Fat

We were sitting by the computer, chilling as a family.

Jess referred me to a picture she was looking at of our family vacation to Southern California a few years ago. She told me, "Sean, check out this picture and look at how far you've come".

I pulled up the picture.

I must admit, it was a little weird to look at. Kinda made me sick to my stomach.

It got a little more awkward when Rylee wandered over to the monitor.

Rylee (all matter-of-fact): "Oh my gosh you're fat!"

Thanks Rylee.

The only Rylee moment more precious than that was when we were sitting in the chapel right after sacrament meeting a few years back. Rylee's primary teacher was about 9 months pregnant and talking with Jessica. As she walked away, Jessica was telling Rylee that her teacher was about to have a baby, and that she had a baby in her tummy.

Rylee promptly turned to me, pointed to my stomach, and asked, "When are you going to have your baby?"

Once again, Thanks Rylee.

The Karate Kid

One more brilliant move to bring me one step closer to earning the coveted "father of the year" award.

A few weeks ago we ran into the classic "Karate Kid" playing on cable. Brought back a lot of memories.

The classic family tale of Daniel Larusso forced by his mom to relocate across the country, moving into a neighborhood full of black belt bullies, mentored by Mr. Miyagi's unorthodox methods.

The kids started watching it with us near the end, right before Daniel's big tournament.

The anticipation of my favorite line, "Get him a body bag!!" kept me riveted on the show; and apparently clouded my judgement. Parental Guidance was suggested by the Motion Picture Association of America, so for some reason, I thought it was a good idea to allow the kids to watch the show with me.

After Johnny "swept the leg" it looked like all was lost. Three little faces in my living room were very concerned and very worried for Daniel. (I would have been to if I didn't know how it all ended.) Fortunately, though Japanese healing magic took care of the problem and Daniel Larusso returned to the mat to finish what he started. Honestly, who really saw that coming???

Fortunately for all of us, with the score tied 2-2, and only able to stand on one leg, Daniel-son used the move Mr. Miyagi taught him. The one where he stands on his one good leg, with arms extended outward, hands oddly pointed downward. Mr. Miyagi nods his approval. This was the move, Miyagi told him, if performed correctly, can't be defended against. Daniel-son capitalized on this opportunity. He rose up and kicked Johnny right in the face to win the match. Just like I remembered.

The girls were really impressed with that final move. They all wanted to try it. Tayler and Rylee turned it into more of a funky, semi-graceful dance move. Jayson tried it too.

It seemed like good quality family time--a great way to spend an evening as a family. We all basked in the joy of Daniel's victory over Johnny. We all practiced the final move. (Except Jess. Who seemed to think we were all idiots.)

Seemed like such a great idea at the time.

Until last night when I was sitting on the end of our sectional, minding my own business. Jayson came up and stood on the couch by me. Then he raised up and kicked me in the face. He was so excited. It was beautifully executed. Much better than when we practiced after the movie. He laughed and bragged, "Daddy, I kicked you in the face".

It was then that a strange thought crossed my mind. "Maybe the PG rating was there for a reason." Maybe smart parents don't let their two year old boys watch movies about karate, fighting, and violence. Hopefully Jayson will grow up to be more like Daniel-son instead of Johnny--in spite of his father's lack of judgement.

When you gotta go...you gotta go.

Interesting little ending to my Saturday workout.

After my spin class, I drove over to the running/bike trail that runs parallel to the Legacy Highway. I parked in Farmington and ran two miles before turning back towards the car. Since it was still relatively early and cold, I only saw about ten other people along the trail. I was probably about 200 yards from my car when I noticed a couple running towards me about 100 yards away. She was wearing pink and black and he was wearing all blue. Often times I have a tendency to run looking down at the path, rather than straight ahead, so I wondered where the girl disappeared to as I passed her husband who was now running alone. Hopefully I wasn't going to be the last eye witness to a spouse or girlfriend disappearance.

Fortunately, about twenty seconds later, I saw her.

Unfortunately, though, I saw most of her.

