I Need A Play Cafe

If you were to ask me what I miss most about living in Massachusetts, I would seriously put The Great Escape Play Cafe at the top of my list. Now, there are a lot of places in the area around me that cater to young kids, but they seriously do not compare. Why, there is a place less than a mile from my front door, but it has no real amenities; its basically a retail space with pastel walls filled with a few toys and art supplies, yet they still manage to charge $8 per kid for admission. I'm sorry, but I'm not paying $16 bucks for my kids to play with the same toys they have at home.

Welcome to Kidz Fun Zone.
(all patrons must sign a waiver as there is broken glass, literally, all over the place)
Please don't expect much from the staff, they're not "all-there" if you know what I mean

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The other popular option, of which there are about a dozen in the area, is "inflatable playgrounds". Yup, bounce houses; indoors. The nicest of these places in this area has a seating area in the front, with a rather depressing "Cafe", while the worst of these places is THE SAME EXACT THING! As an adult, you're paying $10 per kid to develop a nice pounding headache.

I would happily punch a baby to make the pain stop

"Where does the headache come in", you ask? Well, for those of you familiar with how an inflatable bounce house works, you know that there is a big blower that constantly supplies air to what is essentially a large semi-porous balloon that smells like plastic and vomit residue. That blower isn't really all that loud when you are near one that is outdoors, however, move that same blower indoors, into a space with some type of sound reflecting walls (because it would just kill the owner's bottom line to put up a little g-damn sound dampening, right?), and multiply it by between 10 to 20 blowers, and you have a very loud mid-tone hum that permeates your skull and pokes at the part of your brain that headaches are made. On top of the sound, there are the children shrieking in either horror or excitement depending on the exact moment in time. Another down side is that these places are popular with day camps and other large groups of kids, usually between 8 and 12 years old, and as the father of the two year old who just wants to go up and down the slide, I am constantly finding myself holding back the urge to punch a child squarely in the face for not paying attention and stepping-on, knocking over, or landing on my little bean. Don't even get me started on the "caretakers" or "counselors" that accompany these little beasts. I think what I don't like most about these places is that they might as well be rolling in field that has been flooded by an overflowing cesspool. Lets be realistic for a minute; these places host birthday parties on weekends. Birthday parties where kids are filled with pizza and sugar and then told to "go jump up and down for a while". Yup, that sounds like a great idea to me! I think its safe to assume that every square inch of these places is as clean as a men's room floor.

This doesn't occur in or near the restroom
at an inflatable playground  

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The final location for indoor play that I will talk about is the ever popular, ever crowded mall play area, or "the yard" as I like to refer to it. At any given time, of any given day, this squishy-floored oasis of mid-mall rumpus time is full; usually with kids who are too old to be there. Late Wednesday morning on a school day; there is an unsupervised 9 year old in the corner with a pack of smokes rolled up in his sleeve and a cold icy look in his eyes that just scream out "I've seen some shit go down in my time." You want to ask him why he is not in school, but you also don't want to be knifed in front of your children by someone who won't face jail time and will probably hunt you down after the fact to finish the job.

"You bitches see the big tree, the turtle and the bunny? That's my corner and you best remember that less you wanna get cut"

If the threat of aggravated assault at the hands of a pre-pubescent boy doesn't scare you off, the overall sanitary conditions should. The first thing you notice is bare feet; dozens of bare feet on kids who will likely be, or have been, sent home from school  due to "hygiene issues." These little petri dishes that they call feet come in contact with every surface in the play area. EVERY SURFACE. This ensures that if your child didn't enter with a fungal infection, they are sure as shit leaving with one!

"Mama calls it my sexy feet spray to make my itchies go away!"

