Waterworld

I came home from my first day back to work and was saddened to find that Peter had melted into a blubbering puddle of tears and misery. Hmmm, looks like happy hour will be delayed again.

After twenty minutes of snot-filled hysteria, I finally got to the heart of the panic attack. Somehow, Peter Klutz-owski had managed to delete his precious Minecraft World, which he has been arduously building up for the last three months.

I have saved Peter's world enough times to warrant a trophy or a medal or at least a colorful certificate. So far, though, I've gotten squat, so I was a bit reluctant to don the cape yet again. Until he asked me for help. 

I made sure that Angie wasn't looking and then I snuggled up to Google for a few hours. For any dads out there facing a similar crisis, the anticlimactic solution is... delete the app and restore it from iCloud. My advice, though, is to make it seem way, way more complicated than that when you save your son from drowning in his own tears.

My Goodness, My Guinness

This was David's 'busted' look as I walked into the kitchen this morning and caught him downing what I thought was the last sip of Angie's coke. As I started to yell at him, though, he ran over to the sink and spat everything out. David loves Coke, so I was still scratching my head on that one when Angie popped her Face out of a Book.

'Did he just drink that? Yuck-o! That's my Guinness glass from last night!'

See, Angie was asked to do a special Pub quiz last night for a company celebrating their Christmas party. On the way home, Angie apparently ordered a Guinness to go and never got around to finishing the last drop. That would never happen to me. 

Something tells me that this was not the first time that David has swiped the last swig of Mama's Coke. After chugging lukewarm, day-old Guinness backwash, though, it might actually be the last time.

That's it!

Peter has a presentation at school tomorrow, unless you ask him. Then Freak-out Boy would tell you that he has a REALLY MAJORLY HUGE PANICK-WORTHY LIFE-CHANGING event that's apparently is going down sometime tomorrow before lunch.

After dinner, Peter forced all family members to form a half-circle and jumped on an imaginary stage to wow the crowd. He had a bowl filled with water, an empty tea-light, and two gummy bears.

The presentation was actually an experiment to prove that air is not nothing. I refrained from making wise cracks that involved my wife or blondes, but mainly because Peter had started hyperventilating.

'Peter, calm down. What's the problem?'

'I,...I...ca...ca....can't remember how it goes!'

The experiment was one that Angie had done for her class and had shown him a few weeks ago. He had thought it was so cool that he would use that for his scientific debut.

'No problem, buddy! Mama showed that to you a few weeks ago; I'm sure she can show you how it goes.'

I turned to Angie. Blank look. Crickets.

Angie does an experiment for her class every week, so it took a few seconds for her to realize exactly which experiment Peter was expecting to save the day.

'Right! Hold on, I'll go google it...'

Peter started pacing the living room as David and Tom made farting noises from their front-row seats. It was getting late, so I thought I would add my words of wisdom.

'Peter, it's getting late. If it doesn't work out, you can always go with the baking soda-vinegar volcano...'

'No, Papa. I have to...'

It was at that point that Angie stood up from the computer and shouted.

'That's it!'

Angie then stormed off down the hallway and Peter and I both assumed that Mama had blown a gasket and was fed up with dealing with things like her children's emotions.

Peter full-on lost it. It was hard to even scoop him up to comfort him because he was more blubbery than one of those 'Water Snake Wigglies'.

'Mama said "that's it" and now "that's it". I don't have anything for tomorrow! Nothing!'

'Don't forget the volcano.'

'Papa! That's not funny. You know that I need to...'

It was at that point that Angie came back from the kitchen with a glass.

'Um, Steve...why is Peter crying?'

After a few confusing minutes, we finally understood each other. This never happens.

Angie's 'That's it!' followed by her abrupt storming down the hallway actually translated to 'That's it! That's the lesson plan explaining what we need for this experiment. And now, instead of sharing this tid-bit with my hyper-nervous first-born, I'm going to walk off to the kitchen to get the needed supplies very quickly without explaining my outburst to anyone.'

