Well the day has finally arrived that our boy has used the potty for something other than peeing….yikes!  

We could not be prouder of our little stinker.

Cool Quote: “It looks like chocolate, but I can’t eat it!”

Resist. Multiply. Use some wipes!

So today Bridget and I decided it would be fun to take Jacob to see his first movie. There was a limited release of a “Thomas the Train” movie that we both thought would be perfect. I bought the tickets online and we headed out to the theater in beautiful Cedar Grove, New Jersey. Jacob was excited and we both were pumped to see his reaction when the movie started playing on the big screen. We purchased popcorn and we sat down in the dark arena. Then there was trouble…

Apparently, the theater, a less than updated cinema, had a power outage the morning of the showing. The movie projector was fried and countless families sat in the theater waiting, and waiting for a movie that was never starting. Luckily, Jacob is friendly and he befriended another little boy who was growing quite restless, as well.

Long story short, after 50 plus minutes of waiting and several attempts on my  part and Bridget’s to get the theater to start the film or at least admit it was not going to happen - we finally left. We got our money back and headed to Friendly’s for lunch.

Jacob said he loved the movie. We are thankful he does not really understand what he was missing. I think he thought it was all about just playing and eating popcorn in the dark.

So I guess he had a fun day despite my disappointment. His first movie will have to wait….

Here are some pictures from the day.

Jacob sitting in his movie chair.

Waiting to eat his Friendly’s meal.

Eating his ice cream cone treat.

Making a mess of it. Priceless.

A friend of mine recently went out and got really drunk. No problem with that, right?

WRONG!

He and his buddies decided to get matching bicep tattoos that read…..well see below.

Luckily, he has the guns to pull this off. Next year when he is teaching physical education or coaching wrestling - I hope a student tries his patience - so he can show off this beauty.

Resist. Multiply. I Should’ve Killed You Yesterday.

Today I went back to my former school - one in which I spent two years before Jacob was born and I began my  journey into parenting as a stay-at-home papa. I had not visited this whole entire school year for any number of reasons. The number one reason probably was that I was not going to go back to the school. Instead I was starting fresh in my former former school (yes, I know I wrote that twice). So I guess you could say I was a little bit over being around elementary school teachers.

At any rate, I decided last week that there were a few people who I wanted to visit with Jacob. I sent an email and made my plans to venture in and basically say “goodbye” to those that I valued and valued me. Most people there I had lost touch with - probably because I was a guy in a school with almost 100 percent women, and probably because being a stay-at-home dad is not really the most popular decision a guy makes. Whatever the reasons, I was out of touch and out of time (I can see Hall and Oates getting their lawyers ready as I write that last line - YIKES).

So I made my decision to return to the school that I was not really going to return to in September. See you in whenever….

Of course, two days before I made my trek back, a hard knot started to form in my forehead, above my eye brow with no place to be hidden, as a result. I looked in the mirror to see what was brewing and sure enough it was an enormous, hideous, disgusting ZIT! Oh crap, I thought. Just what I need on my head before I go and see all these people. Thanks. Thanks for nothing.

What I did next, I know I should not have done, but I had to do it. You know how it is. It is not like you are free from guilt here, either. You’ve all played around with the ZIT as it begins to form. You’ve all done a little digging, a little squeezing, and a little pinching. Don’t try to deny it. I did the same thing that all of you have done way before me. I played doctor. I thought I was doing myself a service, but in reality I made things a hell of a lot worse.

I tried to pop it. I tried to squeeze the huge, monster-sized, pea-shaped disaster that had formed above my eye brow with no place to be hidden on my almost clear face. I took both thumbs and I really layed into that s-o-b. It did nothing. It did not move and squirt out anything except a thick, yellowish liquid. My head ached, and the ZIT stared back at me - now red and very pissed off. I could feel its heartbeat in my brain and I began to panic. I took tweezers and an pin and poked it. Nothing changed. Well almost nothing. The ZIT changed. It grew angry and more annoyed at my prodding fingers. It turned purple with a yellow center. I swear it looked like something out of the movie “Something About Mary”. Gross. Yuck. Ack.