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This brings me to my happy place. The Great Escape. There are many reasons that we love this place, but I have narrowed it down to three major points. They are as follows:

The People 

For some strange reason, most of the people I met there, especially Olga, were more receptive to me than any other place I have been around here. I'm a large bald man with a full beard. Most moms see me on the playground and peg me as a walking Amber Alert. I never felt that there. I would often be invited into conversations with complete strangers on a wide range of topics. Here, it seems, speaking to me or at the very least, eye-contact for a brief moment, is too much for most to handle. I end up being like the kid on the other side of the fence watching the other kids play. Lucky for me, that side of the fence is the direction the walkers will be coming from and I'll have ample time to escape and plan my next step in survival! (In a zombie situation, always, ALWAYS befriend the first person with a beard that you see. He is manlier and your chances of survival improve ten-fold)

Ron Swanson WILL be the last man standing in a zombie apocalypse.

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The Barrier

TGE has a large windowed wall separating the play area from the cafe. When you have kids that are old enough to play on their own in there, you could let them run free while you sit back, drink your latte and dream about days past when you didn't have these little parasites sucking the life out of you at every chance they got. It is peaceful, relaxing and just plain good. Even on a bad day, all is still good. The most you have to worry about is telling your kid to "get back in there and play." They even have monitors keeping track of the kids at play.  You really can't ask for more.

Daddy can't hear you sweetie pie, he's in his happy place now

---

The Cafe

Ok, I was wrong when I said you can't ask for more, because if you're there, you're going to order a coffee or a latte, or a cappuccino the size of a bath tub. And its all damn good too! They have a bunch of snack options for the kids that are, wickedly, placed in their line of sight, but aside from that minor "daddy-can-I-have..." flaw, It's perfect. They make great panini for the grown ups, and plenty of kid-friendly options for lunch time as well, but if your kids are like mine, you can order them whatever you want to eat because you're going to be the one finishing 90% of their meal. Aside from the great coffee and food, there is just a nice vibe about the space that makes it ideal to read a book, get a little work done, play a board game or just stare at the wall in relative peace without your kids tearing at your psyche!

From my experience, the answer is always "not enough"

---

That should give you a good idea of why I truly miss TGE, and why, one day I hope to emulate their vibe in a shop of my own where I rule with an iron fist or an indifferent shrug, depending on what mood i am in that day. 

Politics as Unusual

Every so often, someone that I know does something so amazing that I am almost duty bound to share their work with the world. Today I am excited to share an incredible and adorable personal project of a very talented and very good friend of mine, Ashley Pizzuti of Pizzuti Studios Photography. Her "political" project is a welcome change to what has been a particularly nasty election season.

Select here to visit the project gallery. 

"I'm Chase and I approve this message"
Photo used with permission of Pizzuti Studios. 

26 lbs of Adorable Destruction

A silent child is always up to something they shouldn't be doing. I'll write that again because it bears repeating: A silent child is always up to something they shouldn't be doing.

I'm afraid you dont fully understand what I said.
A silent child is always up to something they shouldn't be doing. 

15 seconds is all the time she needs to create havoc. I turned my back on Quinn to make space on a shelf for a pan I had just finished cleaning and in this time, she went to town on a loaf of bread. She impressively poked a hole in every slice of what was a brand new loaf this morning, and she did so silently, a mere inches from where I stood. I blame myself for underestimating her destructive awesomeness. Now I have to go to the grocery store once again for more bread.

Worst Toys of 2012

In an effort to help my fellow parents avoid wasting money this holiday season, I will be occasionally showing off the worst toys available for your dollar*. Like the t-shirts that get printed for the team that loses the Super Bowl in the event they were to win, many of these toys will be widely available in humanitarian drop boxes shortly after the holiday season.

"um...thank you?"

Drunkard

Life with a two year old is what life must be like in a half-way house where the residents are just not trying at all. At any given time, there is something in this house that has been left in a location that nobody in their right mind could even fathom placing it, but it's location makes perfect sense to the one who put it there. Just this morning, I found what was once a strawberry pressed into a a little wooden birdhouse that my older girl painted. I can safely assume that my 2 year old put it there because why not? The imaginary birds living in the tiny house love strawberries. We have a big Lego head that is a storage container for Lego's...perfect place for half a pop tart and a used magic eraser. You want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich? you're in luck...look in the bottom right corner of the toy box. You're welcome.

