Base Instincts

This blog is a way for me to keep family and friends posted on the various happenings (both monumental and mundane) in our little corner of the world here in Terre Haute. Mostly, it's a way for me to find the lighter -- or at least less stressful -- side of our daily ritual of raising two foster kids, David (26 months) and Trinity (14 months), keeping a dog (Peanut) and a cat (Fast Eddie) from killing each other and us, and trying to be productive scholars as well as good parents, friends, and spouses. Some days it feels impossible. But rather than complaining quietly though bitterly into my coffee I've decided to air it out here.

For example, I might relate something like this, which I call, "Trinity's Skindition." Trinity was born with bad eczema. If we don't keep her covered in some sort of greasy substance we spend the night trying to coax her -- itching wildly -- back to sleep. Hell, we do that sometimes even when she's been slathered properly. Anyhow, trying to grease her up has proven to be something of a challenge since she learned to crawl, then walk, then run. I want you to imagine trying to get a nice, even coat of wax on a moving vehicle (one that thinks it's HILARIOUS). And, of course, once you get her greased, you have to pick her up (no easy task there) and get her into her pajamas while she (still giggling) does some strange 1-year old version of the "Maniac" dance from "Flashdance" -- it's sort of like watching someone ride a very recalcitrant bicycle while lying on their back. I've been kicked in the tender parts more times than I care to mention (which is why I've chosen to include the video below). Once in pajamas it's time for gobs of hair gel because the eczema affects the scalp as well. The hair gel (Johnson's Baby Oil Gel with Aloe) permanently stains any bit of clothing with which it comes into contact, so you have to make sure to change clothes before the whole process has begun or you are doomed to being sorely disappointed come laundry time. And I do this every night. Sometimes it involves simple petroleum-based products; other times it requires hydrocortizone creams; sometimes it even requires antibiotics. And it never ends. I'm trying to find the bright side of it all. Perhaps it's getting the chance to work on my footwork and speed skills like a prize fighter training by chasing a chicken. Or maybe it's that I've lost nearly 20 pounds since this whole affair began? Or maybe it's just the giggling and the impish "isn't this fun!?" looks from the most inaccessible corner of the room. Any better suggestions?

Additionally, I'll use this space as a way to share fun, interesting, provocative, maddening, etc bits of cultural flotsam and jetsam with you. So. let's begin with something fun: Usually I can't stand to watch men get hit in the groin by anything. It's easy, base humor. Plus, it hurts like hell (see above). But this Rolling Rock commercial takes that mundane and sloppy form of comedy and turns it in to a riotous celebration. Forget the ending with the two bozos in the stands and the phallic bottle and baseballs. The real "climax" appears at "Stripey, NO!" Enjoy.



Next, because our kids are still wards of the state for the moment, we are not allowed to post pictures of them on the Internet. So for the time being, I will provide audio clips of them. You should be able to access them from the MP3 player at the bottom of the page. We'll see if I can make it work.

And with that I'll let Trin have the final word this week...