Peter then moved on to show us how an upside-down glass could submerge the empty tea-light with the two gummy bears inside for the ride to the bottom of the bowl without ruining the treats.

'Ta-da!'

I turned to Angie.

'That's it?'

'Hey! Better than a volcano.'

Cat Scratch Fever

If you ever find yourself on the way home from a long day at work and are confronted by a meowing cat, shivering in the rain and begging you to scoop him up and take him to safety, don't. Just don't.

I was on my way back from the garage when Luke ran up to me and purred to me rather convincingly. It was pouring and I was racing home to get out of the rain, so I scooped him up and ran to the side gate. For some reason, though, this was locked and I don't have a key to the side gate.

Me, being brighter than the sun and Angie combined, decided to carry our cat around the garden to the main entrance. Everything was fine and dandy until we reached the Hauptstraße.

For you foreigners, Hauptstraße means 'Main Street'. It's also called the 'Fußgängerzone', which translates to the 'Foot-goers zone'. The translation means Jack, though - the real point is that cats apparently do not like that street.

I was cradling our cold and shivering feline as we approached the rather busy 'Hauptstraße'. As we turned the corner, it became painfully obvious that 'kitty no like...'. You can pretty much end that sentence with anything.

Kitty no like people.

Kitty no like noise.

Kitty no like master's face.

So yeah, if you ever find yourself on the way home from a long day at work and are confronted by a meowing cat, shivering in the rain and begging you to scoop him up and take him to safety, don't. Just don't.

Forty Shades of Gray

For the past several months, I have been secretly creating Angie's surprise birthday book. I'm pleased to write that I was not caught and that yes, it surprised her. Deeply.

When Angie and I were dating, she wanted to hang up something and asked me to drill a hole in the wall. I was on my way to Munich for business, though, and promised her that I would do it when I got back. Angie and Handan then found my tools and decided to take drilling into their own hands. What they didn't realize at first was that they were trying to use a metal drill on drywall. Sadly, they didn't realize this point after the second or third attempt, but I'm glad that they finally stopped drilling bullet holes into our wall. Angie tried covering up the crime scene by gluing postcards over them. This worked, until I came back home. Fail.

Angie and I were - surprise, surprise - incredibly late to David's 1st grade welcome ceremony. Angie was frantically looking for her shoes and I was dashing about just trying to stay out of her path. Angie eventually found her shoes under the dining table, but when she bent down to get them, she put her hand on the chair and noticed it was sticky. She then ran to the kitchen and got a wet rag and began cleaning all of the dining room chairs. I walked in as she was just finishing. She responded to my 'are you freakin' kidding me?' look with a 'what was I doing again?' look. She didn't answer my question, but I replied to hers.

It's a look I've only ever seen on Angie. I noticed a trend that it only happens when she is frowning and grumpy. So yeah, twice daily. 

After one of Angie's more crispy attempts at cooking, I actually identified the culprit - it was Angie's burning desire to read what people are doing on a minute to minute basis.

What can I say? Angie likes nerdy guys with big imaginations.

I was at work in the middle of a meeting when Angie placed her emergency call from the car. She was on her way to Handan's and had managed to get herself lost. She then freaked out and started screaming at me to identify her position and tell her how to get to Handan's. I couldn't of course, and after three hours, she turned the car around and fumed her way home. Thanks for calling!

The year was 2001. Angie and I had just moved to Virginia so that I could finish my degree. We went to a pub and met some new people. Cool, great, lovely. One of the women asked about the funny looking cucumber, which was a zucchini. Angie then explained to everyone 'I can tell the difference between a cucumber and a zucchini - even in the dark'. Enough said.

Most people at least try looking for something before asking others to help them find it. In so many ways, Angie is not like most people.

