The Further Adventures of John the Baptist

You may recall that, for the past month, I have been dressing up as John the Baptist every Sunday morning in an attempt to teach Sunday School for the first time in my life.  You may also recall that the number one thing I had managed to impart as of last week was that I am very fat.

The problem is those older kids.  They sass-talk me and don't pay attention, and then they tell everyone that I have clearly been eating too many locusts, but they are already jaded and half-grown.  Luckily, with each passing week, I rotated to a younger group of kids.  Finally, this past Sunday, I had Ruby's class.  Pre-school and kindergarten.  Surely they would be into what I was doing.  Right?

Let me take a quick pause here to make a statement in which I will attempt not to pass any judgement.  The behavior of the children at my church is....ummmm....how can I put this?  Less than controlled?  Now, on one hand I have a lot of respect for the teachers, and the pastor who can get through an entire children's message with kids yelling and interrupting and being generally ridiculous.  On the other hand, where the heck are these kids' parents, and why is it okay for this to go on?  I know that kids will be kids, but man, if I ever did anything remotely close to what these kids get away with in church, you can believe that I would have been yanked out of that sanctuary before you could blink.  I would have been ejected from church so quickly that only God would have seen it.

And in case you were wondering, this is the church I grew up in.  It is, in some cases, the exact same adults who taught my Sunday School when I was a kid.  So it's not like I have arrived at some new, differently cultured place.  And now I am digressing, but I guess the point I want to underscore here, is that the kids interrupt each other, and their teachers, they run off in the middle of lessons, and they generally are, in my opinion, fairly rude, and the teachers just either ignore it, or sigh and ask the kids to stop.  But it doesn't stop.  And me being new, well I wasn't sure just how much leeway I had in this department.  Could I tell the kids to be quiet?  Was I allowed to put a hand on them to get their attention?  At what point was it acceptable to punch them in the face?  None of this was covered in my training, of which I had none.

So there I am, standing in front of Ruby and her class, and I see the boy.  Now, after complaining for the last two paragraphs I feel that I should mention that most of the kids are pretty good.  None of them would have lasted five minutes in MY old Sunday School classrooms, but for the most part they at least allow things to progress and spend their time whispering and giggling amongst themselves without being obnoxiously disruptive.  Not the boy.  I can't tell you his name, because that's obviously not cool, but anyone who goes to my church and is reading this already knows who I am talking about.

There is one boy who is the model of disruption.  He clearly needs to be on some sort of medication, and I don't mean that in a funny or snarky way.  More like in a, wow, I hope he actually gets on some medication for his own good, sort of way.  He bounces around all over the place, shouting, laughing, crashing into things, and generally making it hard for anyone else to pay attention.  He's not a bad kid in any sense of the word, he just seems to be completely unrestrained and totally unable to control himself.

I started my talk about the life of John the Baptist and it seemed to be going well.  The kids were paying attention, and Ruby was super excited that I was teaching her class.  The Boy answered all of my statements by saying something like "No you're not," but I ignored him, as I had seen everyone else do.  It was around the end of my story that I noticed that The Boy had been pulling pieces off of the plastic table cloth and eating them.  I'm not sure if I was supposed to do this or not, but I pulled a big chewed up piece out of his mouth and told him to stop.

Luckily it was time for a craft.  Unluckily, the craft I brought involved markers and bowls of water.  We were going to write on coffee filters and then dip them in water and watch as the writing disappeared, appropriate for talking about baptism.  Everyone followed my instructions very well, except for The Boy, who drew pictures of Wii games he liked to play and splashed water everywhere.  And the sillier he got, the sillier everyone else got, and soon it was chaos in the classroom.

I took their bowls of water away, and tried to talk to them about the baptism liturgy, and why we do the things we do, hoping to keep their attention for a few more minutes.  At this point The Boy just got up and ran out of the classroom, shouting and laughing.  I did have an assistant that was helping me hand out bowls and stuff, so she went out in the hallway to fetch him while I finished the discussion.  This brought us to what should have been the end of church, and the end of what I had planned.  Sadly, church went almost 20 minutes late.

I had nothing.  No plan, no more activities.  I got the water out again, but things quickly deteriorated again and I had to take it all away.  Finally I asked them to play quietly with the toys that were in the room.  This was their cue to run around and scream at the top of their lungs.  And every time I would get them calmed down again (they were still young enough to fall for the "who can be the quietest" game), The Boy would just start shouting and running again, and that would be the end of it.  But what really was the end of it was when The Boy ran into the wall and I saw the blood.

There was a lot of blood.  It was all over his face and coming out of his mouth at a pretty steady rate.  As it turns out, he had knocked a tooth out.  We cleared everyone out of the area to look for his missing tooth as I prayed that it was one that was supposed to be coming out soon anyway.  The class helper took him to the bathroom to clean the blood off of himself while I continued the search for the tooth.  At least everyone was finally being quiet.

I found the tooth eventually, and we confirmed that it was a baby tooth, although no one was quite sure if it had been loose to begin with or not.  He was pretty pleased with himself for having knocked out his tooth, and the everyone else in the class was now in total awe of him.  He was a hero.  The rest of the time was taken up by The Boy trying to think of what toy the tooth fairy was going to buy for him, and the rest of the class asking to look at his new smile.

I don't know if there is a point to all of this.  Maybe just that I don't understand the new rules of raising children.  Maybe I just wanted to tell you about this crazy thing that happened.  I don't know.  My father always says that each generation of parents is perfectly suited for raising kids to grow up in the environment that the parents themselves grew up in, but the problem is that the environment has changed, and so the parents really have no idea what to do in this crazy new future that their kids are living in.  That seems true to me, but if there's one thing I'm sure, it's that my weight will not be the thing that Ruby's class remembers from last Sunday.

Swear Words For Parents

So there you are, living your life, happily cursing like a sailor, when suddenly, it happens.  Boom!  You become a parent.  Now, completely out of the blue, you have to drastically change your speech patterns so as not to scar your children for life, or worse, get the dreaded phone call from the teacher asking where your kid learned "that word."

For some of us, this is not so difficult a task as we never swore that much to begin with, while others of us regularly spiced up our everyday conversation with "effin' this" and "effin' that."  But regardless of whether you were a big cusser, or an "only when I dropped the piano on my foot" cusser, there will come a time, as a parent, when the desire may suddenly come upon you to utter unspeakable words in front of your young progeny.  It is at this time that we must take a lesson from the Mormons.