She was squatting, underwear and running pants around her ankles, about 10 feet off the trail; relieving herself, completely shielded from the sight of unsuspecting joggers by the 12 inch high weeds that line the trail. Her head was down, no doubt providing the re-assurance that if she couldn't see people running along the trail, nobody could see her.

She looked up as I passed.

All I could do was shake my head and smile.

She must've really had to go bad. She couldn't possibly have waited 20 more seconds for me to run past???

On a less revealing note...

My kids have a real problem interrupting Jess and I while we are on the phone. Saturday afternoon, while on the phone with my sister, Rylee had something soooo important to tell me. She interrupted me once.

Then she interrupted me a second time (thirty seconds later).

Both times I asked her to wait until I got off the phone.

On the third interruption, I covered up the phone and asked Rylee why she was interrupting me again after I had asked her a million times not to interrupt me while I was on the phone.

She looked at me blankly.

With no facial expression she responded, "Two times. You asked me two times. Not a million."

She gets that from her mother.

Maverick Day Spa

Last night on the way to the airport, we stopped off at Maverick to drop off a DVD at Redbox.
Did a double take when I saw a lady coming out of Maverick wearing a white terrycloth robe and slippers.
A guy was waiting for her in a car parked by mine.
I had to look.
He too was wearing a white terrycloth robe.
A very short, white terrycloth robe.

At first it seemed wierd.
Then I just had a hankerin' for a 64 oz Coke.
And a facial and massage.

My Two "Valentines"

Jess frequently hints at her dislike for some of my blog posts. I think it's because I don't chronicle the daily events in an online journal. So, with her out of town, I will provide a journal-type rundown of the weekend for her benefit.

Jess took Jackson and Rylee to her brother's house in Denver for their baby blessing. I settled in for a little Valentine's weekend fun with Tayler and Jayson.

Saturday we headed to Ogden to Fat Cats for pizza and bowling. This is our self-taken photo at the Pizza Factory.

This is Jayson at the bowling alley. He stood up with a foot on each of two swiveling bowling chairs, raised his hands, and yelled, "I a RockStar Dad!!!". Then he promptly fell off. The camera captured his descent.

Tayler patiently helped Jayson bowl every turn. Then they waited the 45 minutes for his ball to make it down the alley to the pins.

Tayler is pretty competitive. She didn't like that I was soundly beating her the entire game. The only fun part about Jess not being with us is that I got to win. My personal best. 151. Four strikes and two spares. (Three strikes in a row. TURKEY!!!)

Jayson cheered every single turn. Even his gutter balls.

Saturday we bought an ice cream maker and all the ingredients for homemade ice cream. Tayler wanted Strawberry--fittingly pink for valentines day.


Notice Jayson's little ice cream bowl, scooted a good two feet out into the middle of the island. Apparently, he's decided he doesn't like strawberry ice cream. Fortunately, I divided the ingredients so we can make a batch of something else that he might like better. Reeses Peanut butter cup. We'll see.

So far, so good Jess.

Translation: we are all still alive and well fed.

Coinciently, I have angled the camera so that we didn't capture much of the mess in the kitchen, dining room and living room. As usual, we are only cleaning up once this weekend (right before you get home). But don't stress, it will be clean (mostly) by the time we leave to get you at the airport tomorrow night. Well, let's be honest; the house will be "straightened up" before we come get you.

Code Pink

Hospital security is a good thing. I can't imagine anything worse than someone stealing a baby--or a hospital mix-up that sends the wrong baby home with the wrong parents. (With that said, an unfortunate mis-hap that might send Rylee home with another family, in exchange for a short brown-haired, brown eyed sweet, obedient little five-year-old girl, might actually be welcomed from time to time.) Fortunately, hospitals have implemented strict safety procedures which require matching of baby and parent id bracelets each time you want to "access" your newborn.


Thursday night I was able to have a romantic (when nurses weren't checking Jess' vitals) bedside dinner with Jessica, courtesy of Davis Hospital and our $700 per night rate (excluding insurance company liability). Over the course of our dinner, Jess decided she needed a bedside dinner with two men, so she asked me to go get Jackson (to be completely accurate though, at the time, he was still known as "the Baby").


