Friday, March 30, 2012

When Dinosaurs and Bears Attack!

Holy smokes have we had a busy week here at Dizzy Dad head quarters!

Let's see...where to begin?

Well, first off.  We spent the entire week camping, which is great, but I am ready for the tent to go away now.

It's just too dangerous!

No, the tent itself isn't dangerous, but since it's been up it seems like wild animals have been coming out of the wood work, scaring us.  

There's been dinosaurs, bears, strange dogs, kitty cats, raccoon, snakes and, we've even had a visit from a badger!  I am telling you.  That tent is bad luck...or good luck depending on how you look at it.

I call it bad luck because the boy and Mama Bear were, unfortunately, attacked by a dinosaur. I believe it was a stegosaurus of all things.

Luckily, Mama Bear was able to fight it off, but neither she nor Pizzly have been same since then.  I am starting to doubt that they will ever be.

It's really rather sad.

They were such happy little creatures.

As if the dinosaur attack wasn't enough, our tent was also over taken by a hungry bear.

Of course, Mama Bear, being the adventurous type, decided to provoke it.  

The result wasn't pretty.

It took hours to rearrange our campsite after we chased the little bear away.  I guess that's what we get for not zipping up the door when we left.  I guess we probably shouldn't have left food in the tent too, but who would have guessed that a bear would invade our camp site?

For that matter, how could we have possibly foreseen a stegosaurus attack either?

It gets weird around here I tell you what.


P.s.  When we weren't camping we were out and about meeting rock stars, stunt drivers, monster truck drivers, train conductors, and, of course, race car drivers.

What a week!

I'm ready for a nap!

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Wednesday's Weight...........GAIN!

This past week the boy and I have been working quite hard on continuing to whip me into shape.  We've been exercising everyday for at least 1/2 hour faithfully, I've been watching my food intake, so when I went to weigh myself this morning after "running" steps for half an hour I was fairly confident that I would see some good results.

Well, that didn't happen. **sniffle**

I actually gained weight since last week, about 1.5 pounds.  

Not too happy about that.

I mean I am not heart broken over it.  I am just a little disappointed in myself.

At first, I thought that something was wrong with the scale, so I weighed myself again. No difference.  Then I decided it must be because I was wearing different clothes, so I stripped down.  Again, no change.  

Oh well, so I gained 1.5 pounds and now weigh 289 even.  It could be worse.  I could have gained 20 pounds and be right back where I started.

See?  There's a bright side!

Also on a good note, I still feel relatively well, meaning my left side is still goofy, but it's not any worse than it was at the beginning of my quest to get fitter.  So, that's a plus too!  A major plus!

With my disease, it seems like no change = great!  

Well, that may not be fair.  It's just I have only had one change for the better over the last 22 years, and that was when my excellent neurologist came up with a medication combo that actually helped...A lot!  

Other than that, changes are usually for the worse.

So, when I tell you that I can still walk up and down the steps with out having to do the booty scootch, and I have only had one incident where lefty decided to call it quits on me, but even then the recovery was relatively quick, maybe half an hour, it is no insignificant thing.  

Not to me anyway.

So, all in all I think I am doing quite well despite the small weight gain this week.

Let's see what next week brings!

Monday, March 26, 2012

Maple Fest? You Sure it Wasn't a Model Train Fest?

This past weekend Mama Bear, Pizzly, and I decided to head out to the Maple Festival in Marathon, NY.  It was our first time and well worth the trip, even if the helicopter wasn't there.

At first, we weren't sure if the festival was going to be a big hit or not, but then this big yellow thing showed up.

After that, all our worries  subsided shifted because the little Pizzer was hooked...on the bus anyway. 


Then we became worried that we'd have to fight to get him off the thing.

However, that worry proved equally unfounded because there was so much going on outside of the bus that he didn't want to just stay on it, riding it back and forth to the parking lot all day.