Its not all hidden treasure that confirms that my child is a 40 year old alcoholic in a 2 year old body, its also her mannerisms and movements. As I write this, she is sitting on an inflatable lady bug chair, watching the ceiling fan while attempting to eat granola out of a small bowl. She seems to be taking it on faith that the bowl is still where it was when she started, because she has not turned her head away from the fan at all. Her tiny arm flops to the side and begins to feel around, eventually grabbing a handful and blindly moving it back toward her mouth and indiscriminately dropping the crunchy treat in the area above her mouth. for every piece that lands in her mouth, about 5 or 6 land on her face, belly, neck, chair, and she genuinely does not care! This is something I could picture honey boo boo's mama doing with a ladle and a crock of gravy.

Walking is also a treat to observe. Some days, she walks with grace and purpose...most days, she walks like a zombie walking on a water bed. I'm worried that one day, her drunken stumbling will lead to a hilarious minor injury; perhaps a Chris Foley-esque fall onto a play table, crushing all in her path. If you are fortunate enough to witness such an event, the puke walk is concrete evidence of her true self. This is when you watch your child throw up a little bit, as she is walking, and not being phased by it one bit; not even so much as an acknowledgement of what just happened. As nonchalant as passing wind whilst walking down the street. Second to this phenomena is the casual puke. This is where she will be sitting doing something, perhaps eating but not necessarily, and just throws up without warning, and then casually proceeds with her business, as if she had only burped. Those confuse me the most.

Whats almost as bad as their involuntary mouth discharge is what comes out of the other end. I'm assuming most of those reading this have changed a diaper or two in their lives, and in doing so, have experienced an "OH MY DEAR LORD" moment at least once. I am convinced that, once a month, the toddler body reprocesses everything that the child eats and tells their body that they just got off a wild night of drinking a whole 40 pack of Ice House tall boys. It doesn't matter what you fed them, or how much of it they ate: their body is going to perform a magic show, and you are the lucky attendee. If you have ever been to college, you know what the dorm or apartment bathroom smells like on Sunday morning/afternoon after a keg party where you and your roommates shattered your personal records. Now take that stench and concentrate it into a diaper-sized space. When it comes time to open and change that atrocity of human biology, you need an open window, a full package of wipes, and the ability to put it out of your mind right away, as there are going to be 3 or four more peppered throughout your day.

 
Perhaps my favorite "drunken" behavior of my 2 year old is the spontaneous nap. These are the rarest, but they are the most appreciated because they involve no cleaning and you get a break for a short time. Typically, these come on like this: Quinn will approach me and speak to me in gibberish, and follow it up with a scream and then a calm statement, also in gibberish. (One day, I hope to decipher the meaning.) This is followed up by one of two actions: 1. She gestures to me to pick her up and she falls asleep almost instantly in my arms. 2. She lays in the spot where she is standing and passes out cold.
I know that these are not actions that are unique to my child and that most 2 year olds are little drunkards at heart. If you have a story, share it! I'm sure everyone would love to read it!

I'll name this later.

After begging and pleading with a very good friend of mine to contribute to the blog, he finally told me to go screw! Well, maybe not in those words, it was more like blah blah blah, wife and I work day and night on our photography business, blah blah blah, while we balance taking care of our daughter, blah blah blah, sleep deprived, yak yak yak so stressful, and then a bunch of nonsense because I tuned him out because he was bringing me down!*  There was however, one golden nugget; he offered to contribute short thoughts, musings, etcetera... I'll be thinking of a title for what I hope will be a regular contribution, but until then I present to you: Pizzuti's Peculiar Proverbs. Short Thoughts on Life as a Dad**

1. "why does a toddler poop sometimes smell like the kid tried to cover up dead body stench with the smell of popcorn?"

* this conversation may or may not have happened.
** working title

On a serious note.

I've tried to write an introduction to this story I read on the Huffington Post, but it's nearly impossible to find the words, so I'll just let it speak for its self. 

Lots of Tears With Less Than a Few Months to Live 

Meredith Israel Thomas and her Daughter Niomi.