Before Angie figured out what not to do on iTunes, she tried downloading a Michael Jackson song. It took more than half a microsecond so Angie began frantically clicking all over the place. She also clicked away all those silly pop-ups asking her if she was really, really, really sure that she wanted to buy a song that she had already purchased. A month later, I got the bill and realized that Angie had ordered at least three versions of every song Michael Jackson has ever made, including an hour-long documentary and an interview with Michael Jackson's agent.

The first time I made Angie a Ramen noodle soup, she almost refused to eat it. I had broken the noodles into tiny pieces. Too tiny, apparently. Angie's mental rule on noodle-breaking is four times, in case anyone has a burning desire to cook soup for my wife. Good luck with that.

This didn't really happen.

This actually does happen. She only thinks she's green.

This also actually happened. I was on my laptop one night and decided to check Facebook. I wondered why a comment from Angie had warranted over seventy comments, so I clicked on it and came to the uninformed realization that 'We're getting a cat!'

We didn't always have a list. In the beginning, Angie would just get to the end of her school break and start freaking out. Big time. I analyzed this explosive behavior and came to realize a pattern. She always had a mental list of things to do and she never accomplished any of them. I then asked her to actually write them down. It didn't change much, but I at least know now why I am being screamed at.

I feel that Angie is making progress. It used to be that we would have baskets full of washed clothes, but she never had time to fold anything. Now we have baskets full of clothes that are folded. It doesn't change the fact that our closets are all empty, but still, we know where to find our clothes.

In David and Tom's room, there are two closets. My brain tells me that one should belong to David and the other one to Tom. Angie's brain tells her to use one to store all of the socks, underwear and t-shirts in one and pants and sweaters in the other. It also explains why my brain stopped dating Angie's brain a long time ago.

I thought about making a reference to how dogs learn tricks, but in the end, I felt the picture explained things well enough to let sleeping dogs lie.

I hate having my coffee filled to the brim. Angie knows this.

Angie freaks out when she finds toys in one box that belong in another box. And don't even get me started on kids that don't put all of the puzzle pieces back in the box.

Instead of taking the trash out, Angie's preferred method of dealing with this problem is a technique I like to call 'squish and jam'.

Angie has never made ice. Don't ask me why, it's one of the many unanswered mysteries in my life.

Angie doesn't believe in timing anything. Our kids will undoubtedly grow up not liking spaghetti that isn't crunchy or mushy.

Maybe it's a 'me' thing, but I like getting a hot shower and having the room steam up. When Angie strolls in to pluck her eyebrows and leaves the door wide open, it annoys me. My comfty steam is replaced with a draft of cold air. But Angie's eyebrows look great!

There are many, many, MANY things that I don't know about women. One of them is the difference is between a dress and a skirt.

We play poker at the house at least once or twice a month. When Tom was still waking up four or five times nightly, Angie would disappear to take care of him. After an hour or so, we would finally realize that Angie would not be making it back to the table.

Just trust me - it's amazing how high Angie can stack dishes.

I thought Angie was completely whacko when she told me that she sneezes whenever she looks directly at the sun. She was so adamant about it, though, that I actually researched and confirmed that this is a known condition. I still haven't ruled out that she's border-line certifiable, but the sun sneezes are at least medically documented and explained. Yeah, whatever. Freak!

Normally, we drink instant coffee. This involves boiling the water, getting a cup, putting the instant coffee in the cup, pouring the water, adding sugar, adding milk, getting a spoon, stirring, and giving the coffee to the hairy beast you've married. Angie rarely makes it past the first step.

If someone gives me a compliment on a pair of cheap shoes that I bought, I would always lie my ass off and convince them that they are handmade Italian leather. Angie goes to the other extreme.

I do this, too, but it's my blog.

Angie decided to paint the bathroom shortly before a business trip. I told Angie I would help when I was back. Angie can be somewhat of an independent free spirit, something I didn't realize until I came back home.

Angie openly admits to this lazy habit. Ask her. 

Again, just ask her.

Angie does not talk about the horrible childhood event that led to her lifelong hatred of feet. To be honest, though, I haven't asked.