Da's little train conductor
Once we got off we found that there was a Little Bit of everything happening; chainsaw carving, little kid plank racing, pony rides, music, food, but what Pizzly enjoyed the most was the model train exhibit.

Go Figure!

He even dressed the part.

I guess he heard ahead of time that there may be trains there to look at.

Not even the Hulk  could have dragged Pizzly away
from those trains
It was kind of odd actually in a cute way  

Yeah, I am well aware of Pizzly's love of trains, but come on! 

There was so much to see and do, but all the Pizzmeister cared about was those darn model trains.  

According to him, we didn't go to a Maple Festival, we went to a model train exhibit/festival.

He would have sat there and watched them all day if we would have let him.  

We couldn't even bribe him with food!

The Pizzmeister is fighting off sleep on his second bus
ride ever!
In the end, the only way we could get him away without him kicking and screaming was the promise of another bus ride back to the truckster. 

So, between the bus rides and the model trains, the trip out to the maple festival was well worth it, and we can't wait for next year so we can do it all over again!

Friday, March 23, 2012

It's Official. Pizzly's a Redneck!

If you grew up around rednecks, like me, then you know that they are a special breed of people.  They know how to have fun and are crazy enough to not recognize a bad idea when they see one.

I mean, rednecks are the only type of people that will use old junk cars as fencing material, and they are the only ones that will use an old school bus as a stable for their hogs or an old bread truck for a chicken coop.  From my experience, they're experts at re-purposing things and are quite inventive and imaginative.  

They'll also jack anything with wheels up and race it or jump it or basically do anything with it that the rest of the world would consider too asinine to even think about doing with it.

With this in mind, I think Pizzly is a redneck!  Which, I am cool with because the best people I know are rednecks, whether self-identified as such or not, but I would rather that the boy not hurt himself doing something crazy.

Unfortunately, I think that train has already left the station.  

The boy is already doing crazy stuff.

Photo from monsterjam.com 
I would like to blame this on his recent infatuation with Monster Jam, which is like watching the vehicular version of professional wrestling, but that would be wrong because, truthfully, he has been doing crazy stuff for a while now.  

This trend started way before he even knew monster trucks existed.

I mean, he's been pulling wheelies on his tricycle and jumping it and racing around on his Pooh Train, like he was some sort of drifting maniac, for months now.  

Monster trucks were just discovered last week when I foolishly pointed them out to him.

So, I cannot hardly blame the monster trucks for my son's crazy antics, like when he jumped his pooh train over a threshold with a six inch drop and flipped it over on himself this morning.  

What was disconcerting about that was the fact that he made sure to check his train to see if it was alright before he started crying because he smacked his head on the floor.

Obviously, the train was what was most important in that instance and not his bruised head.

Well, since I can't really blame the monster trucks for being a poor influence, the only conclusion I can make to explain Pizzly's nuttiness is that he's a redneck.

That's cool.

I can so get behind that.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Weight Loss Wednesday!

I learned something very important yesterday.  

I can no longer keep up with the boy!

It's funny how a 2 year old can keep going and going and going while I am ready for a nap after a half hour.  I swear this little monster never needs to rest.  

That's why he makes such a great exercise partner!

Yesterday, we were pretend hula hooping on the Wii.  He loved it!  Truthfully, I thought it was fun too, but man I didn't realize how sore you could get just from hula hooping, even if you are only pretending to hula hoop.

And, to think that I used to smirk at the idea of a hula hoop being a work out.  My tune has definitely changed now.  I mean my quads are sore, my butt's sore, and my tummy feels like I got ran over by a truck.  

So, I am either doing it wrong, or hula hoops really are an amazing workout tool and way harder than doing the steps that I have been doing for the past three weeks.  

Although, they were pretty hard too when I first started.

Anyway, with that said, here's an update.

3 weeks ago: 304.3 lbs (ouch!)
today:           287.6 lbs (still ouch, but at least moving in the right direction)

What am I doing?

I stole an exercise plan from one of my bestest friends called "Move Your Ass and Stop Eating so Damn Much!"  

