other, only to run into the garage shrieking like a girl, all because she saw a bee. Bees are definitely the king of her hated bug kingdom, but her dislike of flies, mosquitoes, ladybugs, dragonflies, and box elder bugs comes close. Oh, and she also hates ants.

A few days ago, Zoe and Charlie were tolerating being around each other and watching the movie Honey, I Shrunk The Kids. I was a little worried about how she would react when the bees swooped in sounding like B-1 bombers, but she handled it pretty well and didn't hide behind the couch or anything. She was more upset about the fact that her bedtime arrived before the movie was over, but after reassuring her that it would be on DVR and she could watch the rest of it the next day, she agreed to go to bed. It was then that I realized that she had stopped watching right before the ant (creatively named "Anty"), after saving the kids from the scorpion, gets attacked and dies.

Now, I've seen how this girl reacts when surrounded by ants. Let's just say that she cannot stomp her New Balance size-10's fast or hard enough, and will happily smash ants into the concrete for hours. So even though Anty was like a pet, the kids are all sad and Ron sheds some tears, I wasn't really worried about how Zoe would take the news about a dead ant. After all, she's personally responsible for ending the lives of thousands of them.

The next day while she was watching the movie again, I took advantage of the time to get a few things done since I knew I wouldn't have to console her during the giant bee scene. But then we got to the part that she had missed and the scorpion appeared. Sensing a bit of distress, I sat on the couch with her as she watched Anty take the fatal blow. She sat there in silence with her mouth hanging open, and then said: "He died? He's dead? How can he die? It's Ron's pet ant! He can't die! Does he get a new Anty? Promise me he gets a new ant!"

She looked at me, and I could see her eyes start to get glossy. Within ten seconds, she started sobbing, devastated by Anty's death. If only the kindergarten teacher who thinks that my daughter has a little bit of a mean streak could see her now, crying over a dead ant.

"Yes Zoe, I'm pretty sure that Ron gets a new pet ant in the sequel." This, and some fruit snacks, seemed to make her feel better, and she managed to finish watching the movie, never even flinching when Nick almost got sucked up and chopped into little bits by the lawn mower.

Meanwhile, I think I'll file this moment away in my brain because it might come in handy at some point. Like this summer when she is freaking out about "all the stupid ants" and is obsessed about destroying all of them, maybe I'll casually mention the fact that one of those ants might be someone's pet, so perhaps she could STOP BEING INSANE AND QUIT STOMPING ON ALL OF THE ANTS!

Just Get the Wii/Xbox360/PS3/DS

Per the request of a few friends, I am posting some pre-Xmas video game console buying tips for anyone that still doesn't own a Wii, is wondering if their ten-year-old should be playing M-rated games, or doesn't know that Xbox is owned by Microsoft. For those of you that pre-ordered "Modern Warfare" or have a child that runs around jumping on imaginary Goombas, feel free to add your own buying tips and opinions below.

To Wii or not to Wii. If your kids are under the age of 18, buy a Wii. If your kids are over 18 and at college, buy them, and yourself, a Wii. The console comes with one controller and one Nunchuk, so you will need to buy at least one more of each. These controllers burn through batteries, so you're best off getting the recharge station as well. We also have two Wii MotionPlus controllers, which have an enhanced range of motion and are great to have for "Tiger Woods Golf" and "Wii Sports Resort." Also, if your TV is mounted on the wall, get a wireless sensor bar. Do you need to buy a plastic tennis racquet, golf club or sword? No. Do you need a plastic steering wheel? For "MarioKart," yes.

Xbox360 is for more than just "Halo." Our house has an Xbox360 on two different TVs, because I play "Guitar Hero" and I got sick of sharing. In other words, we love Xbox. The game selection is huge, the systems don't freak out anymore, updates are easy to download, hooking up to a wireless network is a cinch (after purchasing a wireless adapter), playing online is fun, you can stream Netflix movies, and of course there's "Halo." I know that it's M-rated, and Charlie has been playing it since he was seven. In fact, that's the "Halo3" game guide that Zoe is studying in the picture above.

M-Rated stands for "Maybe". While there are a lot of M-rated games that I won't let my kids play, there are a few that are fine. How do you figure out which ones are okay? It's called research. "Halo" is fine, "Grand Theft Auto," not so much. They also love "Left4Dead," the "Call of Duty" series, and "Fable." Yes, characters shout out occasional obscenities in these games, but so do kids on the junior high bus. Are there images of violence? Yes. Are they giving my kids nightmares and making them immoral? No. If you still need to be convinced that M-rated games don't create horrendous, violence-loving freaks, find a teenager that gets good grades and that you respect, and ask him what video games he plays. Chances are, he's not sitting in the basement playing "Viva Pinata."

My kid has a PS2. Why do we need a PS3? Because it's awesome, that's why. It's wireless network-ready, "Little Big Planet" is by far one of Zach's favorite games ever made, Doug uses the Blu-ray player, "Ratchet & Clank" is fun to play because of the motion-sensing controllers, it has a huge hard drive, it operates with minimal fan noise, and it's pretty. You can hook these consoles up with either an HDMI or component cable, and they're extremely user-friendly.

But we travel a lot. The Nintendo DS is a necessity for a kid that spends any amount of time in the car or sitting at hockey/tennis/ basketball tournaments. There is a huge selection of affordable games, the rechargeable battery lasts forever, and you can play games wirelessly with friends. The Sony PSP is great too, especially for sports games, but it's a little heavier than the DS, and more expensive.

