Michael’s Page

BabySitter

Raising Michael

Michael is my third child. What’s so special about Michael that I choose to write about him and not the others? Nothing that makes him more special to me than any of the other three I have. Each one presents their own special moments and special challenges but I have chosen to speak about Michael on this page.

The day Michael was born… First let me say that my OB let me stew in my miserable, extremely hot summer pregnancy for almost three weeks past his due date. Yes, you heard me right. Even then, he was so angry about leaving his warm and safe environment that he pooed on the doctor for extracting him.

I actually went into the hospital on my brother-in-law’s birthday. Everyone was excited that he was to be born on Greg’s birthday – that is, everyone except Michael, so much so that he waited until twenty minutes after mid-night to be born just so he would have his own birthday. That’s what I told everyone anyways.

After his birth, he was very content to snooze until he was ready to figure out the whole life on the outside thing. Unfortunately, the nursed in the room decided that he needed to be mess with. When they took this absolutely zen self away from me to take his newborn vitals, he protested – loudly. As soon as they left him alone for a few moments, he immediately closed his eyes and quieted down only to start hollering at the top of his lungs when she interrupted his quiet repose.

This covers his first hour of life and set the precedence for the rest of it.

 

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Yay, Michael’s home, well, he’s actually been home for a few months, but he came home ill and had to recoup so I gave him time to get back to his old self. He came home with some good stories. Whether they’re true or not depends on your view of reality, so take it or leave it, it makes me laugh, cry, moan… pick an adjective, it’s fun… more to come, or maybe not we’ll see…

 

Whilst Michael is far, far away, teaching the people of Philadelphia for two years, there will unfortunately be little or no activity on his little post here. We already miss him like mad and the humor stores are depleting fast – but he is out in the world, gaining life experience and I’m sure plenty of fodder for future posts.

We love you Michael and await anxiously for your return…

Michael page

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Nothing’s wrong with doo-doo; everybody does it!

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Check out this extraordinary youtuber “brusspup

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“Did you hear that?”

“What? I didn’t hear anything.”

“No, wait… listen…”

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Where’s the kitten?”

“I don’t know; he was just in the living room.”

“Quiet, turn off the TV…”

“Wait, I think I heard him… is he outside?”

Looked outside

“Is he outside?”

“No. Did you lock him in the laundry room?”

“I just looked in there.”

Both enter the laundry room

“I don’t see him. Wait he stopped meowing.”

“It’s too noisy, turn the washer and dryer off.”

“Stop talking, I can barely hear him.”

Everyone stands still listening intently

Daughter enters room

“Did you find the kitten?”

“No, it sounds like he’s outside, but…”

“Jeez, I leave him with you for five minutes…”

“Wait, it’s loudest right here…”

“Awe man, how’d he get in the fridge?”

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You ever really thought about the Pixar introduction. This lamp comes in, jumps on the i and beats it to death. It then slowly looks up at you almost like it’s thinking, ‘You’re next…’ and then the whole thing fades to black…

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MomMomMomMom…

Yes?

MomMomMomMom…

Yeeess?

MomMomMomMom…

Okay, what?

MomMomMomMom…

What?

MomMomMomMom…

Enough already, what do you want?

I is hungry, can we eat at Lobby’s?

!*!*!*!*!*!

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It’s not a phase mom, this is me now!

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Doing zombie shoots in the morning is perfect for Michael… oh wait, he doesn’t play a zombie role-then the afternoon would be better.

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Pi is infinite, which means it contains all possible number combinations, if said numbers were converted into letters and words it would contain every conversation you will ever have

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“I have a flamethrower… when one has fire, one must giggle.

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I don’t like it when my hair grows longer than I like.

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I don’t mind helping my friends little sister fight zombies. Most of the time it’s kinda fun, other times all I hear during the game is “Mike! Mike! Help me, I’m surrounded, help me Mike!”

“I’m coming, just keep shooting”

“Too late, I’m dead…”

The problem comes when she has a friend over and they’re both playing, then it’s total mayhem, “MIIIIIIKE, HEEELLP, THEY’RE GOING TO EAT US!!! MIKE! AAAAAAAAHHH. Oh no, we died,” followed by two little girls crying over the mic.

‘Sigh,’ At those times, I’m fighting three people worth of zombies with one person worth of weapons, how can you win something like that…

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What I hear when Michael’s xboxing on line with his friends: Most of it is private conversation laced with intense exclamations. I won’t repeat the conversations, but the exclamations thrown it are completely out of context and, in my opinion, quite humorous.

“Run, run, run, ruuuun…”

“Abort, abort…”

“Leave me alone…”

“I really don’t care…”

“Aaaaaahhhhh…”

“Three, four; get out; come on… gah…”

“Ah no, no – where, where…”

“NO, NO… AAAHHH, awe…”

“…I’m gonna rip your heart out!”

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I’ve been told that when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. I say, when life gives me lemons, I fill a baggie with dog doo, light it on fire in front of life’s door, ring the bell, and run!

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An example of the deterioration of language: I am going to… I’m going to… I’m gonna… I’ma

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Rules are a drag and safety is a nuisance. Recklessness is much more fun… until someone pokes their eye out.

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Did you know that ‘read’ rhymes with ‘lead’, just like ‘read’ rhymes with ‘lead’.

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One day, not so long ago, but long enough for me to talk of it, I was sent out of the classroom for disrupting. When I got outside I noticed a discarded box. It wasn’t a large box, but it was big enough, so I pulled a sharpie from my pocket and wrote on the side Michael’s time-out box, set it against the wall, and stood in it.

Moments later the school principal walked by, looked at me, looked at the box, looked at me, then tapped on the door and called my instructor out. My instructor came out; both my teacher and the principal looked at me, looked at the box, looked at each other and shook their heads.

I was told to go inside and take my seat. I could swear I heard them laughing as I closed the door, but to this day I can’t be sure; however, I was never sent out of the classroom again.

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A thing is only truly lost forever when your mom can’t find it.

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In case you’re wondering, Michael hasn’t been feeling his funniest. Until he feels better, his page will be lonely; but fear not, as soon as his humor is rejuvinated, we will begin posting again.

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I stopped calling the toilet the jon and started calling it the jim; it impresses people more when I get up in the morning, stretch and say, “I’m going to the jim.”

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Some people say that ‘the glass’ is half empty, some say it is half full; I say that it is 100% full with 50% water and 50% air.

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Coooolest commercial ever – or whatever it happens to be. Not sure it’s really a commercial, but it’s still cool.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rYnofiDw24Q

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