It seems to be working so far.  

All I do is make sure that I do at least 1/2 hour of cardio exercise a day, which for me means either jogging in place or doing steps.  Both get kind of tricky because of my disease, so I usually have something to hold on to close by, but at least I am moving. (After yesterday, I am thinking about incorporating the hula hoop too)

As far as food goes, I pretty much eat whatever I used to just not as much of it.  For instance: Instead of 3 eggs for breakfast with toast and cheese and hot sauce, I'll have two eggs with hot sauce but no toast or cheese.  Of course, there is always an ample amount of coffee to go along with it, but that hardly matters.

To be honest, I found the food thing to be a little more difficult than the exercise because I don't like to be hungry.  But, after a day or two, I realized I really wasn't hungry.  I was just piling too much food on my plate habitually.  

So, I started using smaller plates, and stopped pig piling it on there.  Works for me.  I'm not hungry at all, and there is no sense eating more than I need to right?

That's it.  That's all I am doing, and so far I am losing weight, and I am pretty proud of myself.  I just hope I can keep it up.

Monday, March 19, 2012

14 Steps To Fix My Laptop

So, on Friday I realized just how technologically un-advanced I really am, and boy was it embarrassing!  

I even had to speak with a snotty tech guy in India named Frank whose accent was so thick I had to ask him to e-mail me the response and what I was to do.  I really felt awful asking him to do that, but, hey, I needed answers before I flipped my poop.

Here's what happened.

I somehow magically managed to lock the smart pad and keyboard on the new laptop.  I couldn't do anything with it at all, and, boy, was it frustrating the hell out of me.

Naturally, since I didn't realize that it was something that I had done by accident, I thought that the computer was malfunctioning.  Of course, when you try to reach tech services it is all on the net and they offer no phone numbers, and the reason they don't offer a phone number is because when you call them there is a very real possibility that they won't be able to speak your language.  

After all, these computers are sold all around the world.

Anyway, after monkeying about for a few hours I finally was fed up.  I was on an online chat forum with some tech guy who wouldn't help me because he didn't recognize the serial number that came with the laptop, but he was nice enough to give me a phone number to call.

I called it.

Frank answered and was talking about "callshoops," and who I was "wanting" to win.  It took me awhile, but I figured out that he was talking about basketball, which I have no interest in, so I told him Syracuse was going to win.  

He agreed.

So, after exchanging the pleasantries, I explained what the problem was.  His response was rather long, and very hard to follow, and, honestly, I only understood about 1 word in every three.  

But, I was reassured when Frank said that the computer wasn't broken and it was simple to get the keyboard and smart pad back up and operational.

Unfortunately, the simple remedy to my problem wasn't all that simple to understand.  What made it so hard for me was the fact that the guy explaining it to me was using technical jargon, which I don't understand to begin with, and he was using this type of speech in a heavy accent.  

So, I asked him if he could e-mail me the procedure, and I covered this up my saying it seemed to be kind of lengthy and I didn't want to miss any steps and have to call him back.  

Frank thought that was a great idea.  Must be he was tired of explaining simple things to me. 

What I got in my inbox was a series of steps, which seem a bit absurd and don't seem to be what he was telling me at all on the phone, but I followed them and now the computer is working, so who cares?

1.) Turn off computer.
2.) Unplug computer
3.) place computer bottom side  up
4.) locate battery
5.) remove battery
6.) replace laptop in upright position while battery is out
7.) hold power button down while tapping four corners of smart pad
8.) return laptop upside down
9.) replace battery
10.) replace computer right side up
11.) turn on computer
12.) hold down ctrl, fn, and f6 keys simultaneously for 3 seconds
13.) hold fn key while tapping four corners of smart pad
14.) Press and hold fn key and f6 key for 2 seconds
15.) release keys and resume using your computer

Holy cow!  Was all this necessary, or was Frank screwing with me?