I don't know if you know any Mormons personally, but I do, and they are not allowed to swear.  That is, there are certain words they are not supposed to say.  This doesn't mean they don't shout angry words of frustration or curse in their own way; they just don't use the same words we do.

They cannot say "damn it" for instance, because that is bad, but they can say "dang it."  They can also say "dampen," "damage," and "dandruff."  And they do.  They also say words like "shiz," "fetch," "motherfreaker," and "son of a biscuit."  In their intent, all of these words mean the same thing as their blasphemous counterparts, however in their execution they come across as harmless nonsensical words or phrases that everyone can agree are super cute.

I myself have often found myself dropping groceries, being smashed in the face by a baby head, or unable to find my keys when I am five minutes late out the door for preschool, and without warning I start to say something inappropriate.  Luckily, with quick thinking I am able to turn these words around in time to avoid catastrophe.  In case you are not so quick on your feet with your words, I will offer some of my best last-second recoveries for you to study and use whenever you are feeling upset in front of the kiddos.

"Fuuuuuudge in a blanket!"

"Shiiiiiiii-Shi-Shi-Shi-Shimmy Shimmy Shake!"

"Mother Thumper!"

"Sheeee-aaaaahhh-eeeee-oooot!'

"Fuuuuuun Fun Fun!"

"Ding Dong Merrily on High!"

"Gaaaaaaarazzumfrazzum!"

"Holy ShhhhhhNikes!"

"Fuquintennial!"


So remember parents, don't curse in front of your kids.  It's bad.  Instead, shout nonsense words at them until they think you have gone crazy and decide to leave you alone.  Then take a nap.  And if they wake you up from your nap?  Repeat step one.

The Funniest Thing About Girls

As Ruby was getting ready for school today, she was very insistent that she wear a dress and tights instead of a shirt and pants.  I don't really care about that, so we picked out a nice warm winter dress and some (I think) matching tights.

When we arrived at school, one of the other little girls walked right up to her and said shyly, "I like your dress."

"Oh, thanks!" said Ruby happily.

"I like your tights too."

"Thanks."

"Do you like my skirt?" the girl asked Ruby.

"Oh, yes, I do like your skirt," Ruby replied sweetly.

At this point, one of the boys in the class just shook his head and sighed loudly.  "Boy, that's the funniest thing about girls!" he proclaimed, and then went back to building a tower with his blocks.

The Top 5 Inappropriate Lines in Children's Books

As a parent, I read a lot of children's books.  We read stories at bedtime; we read stories during the day.  Our house is full of picture books.  Yeah, some of them are a little trite and obnoxious, and you expect that so it's fine.  But then there are the times when you almost can't get through a page with a straight face.  Seriously, what were these people thinking!?  I mean, I know kids won't get it, but c'mon people!  Taken out of context, or sometimes even IN context, these just seem inappropriate to me.

#5 - What Floats, by Julie Aigner-Clark and Nadeem Zaidi

Where did that bubble come from?  Why are there no other bubbles, and the only one that has appeared is floating next to that kid?  I think we know the answer.

#4 - One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish Blue Fish, by Dr. Seuss

Oh, Dr. Seuss, you are full of silliness and wackiness.  And creepy old drunk guys apparently.  It's true that you do go on to say on the next page that he is drinking ink, but is that really any better?  If I were a kid, I would not want sleazy Uncle Yink looking at me like that during story time.  He likes to wink AND drink!  Fun!

#3 - Green Eggs and Ham, by Dr. Seuss

And Dr. Seuss shows up again.  This whole book could really be taken out of context inappropriately, but the page I can't get through without snickering is "Would you, could you, in the dark?"

#2 - The Story of Babar, by Jean de Brunhoff
This one is going to take some explaining.  You know Babar, right?  He has a cute TV show, and tons of books about him.  I thought I remembered him too, until I actually sat down with the original book at bedtime one night.  The basic story is this: Babar runs away after his mother is killed by hunters and moves to the city, where he buys clothes and starts smoking.  Then, after the elephant king dies, he goes home and claims the throne for himself on the basis of his new suit and tobacco addiction.

This is all well and good, but the little subplot in there is what really freaks me out.  First, the reason they find Babar in the city in the first place is because his two little cousins run away and discover him.  See?

"Why," he says in astonishment to the Old Lady, "it's Arthur and Celeste, my little cousins!"  So we have established that these elephants are Babar's cousins.  And they are little.  How little, you may ask?  Well, here is a picture of them being scolded by their parents (Babar's aunt and uncle) for running off, after they have found Babar.

They are quite young.  And they are Babar's cousins.  I cannot stress this enough, because check out what happens next...

Babar has somehow or other managed to "become engaged" to his eight year old cousin on the car ride home!  I don't know how they do it where Jean de Brunhoff is from, but to me that is not appropriate.

#1 - Snow, by Roy McKee and P.D. Eastman
And so we arrive at the number one, most inappropriate line in children's literature.  This one I cannot read with a straight face, no matter how hard I try.  And the illustration does not help.

Really?  That's the line you want to write for the kiddos?  "Do you like it in your face?  Yes, I like it any place!"  Seriously!?

So to all future children's authors out there.  Please, think about what you are writing.  I don't care if the kids don't get it.  We parents have to read this stuff, and the children will eventually want to know why we are smirking.

Good Names For Parenting Blogs

As the writer of a highly successful parenting blog, as well as the writer of a highly successful opera blog, I would like to offer a hand up to some of my fellow would-be bloggers.  Writing posts every day is the easy part, you will not need any help with that bit.  No, the biggest challenge that you will face is picking out a good name for your new blog.  Unfortunately, all the good names, like "Tenor Dad" are already taken, but don't give up hope!  There are still plenty of mediocre names out there for you to choose from.

The most important thing about naming your blog is that you want the name to reflect the theme of the blog.  By simply looking at the name of this blog, "Tenor Dad," you can instantly tell that this blog is about the experiences of someone who has no money and doesn't get enough sleep.  Now, let's assume that you want to start a parenting blog about your experiences as a parent.  You could name it something boring, like "The Parenting Blog," but that would be bad, because that name is already taken.  Instead you should try to capture a slice of what it is like to be a parent in one short phrase or sentence.  To get you started, here are some great ideas for blog names that are NOT already taken.

Why is This Broken?