It started with a mild reference to her boobs when she was still breastfeeding and has lead to an established rule. Angie is the one to hit publish on all of my blogs. This does mean that I have to go through several re-write cycles before I get the final signoff, but it's probably one of many reasons why we are still married. The uncensored versions are freakin' hilarious, though.

I snore. So does Angie, but not really relevant. One night, David had a nightmare and climbed into bed with us. I was not yet asleep and heard David snoring. Out of the blue, Angie poked me in the ribs. Apparently, she thought I was snoring and her method for dealing with this has been to poke me awake so that she could go back to sleep before I started snoring again. Ha-ha, busted!

If you want to brag about your tan in German, you say 'Ich bin braun'. In English, you don't.

Nice try. Crappy results.

Whenever I do something stupid, Angie doesn't just giggle. No, she goes nuclear with her gut-grabbing and finger pointing. Yeah, funny. 

This one is true. I wouldn't be the man I am today without Angie. I wouldn't be a husband and I wouldn't be the father to my children. I couldn't imagine existing without these two roles and trust me, I have a huge imagination. Just ask Angie.

April Showers

I thought it would be hard to trick Peter again this year. See, having a birthday on April Fool's Day has made him very, hmmm... let's call it 'cautious' on his BIG DAY. Okay, bullshit - he was twitchier than Daffy Duck jacked up on PCP. Still, we managed to make him cry. Twice. Booyakasha!

For a change, I had nothing to do with either meltdown. Angie was responsible for the first, when she started breaking the news to Peter last night that things have been hectic lately and we simply hadn't had a chance to buy him any gifts. We tried to reassure him that other people might be stopping by with gifts and encouraged him not to give up hope. His best friend Arman was spending the night, who glared at Angie for a second before frantically searching for the gift that he had brought for Peter. I assured him it was tucked away safely and we returned to watching Peter's slow-boiling freak-out. It was fascinating.

If I had tried that trick, I am absolutely sure that Peter would have kicked me in the shin and laughed at me. The element of surprise was that Mama was the one lying to her first-born. It's a well-known and documented fact that Mama can be scatter-brained at times, which only added credibility to her deceptive lie.

Peter hunched his shoulders and moped his way to his room, where he began bawling like a kid with a really mean mother. The problem is that Angie is only ever really mean to me and decided to throw in the towel at that point. Had it been me, I would have tossed crushed boy a box of Kleenex and wished him pleasant dreams.

Peter didn't exactly laugh, but he did stop crying. Arman stood silently by Peter's side with a glaring look of utter disbelief. I'm just guessing, but I don't think his family kicks pure emotions around just for fun. Welcome to the Zoo, kid.

The boys finally went to sleep and Angie and I went to work planning today's snickery deeds. Our friend and co-conspirator Nicole was spending the night with us. Wine and giggling pretty much sums up our planning session.

Breakfast came early, but Peter's buffet of presents put his fears to rest and assured Arman that Angie is not his generation's Mommy Dearest. As Peter was unwrapping the last of his gifts, we 'noticed' an email that came in from the Mayor of Heidelberg.

It had the city government logo and an official looking signature, so Peter became interested in the content. We read on to find out that the schools in our area were becoming overcrowded, prompting government officials to announce a plan to bus children to a nearby village. The mail further explained that the plan would only affect children with a birthday between the 31st of March and the 30th of April.

'Shit'.

I normally do not allow Peter to curse without eating a bar of soap, but his slip was genuine and Karma scares me.

A few seconds later, Peter and Arman came to the realization that Arman's birthday is not until the end of May.

'OH SHIT!'

Okay, now I was torn. Potty mouth kid would normally get a shot of liquid soap at this point, but I was having so much fun watching the impending emotional smack-down that I ignored social etiquette.

The mail went on to explain that the only opportunity for a child to object and request an official exception was on the child's birthday, which had to be done in person at the city hall.