I bet he was just screwing with me, but at least I can use the laptop again, so I am alright with it if he was.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

The Dreaded Dietitian!

So, yesterday I had to go and see a dietitian as per doctors orders.  Let's just say I wasn't too happy about it.

I was fully expecting to show and and be confronted with some skinny minny who has never had weight problems much less a genetic disorder telling me how fat I am and that I need to eat less, especially junk food, before he/she even bothers to ask me what it is and how much of it I am eating. 

However, what I wasn't prepared for was a not at all too skinny woman telling me that it isn't about weight, which is just a number, it is about health and quality of life.   If you're happy and healthy and feel good then who cares how heavy you are.

My sentiments exactly!

Then, this ultra cool lady told me that what I was doing was alright, but it would be better if I broke each meal into two, so instead of three meals a day I would have six snacks a day.  I guess that is meant to jump start my sluggish metabolism, but I am not sure how feasible that is, being that I chase a crazy two year old all day.

But, I'll try it.  I'll also try to eat more beans, which is already a staple in our diet.  

Anyway, other than that she didn't have anything new to tell me, but it was worth seeing her just the same.  If not for the advice then for my comeuppins.  I shouldn't have judged this poor woman before I even met her.

It was wrong!

I felt so bad about that that by the time we ended our meeting I apologized to her for thinking poorly of her before I showed up and she said, "I totally get that.  No one want's to be told they are fat, and I am the dreaded dietitian!  The one that is supposed to tell you everything you are doing wrong.  Of course, I am not going to be popular."

Well, regardless of whether or not any one else likes her, I do.  And, I'll remember this meeting with her every time I am bit leery of going someplace new or meeting someone new. 

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

My Cute Little Demon Spawn!

I am not sure if I have ever said this before, but I am pretty sure Pizzly is pure evil.  I am not kidding you.  This kid's a holy terror!  It is like the devil himself spawned him.

I fully blame my wife and her side of the family for this because I can sarcastically say that me and my side of the family have always been perfect angels.

Yeah..that's right!  Perfect in every way...Angels!

Therefore, whenever the boy does anything bad, like set up booby traps for me to walk into or ambushes me, tries to maim me in general, or goes all Evil Knievel and jumps his tricycle off of the couch, it is Mama bear's fault.  He didn't get that crap from me!

...maybe not anyway.   I guess it could be possible, but I doubt it!

Anyway, my little demon spawn's latest trick is to innocently call out for me then...WHAM! 

He runs into me with his blasted "Pooh Pooh" train.  And, boy, does that hurt like hell, but who can yell at a two year old that is giggling like a maniac?!

Oh by the way, "Pooh Pooh" train is toddler slang for the "Winnie the Pooh" ride on toy train that it seems like all little ones have these days.

Anyway, you'd think that a grown man of 30 years old would have seen that coming.  

Well, I didn't the first time.  

Yes, I did say first time because the little Pizzmeister got me again a few more times with that evil "Pooh Pooh" train.

The first time was when he called me over to him all sweet and innocent and then he came barreling out of some hidden corner, like hog at feeding time.  Then for the second attack he managed to trick me into laying down on the floor with him and closing my eyes.  I thought we were having an impromptu nap time.  Boy was I wrong!

Yep...as soon as these baby blues were shut there was a train in my face with a baby on it laughing so hard he crapped his drawers.

It was messy too!

Then the last time he got me, which to be honest I knew it was coming because, hey, even I am not that stupid, was some elaborate train track robbery or race scheme that he came up with.

You see, he was a battery powered ride on train that came with track and everything that we got him for Christmas.  He doesn't usually ride it at all because he's to be a little timid of it.

Therefore, I was a little suspicious when he demanded that I put the tracks up and put the train on them so he could ride around.  Before too long, Pizzly decided that there was something in the wheels and was determined that I had to clean them so he could go faster.  