The World's Greatest Grocery Store

I was daydreaming today while grocery shopping, all by myself, about what the perfect grocery store would have for those of us who typically have to shop with kids attached to us. Ideally, there would be some sort of supervised play area before you even step into the market itself. Walking into the store all by yourself is a glorious feeling, so having a separate entrance for the play area would allow that feeling upon every visit. If that is not possible, here is a list of features that are easily added to existing supermarkets to make a parent's trip a little sweeter.

1. Shopping cart crotch guards.
   If you are a man and you have ever pushed a shopping cart with a toddler in it, you have been kicked squarely in the junk at least once in your life. If you're like me, its far from a rare occurrence and you really don't like pushing the cart in an arched-over position to protect your naughty bits from the shod feet of a toddler.  Well friend-o, fret no more because the Crotch Guard is here to help. Simply remove the Crotch Guard from the display bin, or rack, clip onto the cart and viola, the child can now only swing her feet a few inches, and your nether regions are pain free for the duration of your trip. Done shopping? Un-clip Crotch Guard and place it in the collection bin.
2. Phone clips for shopping carts.
   Face it; you want to be there with your kid as much as they want to be there with you. A kid who doesn't want to be some place will remind you repeatedly for the duration of your time at said-place. That's where the phone clip comes into place. Clip your phone into place, turn on a movie and their hands are free to eat samples and not get your phone covered in goo. and that brings us to...
3. Non-messy food samples at every other isle.
   Supermarkets hate people who bring kids with them. I can prove this simply by listing the things that they give out as samples regularly: Chocolate Klondike bars, strange colored yogurt, Cheetos...they may as well give out jars of India ink with defective tops or cut out the hassle and simply have an employee standing at a tub or ranch dressing smear handfuls onto your kid's clothes. From now on, I'd like to see things like plain white popcorn, goldfish crackers, uncooked pasta. Place them every other isle so that the kids stay distracted and fed for the whole trip.
   A separate store for flowers and balloons:
4. Leave the flowers and balloons to the florists. I don't want to cause a tantrum because I have to say no to the Dora balloon clipped to the damn meat counter. What is it doing at the meat counter? Baiting kids with balloons so that parents wanting to avoid a tantrum will buy them is a dick-move.
5. Real liquor.
   I'm not a "beer guy", I'm a "Tequila Guy" Your row of Anheuser-Busch bush products does nothing for me. Sell the good stuff at the grocery store so that I don't have to be the deadbeat asshole who brings his kids into the liquor store. 
6. Plain, industrial-looking packaging on everything marketed to kids.

That should do it.

Do you hear me grocery stores? Hook a father up!

LEGO Envy

You name it, I've been called it: sad, pathetic, creepy, Sandusky, nuts, man-boy, immature, and bizarre just to name a few. And that's just what people have called me regarding my fascination addiction to collecting LEGO Mini figures! So just to clear the air and get this out of the way: Hello, my name is Jimmy and I have a LEGO problem. To be perfectly honest, my addiction began a long time ago, when I was but a wee lad in Leominster. It was a hunger I could not feed however, as LEGO sets are really expensive as far as toys go, and being the youngest of 10, I'm amazed that I was not sacrificed at an early age to feed the family and make for one less mouth to feed*. Because of that, I had to envy the sets that my spoiled friend had and never wanted to play with as if out of spite!

That son of a bitch had the airport...THE AIRPORT!

So due to the price of LEGO sets, I was left with a 2x3 brick shaped hole in my heart. (and a matching scar on my foot! you ever step on a 2x3 brick barefoot? THE PAIN, oh the pain!) Fast forward a few years to when I started working and making money. I was forced to shelf my fondness for the colorful little bricks in favor of a social life.

Being the Lego guy in high school is about as cool as being involved
in live action role play. (sure they had girls, but at what cost?)  