I Used To Be Awesome

Pooping With the Door Open

I Remember Sleep

Shower Interrupted

Where Did You Hear That Word?

Avoiding the Candy Aisle

Put That Down!

Go Ask Your Mother

Go Ask Your Father

Go Ask Your Grandmother

I'll Go Get the Wipes

Okay, okay, "Pooping With the Door Open" is actually taken, but it's not a parenting blog, so I still think it could work.  I hope these ideas will be useful to you as you set out on your exciting new venture, and if they're not, well, you can always start an opera blog instead.

The 84th Annual Academy Award Nominations

It's my favorite time of year again!  Oscar season.  That wonderful month in which I try to cram as much cinematic culture into my eyeballs as possible.  In previous years (read: pre-children) there was not too much cramming to do, because I used to go to the movies all the time, and when the nominations were announced I would generally have seen most of them.  This has certainly not been the case in recent years, although I have to remind you all that last year I had shockingly seen 7 out of the 10 on nomination day.

This year I have not seen 70% of the nominations.  I have only seen a third of them.  But that's okay!  There is still time!  And it's not like I haven't seen any of them, right?  I mean, I've seen:

The Help - A good solid movie.  It was funny, it was sad, and the performances were incredible.  No surprise that they racked up the most acting nominations (three) of any film this year.  I don't think it will win the big prize, but I think it will take home an acting trophy.

Midnight in Paris - We just watched this the other night, and I thought it was awesome.  It's the kind of movie we would get more of if cultured nerds ran comicon instead of, well, you know, regular nerds.  Owen Wilson does a great Woody Allen, and the rest of the movie was basically like a comic book movie, with time traveling and real life cultural superheroes.

Moneyball - I'm not a huge sports fan, but I'm a sucker for a good baseball movie, and this was a great baseball movie.  The cool thing about this movie was that it had all the elements you need for an exciting sports movie: washed-up plucky underdogs coming together to scrape out a victory, only it all happened off the field.  The plucky underdogs were the GM and his accountant/personal assistant.  Congratulations to them for making a non-sports sports movie, but have it be about sports.

And then we have the other six nominees.  Due to the new nominating rules, there will now be anywhere from five to ten best picture nominees selected, and this year there happened to be nine.  Well, good.  One less movie for me to try and find.  Of course I still have to see:

The Artist - I am aware that there is no dialogue in the movie.  I am also aware that it is most likely amazing.  I love a lot of movies with little to no dialogue, so that's all fine with me.  I expect it will be similar to the first 30 minutes of WALL-E, only will fewer robots.

The Descendants - This is top on my list to see.  It's supposed to be sad and funny, and George Clooney is great in that type of film.  I was so pulling for "Up in the Air" two years ago, and then stupid old "The Hurt Lucker" had to go and win.  So this year I'll be pulling for "The Descendants."  I think.  I mean, I haven't even seen it.  It could be terrible.

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close - Ugh.  I do not want to see another 9/11 movie, even if it is awesome and has good people in it.  I just don't need to subject myself to that.  I don't need cinematic catharsis, and I don't enjoy watching those events unfold and replay over and over again in pop culture.  I guess I'll try and see it anyway, but still; ugh.

Hugo - Now this one I will seek out and see.  Numerous friends and family members have recommended it to me, and I have wanted to see it all along anyway.  Can't wait.

The Tree of Life - I am a little scared of this movie, I'm not going to lie.  It sounds confusing.  But I'm up for it! 

War Horse - I think this is that play I wanted to see a year or two ago, isn't it?  Is this based on a play?  It has a horse in it, right?  Is it about a horse, or is that title just a metaphor?  There is a horse in the poster, so I think there will be a horse in it.  But will it be more "Seabuscuit," or more "Racing Stripes?"  I guess I will have to see it and find out.  (does the horse talk...?)

So that's the slate for this year folks.  Other quick observations:
- No Pixar in the animated film category for the first time ever!
- The Best Director nods automatically give front-runner status to The Artist, The Descendants, Hugo, Midnight in Paris, and The Tree of Life
- Gary Oldman finally got his first oscar nomination.  Can't believe it took this long!
- A Separation is the first foreign screenplay nominee in 5 years!
- George Clooney actually was nominated twice, once for acting, and once for writing!
- The film with the most nominations?  Hugo, with 11!

Singing My Way to Fenway

My mother called me a couple of days ago to tell me about a contest she'd heard about on the radio.  Apparently, if I went down to the mall on Saturday there would be a national anthem singing competition hosted by the Boston Red Sox, and the winner of the contest would get to perform the national anthem at Fenway Park before an actual game.

This sounded cool, so I tried to find out more information.  I saw it listed on the mall's website, but they didn't really list a time.  (10am-4pm didn't seem like a specific enough time to me)  Over those next few days I practiced singing The Star Spangled Banner in the shower, and driving to and from work, just to make sure I remembered the words, but I mostly put it out of my mind.

On Saturday morning, remembering the contest, I called the mall to ask what time the actual singing competition would be, and how one might sign up for it, but mall info desk lady had no idea.  Well, I didn't want to drag the whole family out to the mall all day, so Ruby and I headed over just to check it out and do a little reconnaissance work.

What we found when we arrived was that yes, the competition did indeed last from 10am until 4pm.  Basically, after filling out a form, you just sang the anthem in front of the video camera, and then at 4 they would announce the winner.  It was an ongoing all day type of thing.  Last year's winner was hanging out when I got there, and she appeared to be a 10-year-old girl.  This made me nervous, as I was no longer sure that I was the demographic they were looking for.  Last year's runner-up also looked suspiciously like a 10-year-old girl.  Wondering if I was wasting my time, I stepped up to the microphone.

Well, I did a good job.  I could tell, because everyone got really quiet and I attracted a bit of a crowd, many of whom congratulated me afterward and one even showed me the goosebumps on her arm (not kidding).  I don't tell you this to brag, but only so that you will understand that I felt good about it, and so deemed it worth my while to return to the mall at 4 o'clock for the big announcement.

I paced around the mall nervously, feeling a little silly for being so jittery.  This was a singing contest in a mall, and they were probably looking for a cute kid, or a twangy country-type person (the event was hosted by the local country station after all), and I am on the roster of the Metropolitan Opera, so what do I care about this goofy contest, right?  But on the other hand, if I can't even win a silly singing contest in a mall, then what right have I to be a professional singer?  Plus, Simone has never been to Fenway Park, and it is on our wish list of things to do in the next year, so this would be perfect.

