Father's Day is better than my birthday

I didn't have big expectations for Father's Day.  I'm not huge into holidays, especially not ones in my honor.  I'm not embarrassed or anything, I just have always thought if you wanted to tell someone they're special, don't wait for a holiday.
Well, that philosophy is dead.  I want more holidays, just like this, in my honor.  My wife went out of her way to be spectacular today.  The day started out with me mowing the yard...OK, that part was my own doing.  It's hot out.  I'm not mowing the yard in the evening...but after that we went to The Westside Local for brunch.  Hadn't ever been there, but that place has what it takes to displace Potpie's as my favorite restaurant.  One of the things we ordered was 'French Butter' for the Waffle.  It came with butter already, but they offered a whole separate butter on the menu.  Don't know what makes the butter 'French' but when we ran out of waffle to eat with the butter, we just ate the butter. 

Biscuits and Gravy, Frittata, Hash, Waffle, and French Butter.  

We then went to Shawnee Mission Park.  Megan's intent was to Frisbee Golf there, but it was pretty freaking hot, and Milo's putt is pretty terrible, so we went down by the lake and lounged under that tree on the right instead.

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We spent a couple hours watching sailboats go by.  (Milo if you're reading this, which you're not because you can't read, we're totally going on one of those sailboats a few Father's Day's from now).

Finally, we got home and Megan had not only made a delicious lemon cream pie, but written a lovely blog post.  Thanks for the whole day.  If I'd know Father's Day would be so sweet, I would have had Milo years ago.

Saturday Project

Early Saturday morning I was making my usual rounds when I came upon a damsel in distress.  My wife and her friends are having a garage sale in a week, and my wife was starting to freak out about our garage.  It isn't particularly messy as far as garages go, but it does have its share of the nefarious Garage Clutter, sure to ruin any planned garage sale. 
Damsel, have no fear, your newest favorite superhero is here.
Using only my arsenal of tools, credit cards, and three trips to Home Depot, I emerged the victor over the nefarious Garage Clutter.  I took an oath never to kill in the pursuit of justice, but that oath was broken this weekend.  Garage Clutter is no more.  In its place are four 12 foot shelves.

Yes, those are his and hers Roller Blades.  I keep them just in case I come across a time machine in my adventures and have to travel back to 1992.

You can't resist it (it's electric)

In the era BCM (before the common Milo), I spent a fair amount of my time dancing and/or singing while doing otherwise ordinary household tasks.  Dishes, flossing, making the bed (I kid, I kid.  I don't make the bed), all made better by spontaneously bursting into song. 
So it came as no surprise to me that when I needed to entertain a small and adorable child, I would do so by singing and

1. Dancing for him
2. Making his body dance for him
3. Both

My wife has now caught several of these on tape.  Check out her Vimeo page for future 'So You Think You Can Dance' all-star Milo 'Moves' Langford.  You'll see him dance the Macarena, sing Ben Fold's Five's Underground, and wonder what it's like out of these...waters.  But all of this is just the tip of my future child/actor's talents.  He's tap danced to Happy Feet (the Kermit the Frog version, nothing to do with that wretched penguin movie).  He can already sing the solo's to Bohemian Rhapsody.  And the kid works hard.  Here he is practicing in his sleep.

This kids electric, boogie woogie woogie

Talent scouts, eat your heart out.

...

Gathering future material to someday embarrass my kid...Check.

Come and get it

Don't be ridiculous Daddy.  You don't eat ribs with a fork

All by myself, don't want to be, all by myself

All the single ladies, all the single ladies, I have no idea how you do this.
Twice a week my lovely wife goes to work out while I stay home and put Milo to sleep.  This isn't even an all day engagement.  I get home at 5:30.  We eat dinner.  Megan's gone by 7:15.
On Monday's I give Milo a bath before we start the bed-time ritual.  Last bath time my talented little boy's pee actually hurtled the edge of the tub and nailed my ankle.  Guy's got aim. 
After bath time, I change him, I read him a book, I feed him a bottle (I didn't even have to pump) and then I put him to sleep.  This process is supposed to be done by about 8:20.  Last Monday the process ended at 9:10, just after Moms got home. 

My hat is old, I have a baby I like to hold 

Either way, after all that, it's time to repeat the process on me.  I'm tired.

Babies are people too...morning people

I set my alarm for 6:25, but as of late that alarm has been unnecessary.  Milo has been ready to hit the mat and start working out around 6.  I make breakfast - high protein meat mush for the cats, cereal for me, while Milo warms up with tummy-time.  Then I get on the floor next to him and stretch my glutes while eating.  Sometimes he sticks with the floor exercises, swapping between superman-style tummy-time and forming a human letter A.  Sometimes he tires of the floor and wants to do some squats, so I spot him while he puts in a few reps.  It all takes about 15 minutes, a little short for my taste, but I've got work and he's got a big morning planned.  He will either go back to sleep (if Mommy's lucky) or go wake Mommy up (more likely).

 Actual image of Mommy getting lucky after a morning workout

Morning is Milo's favorite time of the day as far as I can tell.  He'll tolerate tummy-time for the longest, and even when he's ready to flip over, he doesn't hold a grudge like he does when I'm home from work in the evening.  It's a little tough to play so early, but playing with him is better than watching Chelsea Lately or The Daily Show like I did before Milo.