So, while I was cleaning the wheels I noticed didn't notice that the boy was sneaking behind me.  Then he hopped on his "Pooh Pooh" train and not only ran into my butt, but he picked the whole thing up and drove it over my bottom, and he did all this while giggling like a fiend.

Now, all I can say is "It's a good thing he's so cute!"


Monday, March 12, 2012

With or At?

Lately, I have been noticing a strange occurrence...Just about every time I walk into a room, Pizzly will start to giggle.

Now, is he laughing with me or at me?

At first, I chalked this mad giggling up to him being happy to see me, but, now, I don't know what to think!  

It has been going on for just too long!

I am either wicked hilarious, or a complete doofus in his eyes.  My money is on the latter because my stand up routine was spotty at best, so I know I am not that funny.  


Yeah, I got laughs, but not LAUGHS!  

That's ok!  I know when to quit.

Anyway, the fact that my two year old thinks I am a joke is slightly bothersome, and I am totally not ready for it.  I mean I was thinking that this wouldn't happen until he was at least 8.  You know, that "tween" period of life.

Uhhh!!!  I shudder at the thought.  Not at that particular period of life.  It's the word that make me shudder!  I don't know why, but there is just something about the word "tween" that makes me cringe in disgust.  


The way I see it is you're either a teenager or you're not.  None of this "tween" bullcrap!

Well, that doesn't matter, but what does is that I thought I had another 6 years of being cool and funny.  After that, I was fully prepared to be a joke for the rest of my life.

I mean, after all, isn't that what being a teenager is all about; thinking your parents are goofy and slow in the head? 

Didn't we all think that we were sooooooooooo much smarter than our parents, and then we became parents ourselves?

Then what happened?

We found out that good ole' mom and dad weren't so stupid after all right? 


It will be nice to have someone think I am smart for a change.  I just hope I can pull it off!

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Responding to Some E-mails

Since I started doing this blog thing I have received a few e-mails, negative ones; the only type I get it seems.  Now, I am not sure if these messages are from trolls trying to get me riled up or not, but I strongly suspect that to be the case  because nobody can be as asinine as my "trolls" in real life.

But, what internet troll takes the time to look up someone's e-mail address to send them negative e-mails? Wouldn't they just leave their comments on the page?

So, now I am having second thoughts.  Maybe there are people out there that believe what they write to me in e-mail.

This makes me I feel bad because I've yet to respond to the bad e-mails.  That isn't nice of me!

How to make up for this slight?

...I know.  I'll post w bit of some of them here and respond to them for every one to see.  Of course, I'll edit the longer rantier ones and I won't give out names or addresses, but I am sure that if these people are still reading my blog they will know who they are.


E-mailer: How dare you give your child a name like "Pizzly!"  What were you thinking?! Do you KNOW what it is even? I can't stand you people that give there kids "unique" names.

Me: Whoa! Hold on there Little Miss Contrary.  Although I am glad that you feel like you have to step in and bully me about our name choice for the little man, but before your knickers get too knotted up I have to tell you that Pizzly is just his nickname.  He got it because he's a hairy little mite, and, yes, I do know what a pizzly bear is.  It's a mix of a polar bear and a grizzly bear. 

Next.


E-mailer: I feel so bad for you little boy.  You sound like an appalling man that doesn't love his kids.  You have no business being a father!  You don't even know your little boy's name.  You just refer to him as "The Boy" all the time....(This was a longer rant that went into me being a bad christian, which I am I guess because I'm not a christian.  Oh...and I am everything that's wrong with modern society too.)

Me:  Wow!  Really?!  Everything that's wrong with society?

 I actually don't know how to respond to this.  I can't stop giggling!  This has to be from a troll. No one is this crazy.


E-mailer:  don't you know how dangerous it is to co-sleep?  Are you actually trying to kill your baby? (I edited this one because she had some information about co-sleeping causing SIDS that was probably from the 80's, and I deleted this one about 3 months ago so I can't recall the exact wording.)