As I sat there listening to the last few contestants, I started freaking out in my mind.  Was that girl better than me (no)?  Was that little kid cuter than me (yes)?  The good feelings I had had in the morning had all but disappeared, and when they stood up to announce the winner, I pushed my way into the crowd, wondering what I would do if I didn't win, and even scarier, what I would do if I did.

And then they called my name.  I won.  I will be singing the national anthem at Fenway Park for a Boston Red Sox game in the upcoming season.  I am ridiculously excited, and I will obviously let you all know the date when I find it out, so that you can all buy tickets to the game, and when I get up to sing, you can all chant "Tenor Dad!  Tenor Dad!" and do the wave.  And I'll be looking for you, so you'd better come.

My Fitness Consultation

Good news!  My stint in Coke Rehab is working!  I have lost almost 20 pounds, and am now on my way to being actually not fat, instead of just relatively not fat.  I know this because I had my fitness consultation yesterday.

My second trip to the gym went much better than my first trip.  I brought sneakers, for instance.  I didn't do much actual fitness, but I was weighed and talked about my general exercise routine (none) and what I like to eat (cheeseburgers).  Surprisingly to no one, I am overweight.  But it's not as bad as I thought.  I only have to go down 5% body fat to be considered healthy.  I'm sure I can convert 5% of my body fat to something else pretty easily.  Maybe I will try to make some extra bones.

My fitness consultant spent most of the time explaining to me what the rates are for hiring a personal trainer, which was very helpful, but I tried to make it clear that I am an opera singer, and so have no money.  This did not seem to dissuade her in the least.  Persistence is a top quality in personal trainers and fitness consultants.

She did take me around to see all of the different pieces of equipment and, as we approached each area, she told me in great detail how much it would cost for her to tell me how each piece works.  By the end of it, I had a very clear understanding of the cost of fitness.

Well, I decided to opt out of personal training, but I did go on something called an apocalypitcal machine (or something like that) which was basically a machine that got you in shape using the everyday activity of float-walking to get your heart rate up.  After ten minutes of float-walking I was ready to grab Edward from the nursery and head to school to get Ruby.

Overall I am quite happy, mostly because my weight was down, but also because it seems pretty doable to work out at the gym a few times a week.  I just need to figure out how to afford their gym nursery, or wait 4 years until Edward is in school.  Health does not come cheap.

The Roof Collapsed, and Other Problems

Ruby is going on a field trip today.  Normally this would be very exciting (and in fact, it is very exciting to her), but the field trip is to the sister school a few towns over, and the reason for the field trip is that the roof collapsed.

Tuesday morning we drove up to the school parking lot to find several large trucks taking up most of the spots.  As we walked through the front doors of the building, we were ushered/herded in the opposite direction of Ruby's classroom, to what is known as "the big room," because, well, it is big.

Upon arrival, we learned that a water pipe had burst directly over Ruby's classroom and flooded it, leaking into the hallway and some other classrooms, so now three to four classes would be camping out, refugee-style, in the big room, until further notice.  I don't know how long "further notice" is, but it seems like a couple of weeks at least.

This is, of course, terrible news.  Anything on a bottom shelf is now ruined.  Books, puzzles, games, and other non-waterproof toys are all gone.  This is upsetting indeed, but far more heartbreaking is the realization that all of the kids' artwork on the walls is probably destroyed.  Possibly their books where they write their names every month and you can see the amazing progress.  Maybe their craft projects and special creations.  Things that can never be replaced.

Now, quite honestly, we are not hurting for artwork in the line-style crayon medium.  We most likely would have eventually tossed most of it anyway.  But to have it taken from us like this, so suddenly, so cruelly, is hard for us to take, and even harder to explain to our four and five year old's who want to know if the elephant they painted last week and left lying on the floor to dry will be okay.

The fact that it comes at a time when many schools and libraries in the state are still struggling to rebuild and restock after the terrible flooding of Hurricane Irene makes it even...weirder?  On the one hand, it makes me grateful that we didn't sustain any real damage in the floods, but on the other it seems bitingly ironic that we now know, in a very small way indeed, exactly how they felt and still feel.

As we've dropped Ruby off at school this week, we've seen them vacuuming up water, tearing out drywall and carpeting, and generally making a huge mess of things in an effort to remove the damage and get to the point where they can start rebuilding.  They're doing a good job and if we're lucky we might be back in business by the end of next week.  Everyone will be fine, and things will be back to normal soon I'm sure.  But for now, we'll be in the big room.

The Benefits of an Opera Voice

Those of you with current or former babies know that they can lie there and just scream for hours on end.  And I mean scream!  How is this possible?  If you tried to personally scream as loud and as long as those babies (like you did at that Justin Bieber concert that one time), you would lose your voice and have a sore throat for days.  This is because you are not using your opera voice.

Babies know about the opera voice.  Babies love the opera voice.  The opera voice is what allows opera singers to, well, basically scream at the top of their lungs for hours on end and not lose their voice.  Now, I must stress right away that opera singers do NOT scream at the top of their lungs.  It just sounds like that much of the time.  But it is not screaming.  It is the opera voice.

You see, we opera singers have a unique challenge, having to sing over an entire orchestra and still be heard.  We do not have microphones and sound systems.  Sometimes we don't even have decent acoustics.  All we have is our voices, and so we go through years of expensive training to basically condition our voices back to their infant-like state of being able to do what we were born being able to do but somehow forgot.

Once trained, we opera singers are able to just relax our bodies and esophagi and let the sound flow freely from our vocal folds, going for hours without getting tired, and also creating such resonance that we can be heard over very large amounts of noise.  This is done for the express purpose of singing operas, but there are many fringe benefits of having an opera voice as well.

Need to get a crowded room's attention?  Can't do that finger in your mouth whistley thing?  Try using your opera voice to get everyone's attention.  I guarantee that they will all hear you and quiet down.

Trying to call to a friend across a noisy bar?  There are too many people between the two of you to get through, and they will never hear you screeching at them, but one blast of their name using the opera voice and  you will have their attention.  And the best part is, everyone else will be too drunk to pay attention to your call, so they will not quiet down and pay attention to you like in the previous example.

The opera voice can also travel great distances.  I have found that, using my opera voice, I can get someone's attention who is standing much farther away from me than I could otherwise.  A city block?  Easy.  Opposite end of a field?  No problem.  6 stories up, hanging out of a window?  I got this.