After high school was college, and any spare cash was not going to be spent on toys, so once again, I set my future hobby adrift on a sea of alcohol and bong water. 8 years later, I was finally finished school** and on the verge of being married.
The next few years were pretty bitchin'. I married my wife, we traveled as much as we could and when the time was right, we made Sloane.*** Having a child was the greatest feeling in the world...I now have an excuse to buy Legos! But it would take some time and a 2nd child to bring my dreams to fruition. The moment everything fell into place was on a trip to Toys R Us to pick up a gift for Sloane.
At the register was a box of series 6 Mini-figures. $3 at the time didn't seem like much to have a small taste of what the kid in me had been clamoring for. I grabbed one, along with my original intended purchase, paid the cashier and made for the car. I waited a total of about 1 minute before tearing open the pack like a crazed 10 year old and was delighted to see the parts for "Bandit". That's all it took for me to be hooked. My addiction is well under control, I typically only get 2-3 new figs per month if I am lucky, but if I should ever be on the receiving end of a large sum of extra cash, there is a solid chance I will end up divorced, living in a storage facility surrounded by millions of tiny bricks.

I'll also have all my little friends!

* Can you imagine having to feed and care for 10 children? I have 2 and feeding them is expensive enough! When I was a kid, I always thought my dad was a hard-ass cheapskate, which he was, but in retrospect, it was for a pretty damn good reason...he had 10 ungrateful little shits like me to feed.
** Don't you judge me! I went to school part time while delivering pizza 60 hours a week. Good money, but your car ends up smelling something awful!
*** You think the instructions for IKEA furniture are complicated, you should try making a kid!

How Not To Keep New Friends

There are several ways that one can sabotage a friendship. For example, one could introduce their new friends' children to the video below. For the next few weeks, those parents will be forced to hear this song repeatedly and for that we are sorry! To my readers, if you are reading this and your kids are close by, its too late for you too! They have seen the still frame and are hopping up and down asking to see what it is. Enjoy the upcoming weeks!

Quinn The Thief Strikes Again!

Thieving Toddler Sets Her Sights On Credit Union Lollipops

More addictive to a small child than crystal meth to white trash, Dum-Dums have
become a popular target for thieving toddlers looking for their next sugar fix.

Someday, this blog will look good.

As a Graphic Designer by trade, I am ashamed of the fact that I am using a generic blog template from the available choices that were provided to me. I'm hoping that someday, i'll have the time, motivation, and most important, the focus necessary to remedy this. One thing is for certain: I'll never be one of those assholes who use white text on a black background and therefore forcing my readers to see zebra stripes for 10 minutes after reading.

Therapy

Back when we lived in Massachusetts, I would see a therapist twice a month to maintain my sanity. On my first session, I was describing the stress I was under simply due to my girls wanting to be near me or play with me every waking moment of the day. His response still resonates with me to this day.
"I know what you mean; it's tough having someone around who loves you to the point of worship and is happiest when you are around." It was a blunt slap in the face skillfully delivered via sarcasm and it forever flipped a switch in my head as to how I think about my kids. Upon further discussion on the topic with him, I walked away with a better understanding of myself and more importantly my family. That conversation was the first step toward my decision to leave my job to spend even more time with the girls by becoming a stay-at-home-dad.

Sorry if this post was boring...they can't all be comic gold!

AKA "Quinny Goodtimes" Master Thief

Today we had a humorously eventful trip to CVS to pick up a few necessities. Upon entering the store and grabbing a basket, Quinn grabbed one too. Without missing a beat, she made her way to the candy display, her basket in tow, and began to grab whatever was at her level to fill it up. This took all of about 15 seconds, or the time it took me to scan my Extracare card to see if I had any discounts. As much as it displeased her, i proceeded to empty her basket back onto the shelves and carry her around for the duration of our visit. When we arrived at the register, I paid for our things and the cashier commented on how cute Quinn was and we said good bye. At this point, I need to put Quinn down because my hands were too full to carry her. That's when she made her move. She saw someone entering the store and thought it would be a perfect opportunity. She ran to the snickers display and proceeded to grab as many as she could handle, and then some, and make toward the open door, dropping the excess snickers bars behind her every three feet or so, clenching onto two of them with her tiny hands to ensure that her heist yielded at least something. Out the door and around the side of our building toward the car, leaving me behind to repeatedly apologize and reassure them that I'll bring back the candy. I made a dash for her, being careful not to squish the 5 or 6 candy bars she was unable to hold onto and caught up to her half way to the car. I grabbed her and brought her, as well as the dropped candy, back into the store to the sound of hysterical laughter from the staff behind the counter who applauded her determination but condemned her actions. In the end, we left the store with our things and she was given a snack sized snickers from a very amused manager. I have mixed feelings on the lesson that she learned, that if you don't get away with the crime, you at least get a consolation prize, but I suppose we have plenty of time to teach her not to steal things!