I proceeded to the nursery, where I provided a blood and urine sample, a cheek swab, submitted to a retinal scan, and was then escorted through a series of security checkpoints, including an airport-like scanner, and a pat-down from a large male nursing assistant named Greg. Then they read the numbers on my bracelet, compared it with Jackson's, and then allowed me to take him to our room.


Somewhere on the way back to the room, I took a wrong turn. I think I went left, when I should've gone right. About thirty seconds later, I realized I had no idea where I was. Keep in mind, I wasn't in a ten-story trauma center, I was in a small community hospital in Layton, Utah. It shouldn't be that easy to get lost--especially when you start out about 200 feet from your deisred destination.


Somewhere, at this exact moment in Postpartum Room 210, Jessica received a phone call from the nursery. "Is your baby with you?"

Jess: "no. But my husband just went to go get him"
I think that explained it.


It was at the exact moment I realized I might be lost, that I also remembered something I was told in passing, the early that morning, following the baby's first bath at around 2 am. Something about an ankle bracelet that would set off alarms and lock down the elevators if you got too close to them. I think it was the "ding" of the elevator that reminded me of that little bit of info. Oops.


At that moment, Tricia RN, rounded the corner, at a full sprint, the serious look on her face relaxing in relief as she saw me sauntering towards her, pushing the plastic basinet-on-wheels, containing Baby-Boy-Dunroe.

Me: "Did I set off an alarm or something?"
Tricia RN: "You sure did"
Me: "Well, I work for a health insurance company you guys contract with and they sent me here to test out your newborn security procedures."
Tricia RN: Blank look. Not amused
Me: "You guys did OK, although I could've made it to the stairs if I wanted to"
Tricia RN: Still not amused "turn left at the end of the hall if you want to go back to your wife's room"


I thought it best if I kept this little misadventure to myself. I find it best to not load Jess' gun with ammo. It comes back to bite me at in-opportune times. I meandered into the room, like I hadn't just set off an alarm and locked down the elevators. I started off with some sort of small talk, but when I parted the fancy hospital curtain that provides the last line of patient privacy, I could tell by Jess' face that she had just been reassured that her husband was an idiot.

"So you set off those alarms huh?"
"yep".


As I got home that night, I was remembering my little "code pink" (baby abduction for those of you who don't watch Greys Anatomy). I pulled into the garage. Walked into the kitchen. Put the Yukon keys on their special hook--just in case Jessica were to come home suddenly, unexpectedly from the hospital, I had to make sure everything was in it's assigned location. I sat down on the couch, flipped on the TV, happy for a few quiet moments of reflection. Quiet? Oops. I forgot to pick up the kids. Sorry Grace! Thanks for watching them while I just take a little time to myself.


Guess I was a little tired. I'm sure it's hard going through labor in the middle of the night. But it can also be hard to sit around uselessly all night long in multiple hospital rooms answering hospital staff's superficial questions and trying hard just to do what you're told.

Male Bonding

Well, he came.

Baby Boy Dunroe #2. At 11:40'something pm on January 20th. 6 pounds, 8 ounces. 19 1/2 inches long.

I tested Jess' name of choice. "Luke"...

In my Darth Vader voice. (Complete with "audible labored breathing through a black mask" sound effect.)

"Luke...I am your father."

The little guy scrunched up his face, and gave what appeared to be his best "severed hand, clinging to an overhanging railing, Mark Hamill" impression and yelled, "Nooooooooooooo!"

It was a little creepy.

You remember the scene in The Empire Strikes Back. When millions of women across the country simultaneously decided Mark Hamill was more bizarre than cute.

It was just like that.

So the name "Luke" may be out.

Sorry Jess.

At any rate, here are some pictures.

And now for the male bonding....

At first it seems like he was just tired....Or hungry.

Then it seemed like he was just confused.

Tunrs out, he was hungry.

And confused.

Hopefully, someday we will bond eating hot dogs at LaVell Edwards Stadium.

And not with him latched onto his dad's chest.

Luke, I am not your father.

Turns out I'm your mother.