The last and best use of the opera voice is clearly in the field of child discipline.  I hope that my children do not build up an immunity to the opera voice, but at the moment, the best way to let them know that I mean business, is a resonant and triple-forte "Hey!" sung in their direction.  That will stop whatever mischief they are up to in a hurry.

So even if you are not planning to become an international operatic sensation like me, I would strongly advise you all to go take a few voice lessons and tap into your inner opera voice.  It doesn't matter if you are tone deaf or have perfect pitch.  You don't even need to sing a note.  Just think about what a wonderful place this world would be if everyone was just 20% louder!  Oh.  Ummm.... actually, nevermind.

When the Manager Comes to Your Table

I have a question for you, dear readers.  I want to know who is crazy here.  There are big changes afoot at the pizza place.  We've hired a guy to come in and, well, basically "fix" everything.  Technically he is there for marketing, but he has also firmly established himself in all areas of the restaurant, including the kitchen.

Last evening, he came into the kitchen while we were making food, and he told me to go out and chat up the customers while they were eating.  To ask how their food was, if they had any suggestions or ideas, and to smile a lot and, in my opinion, bug the heck out of them.

I didn't flat out refuse, but I did call another worker over, told him to go talk to customers, and then went in the back to do dishes, avoiding the situation as much as possible.  A few moments later, my co-worker returned and informed us that he had not spoken to the customer because the guy had just started eating his food and was reading a newspaper and didn't look like he wanted to be disturbed.  Exactly.

When I go out to eat, I am quite happy for my waiter or waitress to come over and ask how things are.  That is their job.  However, on those occasions when some other random person comes over to talk to me, I get super annoyed.  The waitress has just come to check on you, you are taking a bite of food, or talking to your friends or date or whatever, and some smiley obnoxious manager comes over and asks how everything is.  I usually say "fine," and then ignore them as hard as I can, hoping they will leave, because it's just uncomfortable.  I have nothing to say to this person, and they are interrupting my meal.  In fact, if I know it is a place where the manager frequently comes over to chat up customers, I will probably avoid it if I can.

I said all of this last night, and I was told that I was in the extreme minority, and that almost everyone loves it when the manager comes over and starts a conversation with them in the middle of their meal, because it shows a personal touch and they feel welcomed, or whatever.  I will admit that I don't know what the general public thinks of this, because it is not something I have ever discussed.

So am I crazy?  What do you think?

Do You:

I really would like to know.  I don't want to go around bothering folks, but if people really do love it when random strangers start quizzing them mid-chew, then by golly I will give the public what it wants!  Let me know.  Thanks!

Why Is John The Baptist So Fat?

I am teaching Sunday School this month.  The way it works at our church is that parents sign up for a one month stint either being a teacher or a helper, and that way we have enough teachers and nobody has to miss church for more than a few weeks a year.  It's a pretty good arrangement, and so January is my month.  I was e-mailed schedules and lesson plans, and two weeks ago (we had New Year's Day off) began my limited engagement as John the Baptist.

I don't know if they did this to me because they knew I had acting and stage training, or if it was just serendipity, but my lesson plan calls for me to dress up as John the Baptist and then, in character, describe my birth, life, and death to the children, with an emphasis on baptism and the baptism of Jesus.  No problem, right?

The way the schedule is set up, we "elders" rotate around the different classes all month, while the "shepherds" stay with one individual class.  My first week was with the 4th and 5th graders, followed yesterday by the 1st through 3rd graders, and culminating with the Pre-K and kindergarteners at the end of the month.  I walked into my first week ready to go, and having no idea anymore what 4th and 5th graders were like.

It turns out that the youth of the day are not at all interested in the life of John the Baptist.  Everything I said was met with boredom at best, and resistance at worst.  If I said something like, "My clothes are made out of camel hair," they would respond with "No they're not, you are quite obviously wearing a brown Obi Wan Kenobi costume robe that you got in college like 15 years ago."  Dang!  Am I that obvious?

Well, we struggled a bit together, but I think by the end I finally got their attention.  They certainly perked up when I said, "Don't any of you want to hear about how I was brutally murdered?"  I also got them with the superheroic qualities of the baptism liturgy.  Swearing to resist the forces of evil, darkness and wickedness in whatever forms they present themselves?  It's like we're all in The Avengers, and Jesus is our Captain America, killed in battle, but three days later thawed out from the ice and back in action with his vibranium shield of faith, great for quenching fiery darts!

Ok, that's a bit of a mixed metaphor, but the point is, they were all paying attention and actually thinking about the words of their baptisms and what they meant, so I counted it as a win.  Yesterday, as they all met in the chapel before Sunday School, I was setting up my room for the 1st through 3rd graders and eavesdropping on the kids as they discussed what they had learned the previous week.  Quite curious to hear what my 4th and 5th graders had to say, I stood against the door and listened closely.

The leader asked what John the Baptist ate in the wilderness, and everyone knew the answer immediately.  Locusts and wild honey!  Good job kids!  And then one of my wonderful little pupils raised her hand and asked "If he was only eating bugs and honey, then why is John the Baptist so fat?"  She then explained to the confused teacher that she had met him the week before, and the teacher tried to tell her something about how God will provide for us, and even if we are only eating bugs and honey, God makes it a bounty for us.  But whatever.  At least they remembered me.

The Third One Was Terrible

I am currently in New York for another audition, and on the train ride here I was deeply engrossed in book three of the Hunger Games trilogy.  Well, mildly engrossed.  Ok, it basically kept my interest, but I have to say, it was kind of disappointing.  I'm not quite done yet, but something about the book just isn't as good as the first two.  With the first two books, putting them down at the end of most chapters was simply an impossibility.  I was so hooked, and it was so exciting, that I literally hungered for more (pardon my pun).  With the third book, "Mockingjay," I just didn't feel that way.  The writing was of the same style, and the characters stayed true to form, but for whatever reason, it wasn't as good as the first two books.  That got me to thinking of a lot of other trilogy enders that disappointed me.  For instance:


His Dark Materials - This is another book trilogy that I could not stop reading.  I read the first two books in about a week, and when I finally got my hands on the third one, I tore through it, only to find that I hated it, and the series was ruined for me.