Parents that weren't and still aren't interested in video games themselves are usually tentative to bring consoles into the house no matter how much the kids beg, thinking that doing so will put an end to the days of playing outside, reading, communicating with other humans, or doing homework. My boys read almost an hour a day, practice piano, play outside with friends, play tennis, and are able to have a mostly intelligent conversation with other people. We have a strict "no video games on school days" policy, but on the weekends when Doug says, "Hey, anyone want to shoot some zombies?" I know that I won't see them surface for a few hours. At least I get an occasional text message that says, "Hi we need chips."

Yes, They Get It

Watching your kids grow up is pretty amazing. Between mastering the alphabet, riding a bike without training wheels, getting on the school bus, and learning to not point at people while you laugh at them, a parent definitely feels a sense of pride.

An area of growth that is often overlooked is a kid's ability to identify great TV shows that incorporate a decent story line, great writing, memorable music and a little bit of dark humor. There is a lot of crappy programming created for kids, but with a little bit of parental influence, someday they will be able to choose shows that will make you proud.

A couple weeks ago when Zoe was sick, she rediscovered Dora, and basically the entire lineup of Nick Jr.'s mind-numbing shows. Although it's funny to listen to Zach and Charlie's MST3K-like commentary, we eventually had to take back control of the remote since a person can only hear "backpack backpack, backpack backpack, backpack backpack, gooey geyser, backpack backpack" so many times before they will voluntarily rip their own head off. And I'm pretty sure that a future episode of Max & Ruby will include a visit from Child Protective Services.

Lately, the kids have been watching classic episodes of Looney Tunes. I'm happy to say that even though they are seeing, on average, 526 acts of violence per episode, they haven't asked for anything from ACME, started carrying around meat cleavers, and they're not hoarding sticks of dynamite. Instead, they laugh at Porky's speech impediment and love to watch Bugs dress in drag over and over again. I, on the other hand, had forgotten how much I love Slowpoke Rodriguez. You gotta love a mouse that loves tequila.

When the WB started running edited versions of South Park, I was ecstatic. It was like South Park for Beginners. I don't let my boys watch the show without me, because first of all, I love it and don't like to miss it. But also it's a great opportunity to see just where their moral compass is pointing. Do they recognize the fact that it's not very nice of Cartman to always make fun of Jews? Or fat women? Or the handicapped? Or poor people? And that he's greedy, selfish, and rude? Yes, and even though they know he's a foul character, they know that he's funny as hell. They also know that he's fictional and if they were to ever act like that, I would be forced to make empty threats.

Zach is old enough now to watch a lot of unedited episodes of South Park, but I still watch them without him first, just in case. When I find one that I know he'll love, and he laughs at all the right spots, it makes me laugh even more. Also, it's a reminder of just how educational junior high is, and how important it is to remember...a teenager knows more than you think, and he knows why it's funny that the Jonas Brothers were spraying little girls with their hot, white foam.

They Didn't Say Anything About a Crowbar

Zoe came home from kindergarten today with an assortment of paperwork; a worksheet emphasizing the letter T, a notice that a child in the classroom has flu-like symptoms, and a newsletter with information about the upcoming Halloween parade.

The Halloween parade consists of all the kids in the elementary school putting their costumes on and walking through the halls, where parents are crammed in with cameras, waiting for that 2.3 second window when they can catch a blurry shot of little Frankenstein or Princess Jasmine sprinting by. Or, in more recent years, Pimp Daddy or Hooker Harriet.

The newsletter is very specific about what is allowed and what you should leave at home. No masks, face paint, hair dye, fake blood, S&M accessories, guns, knives, grenades, machetes, throwing stars, swords, rabid animals, or anything that would be considered religiously or racially offensive. There goes my idea to dress Charlie as a pregnant nun.

I know that there is a zero tolerance policy when it comes to violence in the school, and obviously anyone with a brain knows that a kid should leave weapons at home, but wouldn't it be nice if the policies were a little looser for Halloween, as long as the accessory is clearly made of plastic and necessary for the costume? Any kid that is weird enough to voluntarily dress up as a policeman knows that a cop carries a Glock 17. He doesn't catch the bad guy by bludgeoning him with a breadstick and then giving him a good talking to.

I used to be really motivated to keep all toy weapons away from my boys. I thought they were unnecessary and that they would never miss what they never had. We were going to be a weapons-free household! But after Charlie, at 2 years old, nibbled a graham cracker into the shape of a gun and started shooting his brother with it, I realized I was being unrealistic. Now we have a "weapons drawer" in the playroom, a "weapons basket" in the garage, and yet my boys still haven't shown any desire to harm small animals or rob banks. Plus, watching graham cracker crumbs shower the floor gives me way more anxiety than watching Charlie pelt his brother in the head with Nerf gun darts.

A girlfriend of mine has a kindergartner who has been busted a few times for head-butting his classmates. Is my friend a good parent? Absolutely. Is her husband a champion UFC fighter who is teaching his son some really cool moves? Not to my knowledge. Does this kid head-butt because he plays with swords and guns at home? No. He head-butted Little Travis because he was using a creative way to get his point across, and honestly, Little Travis probably had it coming because you can only steal someone's crayons so many times before you have to deal with the repercussions.

Zoe wore a pirate costume to school a few days ago to celebrate the letter "P", and the first thing she said was "Cool! Where's my sword?" For the Halloween parade she'll be wearing her fireman costume, and although she won't be bringing her ax to school, she's going to be really pissed off if someone takes away her crowbar.