A List

Aol.com came out with a list of the top "hottest" celebrity dads. They are:

1. Brad Pitt
2. David Beckham
3. Johnny Depp
4. Will Smith
5. Matt Damon
6. John D'Alessandro
7. Ryan Phillipe
8. Ben Affleck
9. Joel Madden
10. Seal
11. Patrick Dempsey
12. Barack Obama
13. Gavin Rossdale
14. Tom Cruise
15. Tobey Maguire
16. Mark Consuelos

"My father used to play with my brother and me in the yard. Mother would come out and say, "You're tearing up the grass." "We're not raising grass," Dad would reply. "We're raising boys."" ~Harmon Killebrew

Picture of the Father's Day Weekend

Because time best spent on the lawn should not entail a mower.

Send your favorite kid pictures to: dalessandrochristine@gmail.com

Sadness

News outlets are reporting that one of the few journalists I have always admired, Tim Russert, passed away today from a sudden heart attack.

He was only 58.

Guess Who?

We have a winner!!! Beckee has successfully identified this week's mystery guest as one of my favorite sitcom sidekicks, Josh Saviano...or "Paul", Kevin's awkward and endearing best friend on The Wonder Years.

Not only does this little installment serve as a reminder of how great television used to be, it also welcomes Beckee into the elite club of useless knowledge mongers. Since I have also known Beckee since I was in the 5th grade, this poem is going to take some time.

Until next week.....

The Week In Review

The Top Five Things I Learned This Week

5) Southerners are crazy and I must find a way to move my family down there.

4) When constructing a Father's Day gift list, actually asking a man his opinion helps tremendously.

3) Apparently, Blue Eyes has high chairs.

2) An Adoption Day isn't really a celebration of some judge deciding that your new family is being legally recognized; it's about recognizing that your blessings are far greater than your biology.

1) Just when I thought the smell of spilled milk was the best way to stink up a car, I discovered something worse: urine.

Amen.

I Couldn't Make This Stuff Up

Today started out so perfectly.

1) My little man took a wonderful morning nap, allowing for endless crafts, muffin making, and some quality one on one time with my daughter...all while a contractor worked dilligently to complete a job for us (and he arrived right on time!).

2) We headed to Kohls for the Father's Day tie (I can't bring myself to spend dolla-dolla bills on a tie he may only wear once). Upon arrival, my munchkins not only behaved perfectly, O actually had a great time sorting through the endless piles of dad ties. She finally settled on an unoffensive one, despite my best attempts at bringing a pink tie with blue lobsters to her attention.

3) We headed to the park for a picnic and some quality time. The weather was perfect (unlike the suffocating heat we've been having in our area of late), the park was not at all crowded, and my cherubs quietly chomped away on their lunches as we sat beneath the cooling shade of a happy old elm.

--After a week of extreme teething (he's getting his eye teeth before his front two?), and some pretty extraordinary tantrums (it's just a phase, it's just a phase, it's just a phase), for the first time in too long I was actually able to sit still and completely enjoy a moment. It was heaven.

O went on to play for a bit while I sat with the mister, naming everything I could and watching his wonderment. It was pure happiness.

And then, it was time for a potty break.

Genius am I, I purchased the "potette" from One Step Ahead when my little cupcake first started on the potty. I know this may generate some ire, but she actually trained herself almost completely in one weekend...the whole sha-bang-a-bang-a. I am not saying this to brag, and if you think so, I'll be happy to send you the catalog of "challenges" you probably do not have to worry about with your own child. (If you have ever shared a meal with my daughter, you know exactly what I am talking about too).

Anyway, the "potette" is a little collapsable potty that you easily store in your car. When the occasion of need arises, you simply pop it open, place a baggie over it, and the bag catches whatever may come its way. This has been an awesome thing for us to use, especially during those long trips to Virginia when stopping to potty would mean waking the baby.

This little device is also good if, like me, the thought of using a public restroom has you ready to don foul weather gear and toss bottles of Purell into the facilities like grenades before entering. (On a side note, my mother has made it her life's mission to seek out all the acceptable restroom facilities in every state, as well as some areas of England, Italy, and Belgium....when in doubt, find a Nordstrom).

SO here's what happened:

"Mommy, I have to use the potty."

Taking her hand, I usher her and her little brother to the trunk of my SUV where our ritual begins.

The baby goes in first. He is placed in the far corner where two distractions/toys are waiting for him. She hops in after him and I set up the potette and respective baggie.

If it is a very private place, I'll leave the back door aloft, but I once made the mistake of doing that off a less private road and she spent her personal time yelling at cars to slow down.

Since we were practically the only ones there, I left the door open and she went about her business. My first mistake was just tossing the keys wherever. It took my son seconds to retrieve them and languish in a rare moment of unapproved play. Until I was done with her, I had to let him go....but, oh, how I hate germy keys!

After she finished, she stood up to arrange her clothes appropriately while I went to apprehend the hostage keys. Before I could even begin to extend my arm, my little man looked up, smiled, and tossed them....

into the potette.

Forget the germs that were on it, I now had set soaked in urine with no clear means of removal. I had a baby tentatively corned in the, well, corner, and a half-naked damsel naming all the princesses on her big girl panties, and I had one overwhelming feeling of nausea as expectoration slowly crept up my throat.

I had to get them.

Gross. Awful. Repugnance.

In an instant, I pinched them and hurled them into the grass below. With the toxified two fingers aloft in the air, I used my other hand to search for the Sani-wipes in my diaper bag.

And that's when I saw him out of the corner of my eye.

My little one, recognizing a window of opportunity when it presented itself, was headed on all fours for the bubbling bowl of yellow.

Nooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!

I swoop down with my sterile arm to grab him and prevent certain disgust, and though that mission was quickly accomplished, I also managed to knock the entire contents of the potette onto the floor of my car.

As both children waited in their car seats, slurping away on water, I scrubbed the car with an old towel and the thoughts of Father's Day running through my head.