X-Men: The Last Stand - X-Men emerged onto the movie scene at a time when superhero movies were a joke, and it made them awesome again.  This is the movie you have to thank for the fact that every summer we have 19 superhero movies clogging up the multiplexes.  Then X2 came out, and is hands-down the best superhero movie of all time (sorry The Dark Knight, you are a very close second).  I could watch X2 for days and days and never get bored.  So what happened to the third one?  It truly sucks.  Director Bryan Singer left the production to go film another not so great movie, "Superman Returns."  If only he had stayed on X-Men 3 and let someone else handle ol' Supes, maybe we would have gotten two better films.

Spider-Man 3 - Just re-read the last paragraph about the X-Men, but replace "X-Men" with "Spider-Man" (and take out the stuff about Bryan Singer) and you will have the same story again.  Good first movie, truly great second movie, horrible third movie.  No change of directors to blame on this one though.

The Matrix - When I saw "The Matrix" I was blown away.  Most people were blown away.  It was an awesome movie with ground-breaking visual effects.  The second movie was alright, I guess, and even though it wasn't perfect, it left you with hope that maybe they were going to go somewhere cool with the third one.  Nope.

Bob Newhart's Shows - I used to watch reruns of "The Bob Newhart Show" on Nick at Nite when I was in high school, and it was a great show.  And even before that, I used to watch "Newhart" when it was on regular old TV, and that was great show too.  Remember his third show?  "Bob"?  Yeah, neither does anyone else.


The Mummy - Man, "The Mummy" was a fun movie.  "The Mummy 2" was a fun movie.  Brendan Fraser has made some terrible movies, but these were not them.  I'm not saying they should win any awards, I'm just saying they were some fun adventure films.  And then they made "The Scorpion King."  No Brendan Fraser = no fun.

Star Trek - This is kind of cheating, because all the odd numbered Star Trek movies are bad.  1, 3, 5, you get the idea.  The good ones are 2 (KHAAAAAAAANNNN!), 4 (the one with the whales), and 6 (the one you didn't see that is actually awesome).

There are plenty of other examples (I'm not even going to discuss "Return of the Jedi" here, because I don't want any angry letters, and plus I like the Ewoks), but this is long enough as it is.  Any others I am missing here?  Let me know.  And feel free to tell me about all the 3rds of things that are actually the best, like "Return of the King," "Storm of Swords," and the third TV movie based on "Gilligan's Island," "The Harlem Globetrotters on Gilligan's Island."

Glossary of Terms

It occurs to me that sometimes I use words, names, or phrases that you might not recognize, unless you are related to me or have read every single blog posting I have ever written.  In an effort to be more clear, I have created this glossary of Tenor Dad terms that I can then link to when I use one of them, without having to explain it in writing every time.  I may update this post from time to time, or I may not.  We'll see how this works.  So anyway, here are some quick definitions for you!

Binky - A pacifier.

Bubbas - Bottles of milk, warmed in the microwave for 30 seconds or so.

Daddy Bear - Ruby's favorite stuffed bear.  He likes to drive cars and go to bear parties.

Edward - My son, born in March of 2010.  He is (you do the math) years old.

Jesse Jellyroll - Our cat who likes to scratch all of our stuff.

Mousey Lionheart - Our cat who likes to scratch all of our people.

Nini - My mother-in-law, originally called Nina, but the kids changed it to Nini.

Ruby - My daughter, born in March of 2007, so you can figure out how old she is at the time you are reading this.

Simone - My wonderful wife of many years.

Toy Grammy - What Ruby calls my mother, because of the number of toys at my mother's house.

Uncle Big Dave - My sister's husband

Uncle Tall Dave - My wife's sister's husband

Speech Delay Evaluation Delay

I just spent my morning with an evaluator from the state.  At least I think she was an evaluator.  She didn't really evaluate anything.  She mostly just asked us questions and wrote things down.  So actually, I just spent my morning with an professional informationalist from the state.  We're trying to figure out if Edward has a speech delay.

You may recall that Edward had a dozen ear infections, leading to minor surgery to put tubes in his ears.  This all went very smoothly, and he seems to be doing a lot better in the balance department, and the not-getting-ear-infections department.  The only issue (is it an issue?) is his possible speech delay.

This is a difficult thing for we parents to decipher.  On the one hand, we have his sister Ruby, who at his age was already speaking in sentences, could count to ten, knew all of her shapes and colors, and was writing pulitzer prize winning essays in crayon.  When we compare the two of them, Edward's ability to say "car" and "ball" and "blearghleblat" does not seem very impressive.  But it doesn't seem fair to compare your children, right?  And she is a girl, and every one knows girls develop faster than boys.  He is much better at smashing things than she was at his age, so there is definitely a trade off.

But then on the other hand, we have his cousin, born only a few days earlier, also a boy, and doing everything way earlier.  He walked first, he talked first, he was attacked by a chicken first.  Edward is way behind it would seem.  The only thing to do, really, was to ask the doctor.  And the doctor recommended we get Edward evaluated for a speech delay because he had fewer words than what was in the range of "normal."  Also, and more importantly, it is free.

So that brings us to today, when I thought we were having our evaluation.  But I think we were really having a pre-evaluation.  We are going to have to set up meeting #2 for a full evaluation, and then meeting #3 for deciding how to proceed and if he needs help, etc.  That sounds like a lot of meetings.  Plus I had to sign a ton of stuff, which might seem boring, but it was a good chance to hone and refine my signature.

Regardless, we had a good time this morning constructing a "snapshot" of Edward's development up to this point.  The woman that came was very nice, and Edward got to flirt and show off, so he had fun.  Almost two hours of fun, in fact.  I still don't know if he has an official speech delay though.  I guess he just has an evaluation delay.

We Like to Potty (We Like, We Like to Potty)

Friends!  I bring you tidings of great joy!  For behold, Edward has pooped in the potty!  I wasn't there for it; I was at work, so everything you are about to hear is completely second-hand, but I'm pretty sure I have the right of it.

Well, okay, I was there for the very beginning of it.  Sunday, just two short days ago, I pulled out the potty seat and the potty chair.  Edward had been grabbing his diaper lately, even when it was empty, as if he was aware that something was about to happen down there.  He had also become very interested in the toilet and what sort of thing goes on in that area.  These are two classic signs that it's time to start thinking about potty training, so I thought, what the heck, I'll get the stuff ready for when he's ready.

