Niko

People sometimes call Niko "Eric Jr.", and when I look at him I do see myself as a kid.  He (usually) wakes up so happy, and says things like "The world is full of fun!" or something silly and happy that makes me smile.

This weekend up in Maine he went through the wringer.  First he had a little bloody nose, which really doesn't faze him anymore, and doesn't usually require any parental intervention.  Then the kids all came running out to the deck saying he had blood on his face, which we immediately thought was a reprise of the bloody nose.  Then he walked out on the deck and looked like something from an old fashioned pro wrestling match.  Blood was POURING down his face and it turns out while they were in the tent in the girls room, Nicholas Duarte hit him in the forehead with a MagLite.  One butterfly bandage later, he has a matching Harry Potter scar to the one he got from the bed when he was younger.  Mosquitoes love him and he ends up looking like a pincushion with all his bites.  Then as the kids are tromping around in the woods, he comes out and says "Daddy I got a scratch", which is about 7 inches long and bleeding.  Of course I forget this when I sunscreen hm up at the lake later, and he starts screaming like a banshee (how do they scream, anyway?)

Anyway, I remember when I was little and I would hold my Dad's hand or how he would muss up my hair and call me 'Babuchka" or "Tiger", and being with Niko at this stage of his life really takes me back to that time of my childhood.

...and he starts July with a bang too

...walks into gymnastics (late) and the instructors are on the floor stretching with the kids.  he is moving slowly, waving his hands and arms like Karate Kid.

"These are my lethal weapons"

And we're pretty sure if Gunnar comes back as a rooster, he'd look like this

Gunnar Man June 2010

I'm driving the triplets to "gymnastics" camp (which is actually a bunch of kids running around bopping each other with foam toys), and Gunnar is asking about houses and mansions.

"Is Housey (our old house) a mansion?"
 
"No.  Housey is a house."

"Is the Big Blue House (our new house) a mansion? It's big like a mansion."

"No.  Big Blue House is big, but it's not a mansion." (unless mansions are extremely messy, I could have added).

"I want to lay in my pool at my mansion with my Ninja-trainer-agent and count my money."

Uh huh.  that's the Gunnar man for you.

From the archives.... December 2005

(My post to Father’s Forum back in December 2005- found it on the computer and decided I would share!)

 

Of course posting this here doesn't get sympathy, just a few understanding nods, but here goes...

In September I went under the knife for a double discectomy/fusion, which left DW struggling with the three trips (at 8 months getting very heavy, btw) and 2.5 y/o DD (now in her full blown 'cuteness to little devil in 1.2 seconds' mode)... We have a dog skunking thrown in for good measure, and I am quite sure by the smell that this skunk had either just defecated or was near death.  As I near recovery, DD has her 3rd febrile seizure.   Thankfully this didn't faze the new Mother's Helper, who responded cooly, "just go take care of her, I'll be fine" home with the trips by herself.  Crissakes we don't even do that to people we LIKE!   We respond by getting serious about the seizure thing, getting her right into Children's Hospital for a three day stay (which of course leaves DW in there too, and me commuting between Superdad mode - not quite recovered yet, mind you - and running into the hospital)...turns out after X-Rays,  CAT scans, EEG's, MRI's etc., DD is fine...Mother's Helper is still getting electroshock therapy.

Last week we go to a XMAS cookie party (where about 30 toddlers take turns putting their fingers in frosting, on cookies, on themselves, etc.) and I come home and get the serious sh*ts.  DD... the next day...of course she isn't potty trained yet and this stuff just pours right through the diapers seams, down her leg, staining her sox and leaving her standing in a brown puddle..."POOP EMERGENCY!" DW yells, as the Xmas tree, still missing a FF ornament from last years "exchange", comes crashing to the floor.   Well that got cleaned up (the brown mess, too) and we go to sleep.

later, I wake up covered in hives and drive myself to the emergency room...seems like I walk in the hospital now and they say "Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening, Mr Lutz...what can we do for you today...?"   Between the trips, my surgery, and DD's visits, we've had to amass a quarter of a mill in medical expenses this year.  Hives went away the next day.  Vasectomy is next week.

Through all this I can honestly say it's been the best year if my life... (of course the Pats and Sox winning didn't hurt)...Merry XMas to all and to all a good night!

(Editor's footnote: still haven't had that vasectomy!)