A couple of years ago the family went on our annual beach trip in which we share a house with three other families.  I was informed by the multitude of children that I bear an uncanny resemblance to one of the Wiggles.  My kids being past the Sesame Street age I had no idea what they were talking about, so they tuned into the Wiggles one morning and showed me.  Then they dubbed me "Mr. Wiggles" (please, no sophomoric comments) which has stuck with me through subsequent beach trips.

My self confidence was shot for the week (let’s just say the Wiggles aren’t what I’d call manly men) and that’s not a good thing when you’re at the beach.  Anyway I didn’t see the resemblance then, and I certainly don’t see it today.  In fact I’ve blocked out the whole thing to the point that I can’t even remember which one I’m supposed to look like.

After reading this little piece I might need to reconsider my position.  Those, uh, men are pulling down some serious change.  If the one I look like ever decides to quit or gets hit by a bus I’d have to seriously consider auditioning although it might involve taking serious doses of estrogen.

Final thing: Feel free to vote on which one you think I look like.  Here’s some pictures for comparison…I’m the first one.  You can click on the pictures to see a larger version if you need to.

A while back we (me, Celeste and our brood) were at my Aunt Lynn’s house for her birthday.  While we were there we went through a bunch of old pictures that she’d put together from my Grandmother Lowder’s collection.  One of my projects is to scan all of those photos so that we have digital copies of them all.

Well, I scanned a baby portrait of my dad and one of myself taken when we were each about one (I’m guessing).  Both were black and white so they have a similar tone.  Here they are (click on the picture if you want to see a larger version).  I’m the one on the right:

I’ve always been told that we look a lot alike, but at least in our early years I don’t see it.  Maybe it’s the ears:)

Anyway, it should be a lot of fun going through all these old pictures…of course I better call mom and warn her I have some doosies of her with the old 60’s and 70’s hair!

I have a daughter in the sixth grade who is learning trombone in band class.  Tonight was the first night of full-blown, at-home practice.

Oh Lord, it’s gonna be a long year.

The last few weeks have been full of good dad stories and they are as widely varied as my respective childrens’ personalities.

First there was Michael’s (my oldest) birthday.  He turned 13…an official teenager.  Holy crap, how did we get here?  And how are we going to survive another 10 years of this?  He alternates between an amazing level of maturity and an infuriating level of childishness, seemingly on a minute-by-minute basis.  That means I never know whether to hug him or kick him in the ass.  Oh, well.

Next, there was Erin’s first soccer game of the season.  In the midst of a 10-0 defeat she twisted her knee and had to sit out half the game.  As an ex-soccer and ex-basketball player knee injuries are my worst nightmare, so I was more than a little worried about her.  That was until about an hour after the game when I found her jumping on the trampoline in the back yard.  Of course the pain returned instantly once chores were mentioned, but at least my nerves were spared.

The most entertaining moment came when Celeste took Justin, our youngest, to his appointment with the doctor last week.  It was a general check up that revealed two things: one, that he had the beginnings of a sinus infection that explained the ribbons of snot appearing on his clothes and two, that he had a pencil eraser stuck in his ear.  How long it was there we don’t know, but he reports that he’s hearing much better since the removal of the "obstruction." 

And finally to top it all off I’ve had the pleasure of taking a drawing class at Salem College with Michael the last two Mondays. Michael’s the only non-adult in the class and I was a little concerned that he’d be bored to tears, but I think he’s enjoying it.  If nothing else he has a new audience for his warped sense of humor. 

All I can say is that I’m loving every minute of the classes.  I think it’s the first thing I’ve done with any of the kids where we’re literally peers, and it has given me more great memories than I could have ever hoped for.  I’ve coached all three kids in various sports, but that’s just another patriarchal role.  The talking that Michael and I do during the drive to and from class is worth more than the tuition we paid, and working with him, comparing our drawings and sharing our frustrations is simply an amazing experience that every father should be blessed to have.  The class is scheduled for four more weeks and I’m already dreading their end, and trying to figure out what’s next.

I wish I could take credit for signing us up for the drawing class, but it was Celeste’s idea.  She doesn’t know it but when she signed us up she gave me a very early Father’s Day gift.  Now I hope I can find something equally amazing to do with Erin and Justin.

The adventures have only begun.

Celeste, my lovely wife, has always been a bargain shopper, but lately she’s taken it to another level.  Just today the checkout person at Harris-Teeter had to get the manager to override the register because Celeste had saved too much money on her purchases.  Using a combination of coupons and in-store sales she saved $94 on $224 worth of food, or something like 42%.

I’ll never forget the first time we went grocery shopping after we were married.  To my horror Celeste came armed with a plastic box of alphabetized coupons and a calculator, which she unabashedly wielded as she sent me scampering for one item after another.  Hell, she even had the aisles memorized so she’d bark out an order like "Bar-B-Q Sauce, Sam’s Special, Aisle 5, Right Side…the label is blue."  I took that last item to mean that in the time it took us to drive to the store I’d somehow forgotten to read.

After what seemed like hours of shopping, which I’m sure had nothing to do with my desultory attitude, we finally made it to the cashier and promptly saved something like $25 on a $120 purchase.  That’s a lot of money, especially when you’re young and broke.

Although I’m still the designated idiot shopper (I’m entrusted with bread, milk and eggs) I no longer balk at Celeste’s couponing.  In fact I’ve found that I can even contribute to the cause since I get to help with the math (no more calculator), can actually read labels to discern those items that cost less from others and, when needed, promote the benefits of generic-brand cereal to our discerning children. 

By the way, don’t try to fool a 10-year old into thinking that Tasteeos are in fact Cheerios by transfering a bag of Tasteeos to an old Cheerios box.  They catch it every time.

As you can tell Celeste has had a positive influence on me, and I think I’m beginning to actually have one on her too.  Just last night she told one of the kids to throw away a plastic dish from a frozen meal.  I believe this is a first in our marriage and it gives me hope that we may no longer have to store enough plastic dishes to feed all of Fort Bragg.

As I mentioned in an earlier post we’re on the Outer Banks for a family vacation.  We’re here with three other families so we have seven adults and ten kids in the house, which means there isn’t a lot of time without tremendous amounts of noise and activity.  Not that it’s bad, it just is.

So today brought a pleasant surprise when I found myself in the surf (big surf for NC with waves at 6 or 7 feet sometimes) with my oldest son, Michael.  For some of the afternoon he and I had company out there, but for a while it was just the two of us.

Before our trip to the beach this week I’d only seen Michael for about a day over the last month due to my trips and his trips combined, and to say I missed him would be an understatement.  Today we were able to dodge waves, do a little body surfing and just talk.  Michael has a lot to say, just like his dad, and today it was great to be able to listen without any distractions.

I have a feeling that such opportunities might be numbered in the near future (he turns 13 next month), but I’ll take ’em while I can get ’em.

We’re on the outer banks (Corolla, NC) for a little R&R and something strange happened: I asked my wife to dance last night, not the other way around.

Must be the combination of ocean air, enough beers that I lost count, Celeste’s very fetching outfit and a good 80’s band from Greensboro, NC.  Anyway I’m sure Celeste wishes she had it on video so everyone who knows us would believe it.