Me:  Yeah, co-sleeping is soooooooooo dangerous!  It is just a matter of time before I roll over and crush my TODDLER in my sleep.  Or do you mean that it is dangerous for the parents?  That I agree with.  I can't tell you how many morning I have woken up with a foot in my eye, throat, stomach, or with a baby draped across my face ironically smothering me.


Here comes my all time favorite e-mail.  It was originally a 1000 plus word rant that I won't make you sit through and read.  Here's the gist.


E-mailer: Mr. Dizzy "Dad,"

I have read a few of your blog entries and I have to tell you that I am very disappointed.  Why do you insist on demeaning all of the work that we as stay at home moms do?

You make being a stay at home parent sound like it is all fun and games and not work, and I find that frankly to be insulting to us women who have stayed at home with our children for years.  We have fought and continue to fight for recognition and the acknowledgement that we deserve, and we don't need  you, a stay at home father, telling everyone how easy it is to be a stay at home parent, which simply isn't true....(the rest either was a repeat of what she already said or her telling me to think about how I could help the cause rather than hurt it. For instance, I could complain about how hard it is more, I could repeatedly say that this is the hardest job I ever had, or I could say that I couldn't hack it as a real stay at home parent and just wait for mama to come home so she can do everything.  Then she signs as...)

A mother of 6 who home schools that seriously hopes you will reconsider,

(Crazy lady)

Me:  What do you hope I will reconsider?  What I write?  Enjoying my time as a stay at home dad with my kids?  What exactly should I reconsider? And, I don't ever recall saying that being a stay at home dad was easy.

As for insulting stay at home moms.  I apologize if that is true.  I didn't realize that writing about my time as a dad who watches his child could possibly be construed as an insult to stay at home moms.  If I make it sound easy it is because it kind of is for me.  

Yeah, the house is always trashed, and there are always toys scattered about, and, no, I can never keep up with the house chores, but that doesn't really matter.  What matters to me more than having a clean house is the fact that I get to spend time with my child during his most formative years.

So, in that respect, being a stay at home dad is easy.  What's easier or more enjoyable than spending time with your kids?  The house being cluttered is small potatoes.  Who cares?  I am not going to ignore my kid over it, especially when I am not 100% positive that I will always be able to play with him the way I want to.

Again, I apologize if I write things that insult stay at home moms.  I certainly never intended for anything I say to be thought of like that.  

Though, with that said, I am never going to say that being a stay at homer is tedious or a chore, and it certainly isn't a job to me.  That doesn't mean that the work a stay at home parent does has no value.  Au contraire.  It has more merit and value to me than any form of employment ever has.  This is my kid I am talking about of course what I do with him has value.  It just isn't a job or tedious to me, and I would never say such a thing.  I find those implications insulting.  I chose to have my family.  I chose to be a daddy, and I refuse to think of raising my kids as a job because I'm a parent not an employee.

A father of one with one on the way who vows that no matter what, his children will never be a chore to him, 

Just a Dizzy Dad

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Hell kitty!!!

 For the last few weeks the boy has had a recurring role in our living room saga as a cat with multiple personalities.

Sometimes, he's a good little kitty who is snuggly and helpful, and sometimes he's a naughty little kitty who rains down brutal terror from the sky.

Today, he is terror kitty from hell!

That means pain for me...lots of pain!  Pain in the head.  Pain the stomach.  The legs.  The ass.  Just pain everywhere!

When the boy is playing as hell kitty, he insists on climbing all over me and jumping on me and screeching his meows in my face.  Basically, he just beats the crap out of me the whole time.

Normally, all this might be cute and endearing because it's fleeting.  I mean, he can't be hell kitty all the time.  He's got to be a nice kitty at least once in awhile...Well, that's what I so wrongly assumed before this morning anyway.

Apparently, Pizzly has more than enough stamina to keep his bad kitty act going all morning or maybe even day.  I tell you.  The boy's got determination!

He's scrambled around on all fours for hours, and he would still be at it except for the fact that he fell asleep just a few minutes ago, following a massive kitty cat tantrum.

