Olympic fever has invaded our home and taken over the TV. For the next two weeks, the sound of Bob Costas’ voice will become the background noise of our everyday routine as he guides us through the games. Michael Phelps has already broken the record for most career Olympic golds, and has a strong chance to break the record for most gold medals won in a single Olympic games. It’s the perfect time of year for a man to learn that his X chromosomes won the gold…the Y’s didn’t even qualify. Yes, sports fans, that Thumb Tack I mentioned previously is actually a Tater tot.
It seems that I am destined to be surrounded by girls. Even both of the dogs are female. The only other male in the house is a blue beta fish (and that dude’s scared of his own reflection). From the beginning, the girls were convinced that it was going to be a Tatum. Even those we have told haven’t been very surprised. Guess my track record speaks for itself. Four attempts, four girls. My Y-team needs a new trainer before the next games come to town.
In the past, I would have been arguing the case that ultrasound pictures are too fuzzy to be entirely sure about the determination of the baby’s gender. I would be holding out that maybe the angle was all wrong and the ultrasound tech just didn’t see the obvious manhood staring her in the face while taking a snap shot of my boy’s nether-regions. With Tatum, though, I’m convinced. This one’s a girl. No more holding out for the next ultrasound. No regrets, either. Tatum Elizabeth is going to be the latest addition to my estrogen enriched family, and I love my latest girl just like I love all my girls. Besides…I was wondering who Disney was going to be replacing Hannah Montana with. Now I’ll be sure to know (if Tatum’s anything like her sisters).
The real question now is blond or brunette. I’m betting on brunette…however, you may wish to bet against me. I’ve bet boy four times and lost…and once upon a time I was a toe-head, just like my three Lynns. Guess we’ll find out sometime around Christmas. For now, the new category previously named Thumb Tack is being changed to Tater Tot (in honor of Tatum’s gold medal swim) and this site may find a new home soon (our 3 lynns isn’t going to work anymore…I’m leaning towards Lynns and Tots).
There are moments in your life when you discover just how much of a man you really are. There’s the memorable camp trip where you were finally able to get the camp fire going without using half a bottle of lighter fluid. There’s the fishing or hunting expedition where you discovered how much silence and stench is required for true male bonding. And you can never forget that first ball game you enjoyed without getting bored…even though it was a pitcher’s duel and the only hit of the game came in the 8th inning. Even more revealing than any of these are those moments when some strange critter has found it’s way into your home without invitation and it is up to you to get said critter out of your home so that your wife and kids can sleep peacefully once again without the fear that the creepy crawly will somehow find it’s way into their bed.
The first ever creepy crawly (or in this case, creepy flyer) incident that I can remember from my childhood involved a bat that had somehow found it’s way into my uncle’s house while we were visiting one summer. It took my father and uncle a few minutes to take care of that critter (this taking care of involved a game of tennis in which the bat was the ball). After that, I remember numerous mice and a few squirrels that had invaded our home. The remedy for both of these was the use of traps. In both cases, peanut butter was the perfect bate (though cheese wizz was an accepted second for the mice). These home invasions took place in a climate that allowed for a little more variety in the fauna (and a lot more mice). Out here in the desert, the home invader most commonly encountered is of the reptilian variety: the gecko. Which brings me to one of those man moments.
Day 1 July 13th:
After a long day at church, the family finally got some time to relax. Katy and I were settling in to watch some episodes of Angel that we had DVR’d when she noticed something behind the fake tree in the corner. Being the man of the house, it was my job to investigate, which I did only to discover the largest gecko I’d ever seen this side of the silver screen. Quickly discovering that picking this thing up with my bare hands wasn’t going to be an option (I know…one strike against my man-card) I got a mixing bowl and some tongs in order to catch the thing so that I could take it outside and let it go. And that’s exactly what I tried to do, only the gecko wasn’t going to participate. Once I got close with the bowl and before I could attempt to make a grab with the tongs, he squirmed under the couch and disappeared. We flipped it over, moved it, bounced around on it, but to no avail. The gecko wasn’t coming out to play.
Day 2, July 14th:
Around 10 am the next morning, the gecko finally made his way out from under the couch. Irelynn came running into my room and let me know that the “lizzud” was out. I grabbed my weapons (bowl & tongs) and headed out to do war with the slightly more lethargic gecko (seems cold blooded types need a bit more heat than our air conditioned home). Lethargic or not, the gecko gave me the slip once again, after I cornered him three times. That third time, it almost looked like he was about to pop up on his hind legs and say something like, “Look, guv’nor, you gots me all wrong, I can help you save a few pennies on your car insurance.” Of course, that didn’t happen, and he finally ended up under the couch once again.
Day 3, July 15th:
Maddy’s birthday, and lucky for her, the gecko did not make a memorable appearance. In fact, we began to think the cold was getting to him…that, or an unfortunate experience with a spring in the couch when one of the girls threw themselves on it sometime during the day. We even contemplated the possibility that Scrappy, our Mini Schnauzer and resident mouser (according to the breed description) somehow caught it and had a lively breakfast. Whatever the case, Day 3 was uneventful, although the girls did begin to pray for the reptile and even gave it a name (Gary the gecko).
Day 4, July 16th:
Throughout most of the day, we began to consider the fact that Gary had somehow met an unhappy end. Either the cold became too much for him, or one of the springs did catch him, or Scrappy enjoyed the lively meal. I was dreading the possibility of having to dig out the corpse from the couch. Irelynn, on the other hand, remained optimistic, and was even begging me to let her build a house for the gecko complete with grass, rocks, and soft fluffy bed, and some grasshoppers.
While performing some general clean up, Daireth found Gary hidden underneath a blanket. Grabbing my tools of war once more, I entered the fray with the nearly listless gecko. Armed with tongs and mixing bowl, I proved too much for the unfortunate lizard, and was able to finally get him out of the house. While he remained too agile to be captured with the tongs, I managed to play a little game of hockey using the open patio door as my goal.
I was able to walk away from the gecko adventure with my man-card intact. Next time I’ll try traps, though I have the feeling peanut butter won’t really work too well. And if I let Irelynn have her way, the next gecko will become a family pet. I hope they like grasshoppers.