Then, last night, a mere one day after we pulled out the potty training supplies, a miracle happened.  Edward potty trained himself.  He stood up, grabbed his behind and said "Uh-Oh!"  My wife, thinking that it was now time for a diaper change, told him to go to his changing table, but he instead ran to the bathroom.

He pointed at the bathroom and it made it very clear that this was where he wanted to go.  My wife brought him in, took off his clean diaper, and sat him up on the potty.  He thought that this was great fun, laughing and giggling and having a wonderful time.  Ruby came in to offer him words of encouragement ("No, Edward, you're doing it wrong!") and after a few minutes, everyone was shocked to hear the splash.  TOUCHDOWN!

Edward could not have been more pleased with himself, cackling with pride, and his mother and I could not be more excited for this step on the road to a diaper-free house.  And the best part is, we didn't have to do anything!  And I don't think it was a one time fluke either, as he has already practiced sitting on the potty twice this morning so far.  He is super into it.  Now if we can just get the pee into the potty as well, we'll be all set.  Next up: aiming lessons!

Bowling For Babies

There is a new game at Nini's house now.  It involves a rubber ball and several empty 1 liter bottles.  I believe that it is supposed to be played something like bowling, but, as I discovered the other day, bowling for babies is quite different from bowling for adults.

For one thing, babies do not like to roll the ball.  They prefer throwing or bouncing the ball at the "pins."  This is less effective than rolling, especially for babies with poor aiming skills, but it does have the potential to do more household damage, so you can easily see why this is the preferred method.

After throwing the ball unsuccessfully at the pins several times, babies then move on to the next phase of the game: holding the ball directly over the pins and dropping it.  This also has a surprisingly low success rate among the babies that I observed.  I was astonished to find that, even holding the ball mere inches away from the pins and dropping it directly into them, my baby still managed to repeatedly miss every single pin.

Luckily, things turned around eventually, and the ball did indeed knock over some of the pins.  This was the cause of great delight, producing much giggling and jumping up and down.  I set the pins up again, expecting another ball drop, but this was when things really began to deviate from standard bowling.

Upon realizing that the pins are not fixed objects, the baby proceeded to grab one of the pins in his hand and then, growling like a rabid dinosaur, started bashing down all the other pins with the one he was holding.  "GRAWRGH!  BLARGHRRL!" he said, knocking empty bottles to and fro.  In the middle of all of this came the realization that he was now holding a club in his hand.  A club that could be used for more general bashing.  And so, bottle in hand, the baby went around the room, thumping anything and everything within reach.  In baby bowling, this is referred to as a "strike."

Overall, I would say that baby bowling was a big success, and we look forward to playing it many, many more times at Nini's house, and never, ever any times at our house, because our house is where we keep all of our stuff, and Lord knows we have a hard enough time keeping any of it intact with just a regular baby running around.  I'm not giving him a weapon.

Disclaimer: May Be Fully Or Partially Ridiculous

This is just a note to say that, to those of you who might be new to reading Tenor Dad, it is often very silly.  I have noticed in the comments that sometimes people will respond to something as if they thought I was being very serious, when in fact much of what I write is (or at least is supposed to be) funny.

I will sometimes exaggerate.  If I say that Edward hit me in the face ten million times, I probably mean he actually hit me four or five times, but that sounds boring so just go with me people.  I also will include some things that are not 100% true.  When I write stuff lke "I am going to sell my children to the highest bidder," I am totally kidding!  Ha ha!  Very funny!  See?

And some stuff is just in there for pure silliness.  I recently wrote a post about the hymnals at my Dad's church, and somebody tried to explain to me that the hymns I had taken issue with as being "pop music," were in fact different songs than the popular ones on the radio.  Now look, I know this.  Do you seriously think I do not know that the classic carol "Joy to the World" is not the same song as "Joy to the World" by Three Dog Night?  Of course I know that!  I am just being ridiculous!

So if you are the kind of person that does not enjoy a dose of silliness now and then, I would advise you to go read some boring article about (insert whatever you find boring here - I'm not putting anything specific in because I know someone will be furious about it).  But if you like things that are ridiculous, then welcome to Tenor Dad!

I Am Spock

I grew up on Star Trek, both the original series and everything subsequent, and my favorite character was always that half-human, half-vulcan science officer, Mr. Spock.  It never really occurred to me to wonder why he was my favorite, but I think I have finally figured it out anyway.  I am Spock.  No, I don't have pointy ears, and I don't have a sixties haircut, but I do have a human mother and a vulcan father.  At least I think I do.

My mother is a being of much emotion and very little logic.  She does not like to, you know, think things through.  If she has a feeling about something, she is probably going to go with that feeling, even if it makes no rational sense whatsoever.  This can be a very good quality about her sometimes, and the rest of the times it will drive you absolutely nuts.  I can't tell you how many times I have had this exact conversation with my mother:
Me: "What!?  Why would you do that?!"
Mom: "Well.....(nonsensical explanation)"
Me: "Yes, but (sense and logic)!"
Mom: "Oh, well I guess that's true.  I didn't think of it like that."

On the other hand, we have my father.  A very intelligent man who is extremely logical, he takes every factor into account when making a decision, except for human emotion, which I don't think he entirely understands.  He gets very confused when people are upset with him, because in his mind he has made a very logical and rational choice, and he is always frustrated with other people when they base their decision making process on how they feel.  If something is the right thing to do in every logical way, except for the fact that it will make someone really sad, he will do it anyway, and have no clue why he is surrounded by all of these unreasonably sad people.

And so then there is me. Trapped between two worlds of reason and emotion. I try to balance them both as best as I can, but I know that I often stray too far to one side or the other. Like Spock, I try and use logic to trump emotion as much as possible, but I also realize that sometimes you just have to follow your dreams, even when it makes no earthly sense to do so. I guess, in the end, even though it might have been nice to have two normal, well-adjusted parents, I'm glad I got both perspectives, and I hope that I can keep myself even enough so that my children won't have to write something like this when they are grown. Because they have plenty of other things to write about.

I Joined a Gym

I have been to "the gym" exactly three times in my life.  The first time was when I was in college and my roommates (who always seemed to be going to the gym) asked if I wanted to come along.  I went in, fooled around a little bit, annoyed my roommates to no end, decided it was boring, and that was the end of that.