I came downstairs from my lab (the bathroom) with a piece of tissue stuck to the wound. Jacob asked me, “What’s that, daddy?” I told him it was a boo-boo and Bridget just shook her head. “Why did you play with it? You knew this would happen.”

She was right. I knew and I did it anyway. I thought this one would be different. This one would yield to my hands and break open as I applied a little pressure. WRONG. No change here - except from bad to worse.

Thank god for a clean shower - spraying hot water on an open sore. Thank god for neosporin. Thank god for two days of not picking at it before entering my former school.

The day finally came and my ZIT was really gone for all intents and purposes. Of course, in its wake, was a scab the size of a dime. At least I had replaced it with something more disgusting.

When will I ever learn? Zit happens and we should leave it at that.

Resist. Multiply. Pop ‘um if you’ve got ‘um - or not. Enjoy this clip:

So this morning I gave Jacob a bath. This has become a daily necessity since he gets so sweaty the day before while playing in the warm soon-to-be summer sun. Today he struck me as particularly smart when he said, “Look, Daddy, I swim like a fish!” Sure enough, he was laying on his stomach, kicking his legs like a little swimmer.

Then he proceeded to drink the dirty bath water in the tub and all thoughts of genius were erased. Yikes!

Nevertheless, Jacob continues to amaze me with how expressive his language is getting. I read somewhere recently that the more we encourage him to speak, the more we actually speak to him and explain the world around him, and the more we introduce new words to him, the more he will gain language and understanding of his surroundings. It is an awesome thing to be a part of. I feel a certain parental pride when he speaks and speaks well. To me, it is a huge milestone and one I am happy to witness daily.

Interestingly enough, I am probably the second quietest Prescott in my immediate family (my mother being the first), and I always knew that there was a chance that he would be a talker - much like my father and brother. Hopefully he will learn to filter his speaking, as my father has not yet mastered this ability at 63 years young. Oh well, as I said before he is the best and worst of me. I only pray that Jacob is the best of me in this arena. Sometimes silence is the preferred mode.

For now, I will sit back and listen to everything the little warrior has to say to Bridget and myself. He is quite the talker in and out of the tub. Now if I could only get him to stop drinking the bath water!

Resist. Multiply. Don’t drink the bath water.

I am alive a short thirty one years and I have come to learn some important, crucial lessons in the that time. I am more observant of these lessons lately. Maybe it has everything to do with the changes in my life over that last two years. Maybe it has to do with more time spent with my father and son over that span of time. Maybe it even has to do with the constant examining, and reexamining of my role in Bridget’s life, in my family’s life, and how I view myself. I am not my jeans or my Manchester United tee shirt. I am not the facial hair on my face that is not completely clean-shaven, but not completely dirty either. I am not the 7 o’clock bedtime we have set for Jacob, or the 6:30 wake up call he sets for us the next morning. I am so much more than that and I know it. The world views me the way I view the world. I guess. I hope. 

The truth is I have come to learn one thing in all this time with a great deal of certainty. I am the best and the worst of my own father. What I mean by this is actually quite simple and not at all deep by any means. DNA is inescapable. It makes us who we are. It defines so much of us before we are even who we know as “us”. The more time I spend with my own father (the amazing 80’s Dad) the more I realize in many respects I am just like him. Sure I hope that I am also a better model in some ways, but the best parts of him are also me, too. I want to keep those parts and I can only hope that Jacob will keep those parts of me, as well. That needs to be repeated - an example for each generation of Prescott man to replicate. The worst parts are probably there, too. I have worked hard to lessen their severity, however. I am almost exactly half the age of my father and with that comes a greater ability to change. When you are 63 years old - so easy it is not. (Yoda)

The point (maybe): Regardless, I am more aware of the fact that my father was my first teacher. He showed me how to be a man. The version of the man I am today has plenty to do with how he taught me - in actions and deeds, in successes and mistakes, in happy times and sad ones. Jacob is already learning these lessons from me. 

With Father’s Day coming up think about your dad and the influence (good or bad) he may have had on you. I am lucky I have a father who is terrific. He is always there for me and a big reason why I am hopefully going to be a great father, too. 