We had full plans to carry this out for most of the morning and quite possibly a good portion of the afternoon. When Peter retreated to a dusty corner and curled up into a ball of quivering snot, Nicole sent the second mail announcing 'April Fools!'

I'm no genius - just ask my wife - but I don't think Arman will be voluntarily spending the night again anytime soon. I also don't think that Peter will talk to us on his birthday next year. I'm already WAY ahead of him, though. I'm totally focusing on pranks that don't involve him being suckered by people he trusts. Stay tuned.

Merry Christmas!

Or would you rather be a snake?

I went to pick up David today. Yuki, one of his friends, promptly informed me that David was in the 'nap room'. The nap room is normally reserved for the younger kids, so I was a tad bit curious as to why David would be sleeping there. When I asked Yuki, his only response was that David had made 'trouble'.

I went downstairs and asked one of the teachers where David was.

'He's sleeping.'

'Please wake him up.'

Sleepy Dave came out looking guiltier than our cat with a mouthful of toilet paper.

'David, what did you do?'

'Nothing.'

Okay, well - glad that was settled. What a load off of my mind. I can be quite cynical sometimes, though, so I thought that David and I would pop by his teacher's room to clear the air and say goodbye.

'Five times! I told him FIVE times to stop, but did he listen?'

The busted look on David's face answered the rhetorical question and I couldn't do anything other than apologize and assure her that there would not be an encore.

When we got home, I forced David to explain to me what exactly he had done. Instead, he plopped down on the floor and gleefully showed me.

In addition to Peter's birth, I have been witness to many, many strange things, but most of them didn't have the added value of making me laugh. As I watched David slither around on the floor, I really had to fight the urge to drop to the ground and get my wiggle on.

He explained that he had turned into a 'super snake monster' and that he couldn't possibly hear his teacher because snakes don't have ears. He also claimed that his friends were laughing too loudly. I reminded David that his teacher has quite a powerful voice, but then he reminded me that his friends can laugh really loudly. Damn, he's good!

I then explained to Snake-boy that there would be no TV, no games, and no dessert for him. The new reality apparently didn't sink in, because his next question was 'Can I play Angry Birds?'.

As if on cue, Angie came home and demanded a re-explanation. Talk about your angry birds.

Micro Mama

Seconds before this lovely image, a microphone was shoved into Angie's hand, preceded by a curious question from Alex, one of her colleagues.

'Here ya go - you're opening the ceremony, right?'

'Uhh, no.'

'Yeah, funny - here's the mic.'

Before I dwell on emails from colleagues that Angie should have read weeks prior that explained silly little organizational details like that she was expected to open the school's Christmas church service, allow me to flash back to our simple breakfast.

'I'd like an egg.'

'I'd like a Mai Tai.'

'Not funny, Steve - we've been practicing this play for weeks and I'm nervous.'

'I see that, which is why I'm thinking a Mai Tai would help much more than an egg - just saying.'

I'll let your imagination figure out who won that logic round.

As Angie was leaving for the church play, I reminded her to switch off her phone.

'Right! Thanks! How do I do that again?'

'Well, here - give it to me. You just need to flip the switch here on the...oh, never mind - it's already on silent.'

'It is?'

With that innocent question, a sudden wave of realization came crashing down on me. I had honestly wondered why Angie had been ignoring my calls since OCTOBER!!!??? That's right, I bought my lovely wife the iPhone for her birthday and she's had the damn thing on silent since then. Her big 'I'm just trying to help' comment was:

'Oh, I wondered why I had so many more missed calls than with my old phone.'

Doesn't matter - at that point, my number one goal was getting valley girl out of the house. I succeeded and when I came home from work, Angie gave me an encore rendering of her impromptu speech:

'Uh, Hello.......Welcome students and...uh.......Welcome parents...and...Welcome teachers....yeah, uh....I hope you enjoy the service.....Thank you!'

Something tells me that she might not be asked to open the ceremony next year.