The second time was about 8 years later, while I was in graduate school.  Again, my gym-hungry classmates were on their way to work out for the billionth time, and they encouraged me to check it out.  I had a great time.  I was wearing jeans, hiking boots, and a superhero t-shirt, and I thoroughly enjoyed treadmill dancing, even though my friends would no longer acknowledge that they knew me.

The third time I went to the gym was this past summer.  Everyone involved in La Rondine at Middlebury was given a free gym pass for the run of the show, and I spent one day returning to my favorite activity, disco treadmill (now with more flailing!).  And thus concludes my gym history.

Now, I have worked out before.  I have gone jogging, biking, rollerblading, and walking.  I went to the on-site weight room a few times when I was at Music Academy.  But I have never seriously "been to the gym" as they say, on a regular basis.

Well, my wife's new job comes with discounted gym memberships, so all of that is about to change.  Maybe.  I went over this morning for the first time, just to check it out.  I got my membership card and dropped Edward off in the childcare room ($8 a day, so I'm not sure how many days I can afford to work out.  Not every day, that's for sure!).  I hung my coat up and went over to the fitness room, but here I was met with a big sign reading "No Outdoor Shoes."  They take things a little more seriously over there I guess.  Here I am, still standing in my jeans and hiking boots, but unable to enter the fitness room.

I figured I would just take my boots off, but reading further down the sign, I also noticed a prohibition regarding socks and bare feet.  So I was out of luck.  Apparently, one is required to wear proper "work-out attire" to even enter the rooms at this place.  I wandered over to the pool, and the spinning room, but you have to sign up in advance to go into those rooms, so again I was left standing in the hallway.

I wanted to get my $8 worth of child care that I had already paid for, so I wandered slowly up and down the halls, reading signs promising a healthier me, and staring at posters of oily, muscly people shouting things like "Never give up!"  I took some pamphlets and signed up for a free personal fitness evaluation, and finally after about 20 minutes I gave up and went back to the nursery.

Edward and I came home reluctantly, he because I took away the train he was playing with, and me because I had just wasted $8 so that I could take several sips from the drinking fountain without holding a child in my arms.  I guess if I am going to go back I should put together a gym bag of some sort, with sneakers and shorts and whatnot.  I don't know though.  I want to be healthy and in shape, but peeking through those windows, looking at all those sweaty people on bikes and weight machines, all I could think was that I'd rather go home and write a blog about this than actually do it.  So I did.  And now I feel great!

Things That Are True

If you film two movie sequels at the same time and release them separately, they will suck.

Hanging With Friends is better than Words With Friends.

If you are the only person that cares about something, that's still one pretty important person.

Flouring both sides of a calzone dough will make it hard to seal.

The only way to become happier is to remind yourself every day of the good things you already have.

People with children have more freedom than people with dogs.

Everyone is special, but only by about .00000001%

Anything with sugar in it tastes better than everything with corn syrup.

In the case of Nix vs. Hedden (1893), the US Supreme Court ruled that even though the tomato was a fruit, it would be classified as a vegetable because it was generally eaten as part of the main course, and not as dessert.

It's A Wonderful Life is a depressing movie in which the bad guy wins and the whole town ends up broke.

Singing is much harder than working in an office.

If you didn't like the Lost finale, you didn't understand the point of the show.

Feelings of worthlessness may sometimes be reduced by doing something worthwhile.

A picture is worth 1000 words, which is why paintings cost more than books.

If you were an ancient Mayan and you were making a calendar, eventually you would probably stop and say "I think we've gone far enough.  Everyone here will be dead by 2012 anyway.  We'll just have some future Mayans extend it later, maybe in the 1800's or something."

What Our Kid Selves Can Teach Our Confused Adult Selves

While I was at my mother's house on New Year's Eve, on one hand celebrating the ending of 2011 and on the other celebrating Christmas with my brother, I was given a gift.  I don't know if she just wanted it out of the way, but while I was eating frozen shrimp and playing board games, my mother gave me my baby book.

I have seen my baby book before.  My mother kept it up all the way through high school, so the last page has the list of my high school graduation presents; a nice bookend to the list of shower presents at the beginning.  But for some reason, I was seeing it through new eyes this weekend.  Maybe it was the sense of new year's reflection in the air, or maybe it was a general restlessness and slight dissatisfaction in my soul, but as I flipped through old report cards, immunizations records, and grade school projects, I started receiving a message from my younger self.

Many of the things I found just made me smile as I noticed how little some things change over the years.  One glowing report card had the lone sour grade for "map skills," which is still pretty true to this day.  Under my dislikes, my mother had written in that at age 8 months, I disliked being alone, going to bed, and finishing eating, which made my wife snort-laugh and comment that nothing had changed much since then.  But then some things started to surprise me.

As I have mentioned before, math was always my thing growing up, and music seemed a natural extension of that.  I was on the math team and took advanced math courses at UVM while I was still in high school.  But to my surprise, on all of my tests and report cards, my verbal scores were higher.  My 1st grade report card shows my math levels on track, and my reading level as advanced.  My verbal SAT score was 40 points higher than my math score (which I remember thinking odd at the time).  My baby book is full to the brim of short stories, cartoons & comics, and poems that I had written, and I suddenly remembered just how much I loved reading and writing.  I mean, I like it now too, but back then it was a passion!

I found summer reading list books provided by the local library, but instead of filling up one book, I had filled up three or four each summer, sometimes reading as many as 100 books in one season, but I think the thing that really got to me was finding my 2nd grade evaluation.  I read the sentence "He is a powerful reader and seems most contented when he's reading." and it hit me.  That's right!  I remember now!  Reading and writing make me really happy!  Blissfully, euphorically happy!  How could I have forgotten this?

I've never truly forgotten, of course.  I still read (although not as much as I would like to) and I started writing this blog, which has become a true source of pleasure for me every day, but it makes me realize that maybe what I should have been doing all along is writing.  And by writing I mean music too.  Books, a comic strip, operas, librettos, children's stories, parody songs, screenplays, educational videos, newspaper articles, you name it!  I want to write them all!  I did math for so many years, maybe I forgot how much I loved to read and write.  But now I remember again.

I don't really do New Year's resolutions, but I do do New Year's goals and state of mind changes, and I want to tell you right here, right now, that this year I am going to spend more time writing.  I am going to start a project, and actually finish it.  Maybe I will try to get something published.  Maybe I will just put stuff on the internet.  But I feel a renewed energy about creating and writing again, and I just wanted to tell my younger self, message received buddy.  I remember now, and I'm on it.