I hope this post makes sense. I hope you read it and reread it and pass it along to others. I hope I am not being too presumptuous. If I am…..well…oh well. I had good intentions. I guess I get that from my father, too.

Resist. Multiply. Enjoy this funny picture of Jacob and Bridget’s foot. That’s my DNA, son!

This is the last official month of my two year tour of duty taking care of Jacob and being dubbed the primary caregiver. I am trying my best to enjoy each moment, but it is hard to realize that a situation that I have come to know and love is coming to an end. Like I have said in past posts, everything must come to an end.

Easier said than done.

With change comes uncertainty and maybe even a little nervousness. Though I am excited for the future - for the prospect of greater independence and social maturity for Jacob - I remain a little sad that I will not be there for every moment. I guess that is reality. That’s the natural order of things. I will have three months of painting to come to terms with it.

Side note: Recently, Jacob has really developed a great sense of communication with Bridget and myself. He is talking so much and expressing so much lately. It’s pretty rad. I am happy that he is so expressive and that he understands even more when he is spoken to by either Bridget or myself.

Additional Side Note: Last weekend Bridget and I threw an awesome party in our backyard. We had plenty of food, drinks, and good music for our guests to enjoy. The forecast was bad, however. Earlier in the day I asked two of my buddies to come by and help me put up a tarp to ensure that wet weather would not ruin the festivities. Jacob had a ball running around the backyard while we managed to hook up this tarp.  It did rain, and the crew that remained latest stayed dry under our tarp. Good times. (Flip cup - a popular college game - was a main attraction and a trip down memory lane for many of us.) Only one casualty of the party - the back steps broke under the weight of one of my buddies. They had rotted and have since been replaced by a competent handy man my father is friends with. Jacob thought he was a real life “Handy Manny”.

Back on track: Life is short and it is important to cherish the good times. I plan to have some more friends over this whole summer and enjoy the company that they bring. I plan to enjoy my son and my current situation as long as I can. I will always be his father and he will always be my son, but that dynamic is an ever-changing one. That’s cool with me.

Resist. Multiply. Play some flip cup.

Fire trucks and boys. What could be better? It is weird how little boys and perhaps grown men gravitate towards them.  I watch RESCUE ME to fulfill my fire truck appetite. As a boy I wanted to ride on one so badly. I would beg my parents to take me to the local fire station but it didn’t happen for me until I was in first grade and the Easter Bunny visited school on a fire truck. I got onboard and I swear it was like heaven on earth for a few fleeting seconds. I even wore a fire hat that day and I remember the Easter Bunny smiling at me - as if to say, I’m with you brother - that’s why I took this job. 

There is nothing funny or lighthearted about being a fire fighter, however. That job is way dangerous and the men and women who do it are flat out heros. I respect them and what they have done. 911 aside, they have made remarkable attempts to save life and we often do not recognize their efforts enough. 

Back on track:

Recently I took Jacob to a local toddler museum in northern New Jersey. My mother was the one who prompted the visit. She came along and told me that Jacob would really “remember” this trip. I had no idea why, but I humored her. She’s my mother and Jacob’s grandmother and I have learned that whatever she says goes. Call it being smart on my part. The same is true for my mother-in-law, Jacob’s other grandma. Whatever she says goes, too. It’s the best way to survive. Of course, Bridget is the only one who has the power to override whatever my mother or mother-in-law says. Don’t tell her I said that. Okay?

So we entered the museum and Jacob was ready to explore. There were dinosaurs, trains, helicopters, cars, horses, all kinds of animals, space shuttles, bull dozers, etc. After some smiles and laughs we came across the fire truck. Jacob quivered with excitement. His face lit up. He shouted, “Look daddy, a fire truck!” I helped him up and he sat alone in the chair as I snapped this picture.

I think his face says it all. Little boys love their fire trucks. What a great day for the warrior.

Resist. Multiply. Remember your childhood.

Here’s the picture of Jacob in his Manchester United jersey. Today we cheer the boys on as they play at 12:30 p.m. on Fox Soccer Channel in the Premier League. Go United!

Bridget tried today to “train” the wild Spartan warrior, but it did not work. He is not ready, despite answering “yes” to her whenever asked about wanting to sit on his potty. This from a kid who tells us he did not poop when his diaper is clearly screaming foul play. Regardless, the pictures below are very cute, very funny, and will be saved to embarrass Jacob when he brings his first girlfriend home many years from now. 