"Yeah I did it; and I'll do it again, see!"

Bratz

If I dressed my girl's like Bratz dolls, I would be worse than Honey Boo Boo's Mamma. If I were to buy my girls Bratz dolls, I would also feel obligated to put a pole in their room so they can practice for their future career, as well as introduce them to cocaine and meth and put an air freshener in their room that time releases the stench of failure.

Slutz

I had a wonderful dream!

If there were more of her, I wouldn't be forced to play UNO ever again!

Cartoons sure do suck these days.

Ruby Gloom

I really don't understand the point of this show. Is she dead? is she alive? All that i can say for sure is that somewhere, in a mall food court, there is a pale, chubby teenaged girl dressed all in black and somewhere on her clothing, or the lunch box she carries as a purse, is the image of this cartoon character. Because, although she is brooding, deep and undoubtably hates her parents (probably for no good reason), she has a whimsical side... and she is a complete poser.   

I don't like anything that convinces my kids that being a pale goth chick is cool. 

Child Star vs. Child "Reality" Star

I can't imagine because they have yet to invent the hillbilly drug that she'll be hooked on.

Child Rule #2 Elaborated

Never assume you are alone. 

In a ongoing post called Child Rules, rule number 2 states: "A closed door is meaningless. If you wanted to use the toilet in peace, alone, you should have snuck in while i was not looking and securely locked the door as quietly as possible. If I know you're in there, I will scream; loudly and as long as it takes for me to get you to open the door and let me in." This morning, was no exception. Its about as often as the girls putting themselves both down for a 3 hour voluntary nap that I get to take a long, relaxing shower, but this morning the opportunity presented itself and I jumped on it like Honey Boo Boo's mama on something deep fried and covered in syrup and the antidote to feeling shame. All was well in the house as I stood still, the hot water splashing my face and the only sound to be heard was that of the shower itself and the hum of the ceiling vent. If my life were a slasher movie, here is the point where i would have met my bloody, stabby death; "DADDY!" The tiny voice said loudly, snapping me out of my hot, sudsy trance. There with her face pressed firmly against the shower door was Sloane, as if startling me wasn't enough, she had to up the ante by creepily watching me for god-knows how long. 

"GET OUT" I yell. 

"I just wanted to say good morning, daddy" she replies with a smile.

"Good Morning Sloane, now get out" I say back to her.

"Good morning. where is mommy? is she with Quinn?" she says.

"If you go find her, you'll answer both questions" I tell her.

"but you can answer the question for me" she replies.

"Sloane, get out of the bathroom" I say and begin to shampoo my hair.

"Whats in your hair? Why is it blue?" she asks.

"Shampoo. Its green because its a special shampoo to get rid of dandruff" I Tell her.

"Whats dandruff" She says back

"Dandruff is flaky skin that falls off your head when it gets too dry" I tell her.

"Thats gross daddy" she tells me.

"It is, thats why I use the...wait, didn't I tell you to get out of here?" I say.

"Yes"

"Well why are you still here? for the love of god Sloane, I just want to finish my shower in peace, can you please just get the hell out of here and let me do that?" I plead with her.

"Thats all you had to say daddy." she says back to me with a snide tone.

"What?" I ask.

"Please" she says exiting the room. 

Moments later, she pops her head in the door to ask "Can I pleeeeeeeeeeeeease take a shower after you?" fully understanding that she is driving me crazy on purpose. Her wit is only matched by her capacity for evil.

The lessons you should take away from this:

• Children will use anything and everything that you teach them to tear down your psyche. Its akin to having a therapist spend the last 15 minutes of every session ridiculing and insulting you based on what they learned about you in the first 45 minutes.

• Lock your damn doors. Incessant knocking is better than the alternative.