Quick, need help

Tipping is one of the most awkward acts I know. I got a couple hardworking and considerate HVAC guys redoing our home (duct, furance replacement, etc.). Real hard working and doing it as if it's their home and explaining every step of the way to me. Professionals, no doubt. Is a tip insulting to a professional or would it be appreciated? They'll be finished around 2, reply in comments if you could. Thanks!

Got a poll up on hvac-talk.com and currently have 29/4 in favor so far. Interesting comments.

It hurts my ears - stop it

On the way to daycare

Frankie and I listened to this on a quiet ride to school today. She loved it. She has interesting taste in music. She likes the kazoo-rich kid's stuff but also has enjoyed samples of blues, reggae, Pavarotti and we're still trying.

Lorence, in the comments, was nice enough to point me to a clearer version of the lyrics: Thanks!

The most surprising observation of parenting

It's interesting how society characterizes its younger members as "forward thinking", liberal, embracing diversity, etc. While it is sometimes the case, more often, it is the experience and intermittent tragedies experienced with age that brings tolerance. When it comes to a simple thing like dining out, I notice it. We only eat at casual (and loud) restaurants, e.g. Columbus Fish Market.

Several years ago, we went to Haiku (a big risk) at about 5:30 pm (pretty darn early for dinner, certainly before the cool hipsters eat) with another couple. Our kids at the time were about 2 years old and, surprisingly, well-behaved that night. Every group of young people entering the restaurant would be met by the host. The host would show them to a table near us. Then, one in the party would whisper secretly to the host. I suspect they expressed their desire to sit as far from us as possible, since they would usually sit down as far from us as the room would allow. Maybe I'm just paranoid.

We do everything to prevent a bad experience for diners near us and sometimes have to leave if the kid gets too loud. I think we're considerate.

Another time on a flight, an older gentleman reclined his seat such that his head was inches from Frankie. It happened to be the only flight ever she was loud. He slept through it. When the flight was over, I apologized to him. He just shrugged it off and smiled.

Tantrums are frequently observed in Target when a flustered Mom is trying to pay for goods and maintain order among several little ones. Parents look on with empathy. Many just roll their eyes. While at OSU's athletic center, Frankie had a tantrum in the middle of one of the aerobic machine areas. I just stood over her waiting for it to end casually watching the videos while a horrified, busily-cycling crowd looked at me with disapproval. I think they just turned up their Ipods.

Society is a collection of age, culture, gender and ethnicity. The least tolerant, most likely to look upon difference with disdain are often the youngest and most self-absorbed.

Stages of blogging

Me? Stage II, pass it on ...

Last night I saw the Don alive and well

Last Thursday night, before the parent-teacher meeting at daycare, I dropped by the evil capitalist empire, Starbucks, for a decaf. Parked before the door was the most elegant automobile in the history of automobile manufacturing, the 1978 Cadillac Eldorado. The classic subtle divot in front of the rear wheel well distinguishes the design and put it at the height of my automobile fantasy. Sadly, 1979 brought a redesign removing this unique style element and it was made much smaller, thus destroying the beauty forever. Depicted above is not the actual car; the actual vehicle was white and pristine all around. White, perfect chrome details and black interior. I looked around the car keeping a good 5 feet from it.

I know, I know, gas guzzler, energy abuser, not green, etc. But this, for better or worse, is the quintessential vehicle of this country. No other will ever come close to it's stately appearance (and 4-barrel power).

I dragged myself away, removed the drool from my face, walked in and knew the man walking toward me was the owner. He was in his 60-70's, tastefully dressed in black, had thinning and (lightly) slicked back hair carrying a cappuccino to his table. I asked if it was his car. Quietly and proudly he said it was. I complimented him on it. He looked pleased, smiled and sat down. I felt like asking for a ride.

Did I say my birthday's coming up?

Jumpcut vs. Youtube

Lately, I've been learning how to get video from my camera to the net with some privacy. Frankie's soccer games are coming and I don't want to have to get consent forms from all the parents (nor would they sign them if I could) to post videos of the kids - no matter how unpopular 4-5 yr old soccer is. So, I first posted a sample vid to Youtube and labeled it private. Good, I thought. Now I'll just send it to a string of emails and only a limited audience will be able to see it. Wrong. Youtube vids marked as "private" cannot be sent out with email permissions.