Look, Daddy, I am on my throne.

Careful, Mommy. I am kinda attached to that.

At least I got a cookie for my trouble.

We’ll keep trying, but it remains to be seen if this little man will do the deed on the pot. Until then, “it” happens in the diaper.

Resist. Multiply. Train, son, train.

Yesterday was Jacob’s second birthday. He brought in the day with a lot of energy, some gifts, visits at lunch from Bridget, and all his grandparents. We capped off the birthday meal with a cupcake. Take a closer look at the little man in action. It’s priceless.

This thing is so good. How did I get it on my hand?

I killed that cupcake, son.  Killed it.

More writing to come….it’s been a busy time for us all.

Resist. Multiply. Eat a cupcake and get it all over yourself.

For those of you who want to know more about Saint Patrick’s Day, but don’t want to read click here.

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day to you all. Jacob wore his Ireland soccer jersey in honor of this holiday today. 

Resist. Multiply. Drink a pint.

With changes in the weather come yard work and more time spent outside. After a three hour nap today, Jacob needed some exercise and Bridget and I needed to clean up our backyard. We have these really annoying gum tree seeds that take over our yard in late fall/early winter. Usually we do not get a chance to clean them all up before the first snow. As Owen once wrote about how a new snow makes everything look pristine, we forget about the sins of these huge gum tree seeds and we don’t think of them again until now. Of course, by now we have millions of these little bastards in the lawn, embedded in the mud, and under the shrubs, etc. 

So with rake, shovel, lawn bags, gloves, and a full-of-energy almost two year-old, Bridget and I entered our fenced in backyard and let the boy loose. He is so funny because for months he has been able to have free range of the house, but outside has really consisted of a walk to the car and a walk from the car. He was so excited that he tripped on the first pile of gum tree seeds we made. He fell with a loud thud on his hands and proceeded to lie still until I came over to help him up. “Jacob went boom.”

A few weeks ago in an attempt to take a cool picture of Jacob playing in the snow, I brought him outside for a total of five minutes. It took almost twenty minutes before that to get him into a snow suit, boots, mittens, a snow jacket, and a hat. The picture is priceless, however, and well worth the effort. This was before the sins (gum tree seeds) could be seen.

I think his face says it all. It is awesome to see how such simple things can bring happiness to the little man. That said, there is no longer any snow and so I digress to the “interesting find” of today’s adventure in the lawn.

As I worked hard to remove as many seeds as I could, Bridget was busy raking more piles for me to load into the lawn bags. Jacob was entertaining himself - stacking rocks, picking up seeds when he wanted to help a bit, and running around having a grand time. At one point I looked up and saw him chewing. This was not good, I remember thinking, because we had brought only water outside with us. Of course, I was not overly concerned because of my fixation with gum tree seeds. I yelled over to Bridget, “He’s got something in his mouth!” 

At that point, Bridget turned into super mom and ran right for Jacob. “What did you eat? What did you eat? Dean, get over here, please!” 

I put down my shovel and a few hundred gum seeds, rushed over to where they were standing, and worked my hand into Jacob’s mouth. He was still chewing, and when I got my fingers inside he stopped and smiled up at me. The kid is cute, and even with a mouthful of dirt he looks adorable. Bridget was worried he ate something poisonous, but luckily we don’t have anything like that in our backyard. Instead, the boy had an organic meal packed with minerals. A sippy cup of water later, and he was cured. 

Needless to say, Bridget and Jacob left the yard hand in hand, and returned to the warmth and safety of our living room. I tended to the gum tree seeds and filled five more bags. 

We’re going to have to watch this little warrior as Spring approaches. This video I found is even stranger - the older kids in it should be ashamed of themselves. 

Resist. Multiply. Eat dirt.

I got this one in an email from a friend, and I thought more people should be aware of the dangers of flip phones. OUCH! Poor kid. I’m making sure I never leave mine out again. Who takes a picture of their kid when this is happening? Seriously, come on.

Resist. Multiply. Clean your phone, bro.