I guess I made hell kitty angry by telling him that if he wanted a drink of water he had to use a glass and not the dog/cat water bowl, which is disgusting.  

Of course, that resulted in hell kitty chasing me down, tripping me up (just like our real cat, the stupid, worthless one, has done before), and then pummeling me while screaming at the top of his lungs.

Luckily, he conked out pretty quickly.  

Otherwise, hell kitty might have driven me insane.

Monday, March 5, 2012

Goodbye Workhorse...Hello Fancy!

Well, the boy and I have been busy exercising all morning, and by exercise, I mean playing tag and dodge block ball, which is a seriously awesome way to start out the week.

Now, that all the excitement is coming to a close for a few minutes since the Pizzmeister is passed out, I can jot down a few words on the old blog here using my nifty spanking new laptop!

Yeah, that's Right.  Daddy's got a new toy! (But, like the old laptop this one has grimy kid prints all over the screen already too)

Since, I am such an awesome guy, and the old work horse, a toshiba, decided that it didn't like the life that it was living any longer and finally called it quits on us, Mama Bear decided that it might be time to get a new lap top for me to use.  

You know, us bloggers can only use the finest of machines.  I couldn't possibly be expected to use the ancient e-machines desktop to write with.

So, we ended up getting a super rockin' Gateway!

I'll miss the old work horse though.  We had some good memories together.  That poor old thing!  just thinking about it brings a tear to my eyes...

Anyway, after I the new lap top came to live with us I quickly realized something.  

There is a serious lacking in my technological knowledge department!  

For instance, what the hell is Windows 7?!  And, When did XP head down the road?!

Man!  You mean I have to relearn how to use a new operating system?  I was just getting comfortable with the old one and feeling all smug because I finally figured out how to use Skype!  

Bummer!

Well, since the newfangled gadget has all sorts of bells and whistles, I think I am going to go ahead and try exploring it a bit while the boy is sleeping.

Friday, March 2, 2012

A Dietician? Really?!

Well, guess who is going to go and see a dietician on the 14th.

This guy!

Great...I am already self-conscious enough.  I don't need another skinny-minny telling me that I am a great big fatty and that I eat too much.  To which I am going to reply, " Really?!  You don't say!"

You know it's not like I am purposely trying to be a big fatty.  I just lose interest in getting fitter and thinner.  It's just easier to eat when you feel peckish, and it is more fun for me to play with the boy than it is to have a strict exercise schedule.


Once, you make exercise a mandatory part of your day it becomes tedious.  Well, it does for me anyway.

But, that has to change I guess.


Now, I am going to try and take it more seriously because my Neurologist said something to me that I constantly worry about anyway.

"You want to be able to play with your kids don't you?"  Well, she said more than that, but that doesn't matter.  This is what stuck in my brain because the seed has already been planted a long time ago, and I was the gardener.

Of course I want to be able to play with my kids, but there is more to it then me simply exercising and not eating.  I could be a 160 pounds, like I am told I am supposed to weigh, and exercise every day, and I would still feel weak because the fact of the matter is; I am sick, and I am never going to get better.

That's a hard pill for me to swallow, but it's also the truth I have to live with.

Right around the time when the Pizzmeister was born I decided that I could stave off this being weaker thing with exercise.  I honestly tried, and yeah I lost weight while I was at it; not much, but it was something. 

But, no matter how much I exercised I still felt weak, and if anything I felt worse than before, so I gave it up only to try again a few months ago, maybe six, and failed once more.

The cold hard truth is that it made me feel worse than ever, and not because I was sore or fatigued from it. 


I have a genetic disease.

My legs twitched uncontrollably, my hands and arms twitched and shook so I could barely hold a pencil let alone write with it, and I was afraid terrified that if I kept it up I really wouldn't be able to play with my son let alone watch him and take care of him.

My wife likes to claim that I pushed myself too hard, but to be honest with you I can't tell if that's true or not.  