Jumpcut, Yahoo!'s version of a video site DOES allow this. I tried a sample Frankie greeting vid and sent it around to the family and it worked like a charm. Very cool. Streaming updates of the kid to a limited audience will follow. I should also note, the vid is hosted at Jumpcut, so the email is only a few K; won't gob up your inboxes.

Survival

Last Saturday, Frankie had approximately seventy play dates. The second of them was with Sofie, her new friend for life. Surprisingly, they wanted nothing to do with a DVD and we were charged with keeping them from invading Suzi's personal space or falling off the backyard ledge into the ravine.

Painting is one of Frankie's favorite activities of all time and my least favorite activity of all time. So, trying to suppress my anal retentiveness regarding painting, and, it being too early to crack a brew, I decided we could paint in the kitchen. We have enough counter space and running water to keep things clean. Also, I decided we'd paint on a paper plate canvas - in a meager attempt to contain the paint. Hah.

They painted their hearts out for about a half hour. An amazing span of attention for both of the budding artists. I was impressed. They used glitter glue, colored paints, beads, black-eyed peas and puffy balls of cotton as their medium (in addition to most of their body parts). And, each had plenty of art to bring home to a proud Mom.

The one depicted is, selfishly, mine ... because it was the best. It's almost Friday. Have a good weekend.

Not private yet => Frankie on YouTube; I think she was about 1.75 years old.

"Parenting: Whatever You're Doing, It's Wrong"

... is going to be the title of my new parenting book.

Many studies have shown that being stinking rich doesn't make one happy. People who've won the lottery return to their baseline mood.

I'd like to challenge this finding first hand if you don't mind.

The way I'm going to tackle this is to write a parenting book. Last night, while on our father-daughter Thursday night on the town, I fell prey to a parenting book in the library while Frankie was playing computer games. It was called "Parenting Without Fear". I forget the author's name and I'm not going to waste your time by giving a link. I'm just lucky I saw it at the library and didn't buy it. But, I was vulnerable and picked it up because of the title. Hence, the title of my book.

Nothing can shake up one's insecurities like parenting decisions. We make them, stand by them and hope we don't screw up our little ones in the process. We also try desperately to minimize engaging in social comparison. Yet, we still stumble on these rags. My only idol in the field is Dr. Sears; lots of good advice, no flashy book titles and his advice is largely free online. Again, what lures me in is the title. It's like being stabbed with a fork and the only way to get it out is to pick it up and torture yourself by reading a few pages.

The author tries to convince the reader of an authoritative style of parenting and claims repeatedly his style is not authoritarian. He fails repeatedly. He describes many anecdotes in which the parents have made wrong decisions and never bothers to mention that the child in two different situations may actually be different and may require different learning strategies. I don't want to rant about this author more than I already have, it's not worth it, and I don't want to disclose the specific reasons why he would consider my wife and I complete failures as parents because parenting decisions are private. (No, we've never laid a hand on Frankie in anger, ever, and a frequently used reward system utilizes smoked pork products, but that's all I'll say.)

So, I'm considering starting work on my book. I think it'll be amazingly short because there are no general parenting rules. Every kid's different and every situation is different. But, with a title like that, how could you not pick it up? Sounds like a book Ann Coulter would write. I'll make millions.

Chapter Outline to follow.

Leaf Painting

Signs of falling leaves are all around. Quick, before the leaves fall and turn brown, grab their chlorophyll and do some Chrokee Leaf Painting. We hope to replace a dinner's dessert time with a walk to the ravine this week to do this activity. I can't wait. I think Frankie will have a blast. Since it involves lots of pounding, her class might enjoy it as well. I'll post pics of our results.

Idea heard on Science Friday and Camp Out! The Ultimate Kids' Guide.

Hmmm.

Almost labor day and the sad end to the Summer. Everyone's busy. I'm doing Sunday laundry, Trish is sanding a chair, Frankie's bouncing on the bed and cheating at Shoots & Ladders and Suze ... well, she's misbehaving too. Drinking the last drops of Frankie's tea she had this morning. Maybe I should've intervened on this one. Suze didn't even flinch when I walked by her. Mr. Discipline I am.