I feel so weak most of the time anyway that I can't tell if I am getting too fatigued until it is too late, and I can't tell when my disease is going to take over because it is episodic and arbitrary.


One day I can ride my pathetic little excersize bike for half an hour with no problems, and the next day after five minutes my twitches act up so much that I can't get my left leg to do what what I want anymore or I get dizzy or confused and generally uncoordinated.

Yeah, once that happens I am pretty much useless.  I'm on my bum sliding down the stairs because for the life of me I can't get keep it together long enough to safely get down the stairs.  


How am I supposed to take care of the boy like that?

That answer is simple.

Anyway, since I gave up any excersize "regiment" that I had I have been feeling relatively great, but I have also gained a crap load of weight, and the neuro said I have to be mindful that I don't get too weak, which is extra heart breaking since I feel so strong and good in comparison to how I've felt in the past. 

I mean just the other day Pizzly and I took a 4 mile hike, of which I carried him for 2 miles, and I felt fine.  No problems whatsoever, but apparently that doesn't mean anything. 

Apparently, I can't rely on an active lifestyle to keep me strong enough to keep me on my feet.

Bummer!

She suggested using my bike 2 minutes a day for a week and then upping it 2 more minutes a day for the next week and so on and strength training is out of the question.

Yeah...the bike thing is not going to happen; not because I am lazy, but because, truthfully, I am afraid, and that is really hard for me to admit because I love it too.

Cycling used to be one of my favorite past times.  Then, I started getting sicker.  My balance was off, my coordination got poorer, and to top it all off I never knew when enough was enough or if that mattered at all because I can't tell when my legs are tired, and I certainly can't tell you when my twitches and tremors are going to come and go or when my disease is going to act up.


Like I said.  It's all so gaddamn arbitrary!

It just happens when it happens, and I have no say over it at all.

So, biking, whether stationary or not, is out of the question, but I didn't tell her this.  I don't know why I didn't.  Maybe because I felt like my manliness was at stake or maybe I am tired of facing up to how limited I am physically or something.


It doesn't matter.

Anyway, now I am trying something different.  The Wii fit Plus, which really isn't like excersizing at all but more like playing a video game with the boy.

We'll see how it goes.  If I get sick at least I'll be down stairs where everything is.  That's a major plus. 


If playing with the Wii Fit Plus doesn't work I think my next thing to try is swimming or dreadful water aerobics! 

Yuck!

Maybe this dietician will actually help.  Well, they can only help if I keep an open mind about it right?

I won't promise to try, but I will try to try.





Thursday, March 1, 2012

Poop of Rage!

So, the boy and Mama Bear are sick, which means nothing good will happen, and I have to watch my step because if I start acting too cheery I may wake up dead.

Mama Bear I am not too worried about.  She's all sound a fury, but the boy on the other hand...he's a stone cold killah!

Apparently, this morning I looked a bit too happy.  He didn't like that one bit, and before I knew it there were random toys flying at me with an angry screaming toddler behind them.

Normally, I would reprimand him for such behavior, but it was just too cute. 

The only way to explain it would be to say it was like waking poking a sleeping bear with a stick, but in this case the bear was a sleepy, sicky 2 year old.  He came at me with the thundah!

I thought I was a goner, but, luckily, the Pizzmeister got distracted by the cat, who took the brunt of the little man's fury.

Poor cat!

Never really does anything, but the mere site of him incites a rage in the boy for some reason.

Anyway, I couldn't let the boy mistreat the poor cat like that, so I had to put an end to it no matter how cute it was.  

Yes, this ended in a serious crying, pooping, tantrum, which ended up in a bath.

Fun stuff. 



Update:  From the time I started this post 10 minutes ago to now, the boy has decided to fall asleep on the couch with his butt up in the air.  So cute!  I'd take a picture, but I am afraid it will wake him, and I don't want that to happen.  I really don't want that to happen. We've already had one poop of rage today!  Let's not try for two.