bella likes books. she will often sit around the house or on the front porch with her head in one of the books out of the family library. obviously she can't read yet but watching her you wouldn't know this given the way she moves her finger along the lines of text and how she turns the pages in appropriate measures. many a passerby has stopped while bella is sitting on the stoop with a hefty tome in her lap and me mowing the lawn to ask if that little girl is reading that book. my reply, why the hell wouldn't she be?

she mostly reads out loud so any around may enjoy the story as well. i will say with parent-like conviction that there's nothing quite like a bella-reading. if she's enjoying a nancy drew, she may rename her colleen. and if nancy, or rather colleen, runs into some bad guys it's not that unusual for her to be set on fire. but since she's the star and smart and strong, she knows to jump into a conveniently ever-present pool of water thus extinguishing the flames. and then, as with all good adolescent fiction, a bursting can of whoop-ass gets opened up on the dastardly saps who chose, unwisely, to set poor nancy, uhm, colleen, on fire in the first place.

bella obtained some new underwear that has a different day of the week printed on the front of each pair. a few of the days are missing which makes me afraid to ask where the pantaloons came from. my spidey-sense is whispering bad words in my ear. like words that begin with 'good' and end in 'will' or begin with 'salvation' and end in 'army'. don't get me wrong, 90% of my wardrobe has come from vintage stores or darkman's closet, but 100% of what i like to call my 'intimate line' came straight from the super-mall (or mail order). because there's no real reason to maintain the secret that used boxers are to troy dearmitt what punctured scrotums are to george constanza. for sanity's sake we're going to chalk bella's 5-day week skivvies up to lame packaging, dear lawd please let it be lame packaging and if it ain't please let me remain an ignorant old fool.

anyways, i've been looking for the adult, male version of these decision-free briefs. wondering how the adult, male model differs from the tiny, girl model? instead of the days of the week, they have, in block print across the front, the weeks of the month, as in week one, week two, and so on. sadly, this item seems to be quite in demand because every store i contact says they don't have anything like that in stock.

---

as for the quiet week, my dsl went out to lunch a few days ago. i'm making this post via the back porch of some out-of-town neighbors who left their wireless router on. truth told, i only started out on their back porch. i've since found a way into their home and am now sitting indian style on their king size bed, with my shoes on. and, yes, i did see if he had the cool weeks-of-the-month boxers. he doesn't. nor does his wife.

BELLA
do you want me to roast a marshmallow for you father?

TROY
uhm. no bell. i'm good.

(short pause)

MARTY
bella, your dad thinks it weird that his family is sitting around the stove in the middle of july roasting mini-marshmallows over one of the burners.

BELLA
why does he think it's weird?

MARTY
he just does. what he doesn't know though is my sister, your aunt cheri, once roasted marshmallows over an electric skillet so this is not nearly as odd as he may think it is.

---

i'm not completely sure if marty is trying to refute or support my position on this matter.

nor am i entirely certain how it is that i remain to be considered the odd one living in this home, especially after i repeatedly document tendencies such as this.

for yesterday's rockefeller post, i waffled between the three shots below. i'm usually more confident with the images i select but this time i couldn't get the other ones out of my head so decided to share all three. what is most curious to me is that these photos were taken within a two minute time frame and the mood of each is so markedly unique. these images do a lot to visually convey the uncertainty and unpredictability of life with children.

we found a rabbit in front of our house about five minutes after a cat found it. it was in quite rough shape. after kicking at the cat, i moved the rabbit to our backyard and told bella we should leave it alone so it could die in peace. ten minutes later i looked out the window to find bella reading to the rabbit. an hour later, marty and bella buried the rabbit, in a shady spot picked by bella.


i have a cousin who in his teenage years used to kill cats. he killed a lot of them and he killed them in all kinds of ways. with his car. with his guns. with his slingshots. and, almost without doubt, with his bare hands. i used to think this was terrible. i'm now thinking about hiring him.

at alex's 2-year birthday party, all four grandparents were very impressed when bella said something was 'despicable' although it sounded more like 'spicable'.

the same could not be said this same evening when she later called one of her teddy bears a 'stupid-ass' which pretty much came out sounding like 'stupid-ass'.

marty is holidaying in florida with her sister, spring break-style for sure. she deserves it. this is her first vacation away from her children since she's had children. bella just turned four if you need perspective. fact is, i kicked her out, i said the words 'leave. get out. we don't need you. go. have fun. we'll be fine.' i want to be clear, those words were formed by me and under my own volit...

bella on observing grandma's natvity scene had been put away after the holidays.

i'd pay killer money for someone to wash me everyday. i'd just sit there and lift my arm when told. roll over when asked. and close my eyes when prompted. i'd be the best person you ever washed. so why doesn't she get what a stellar perk this is?

i believe to get a representative feel for what life is like somewhere you have to capture the unceremonious words and images around you. the following snippet i overheard between marty and bella offers some insight into life in our home.

BELLA
can santa say words like dammit and stupid?

MARTY
i imagine he can but i bet he chooses different words.

BELLA
i bet he doesn't choose different words and does say dammit and stupid. a lot.

and, in the event you're still a little fuzzy on the scene, this conversation might sharpen the picture a touch more.

be thankful for...

your opportunities.
people who like you.
indoor plumbing.
and an underwear optional lifestyle.

if you recall, marty and bella were in nyc last weekend. marty went there for two reasons:

1. so bella could see her long time friend, grace, who moved there earlier this year and,
2. to get the hell away from alex.

marty had been commenting on how clingy he'd been since she started the weaning process. i didn't notice it, but then again i'm at work for 3 hours a day so i'm not the fixture in the house walt is. with marty gone and me on little man duty, allow me summarize the weekend as such:

alex's attention requirements make the needs of my third girlfriend look like care instructions for a pet rock.

on a positive note, at least i didn't wake up to find him attempting to draw milk from my itty-bitty, one-haired, man-nipple, as i did with his sister.

this weekend bella is going to have her first sleep over at a friend's house. the friend is grace and the place is manhattan. this puts little man and i on our own this weekend. very exciting.

on the morning they were to leave, i was up early (4:30am) addressing work issues. at one point i walked into the bedroom and found bella had snuck into my spot in bed and was snuggled in close to marty. i took a moment to stand and watch my two girls looking so perfect. suddenly, marty bolted upright, looked next to her and pushed bella two feet further away and then re-collapsed into her previous pose.

this was not a gentle persuasion, one fearful of waking a resting child. it most reminded me of how i used to push fifty pound burlap sacks of idaho russets around the cellar of a restaurant i worked at.

you have to take time for the sentimental moments in this house because when they do happen they don't happen for long.

bella places a pen and sealed envelope on my desk and says she needs me to address it to someone for her. i pick up the pen and tell her to shoot. she dictates the following:

sarah.
your face is in this envelope.
open envelope.
we love you.

if i were sarah, i'm not sure if i'd be really pleased or terribly pissed.

a week before bella was to begin preschool she said she wanted to make valentines for her teachers. for those who don't live with this girl, valentines are the common world equivalent of a homemade hallmark card.

bella valentines typically involve of a complex formula only fully understood by her. they are diverse in style but do have certain common threads. for instance, rarely are people drawn without a browneye. allow me to swing your attention to exhibit a which i will call the 'grandparent anal valentines debacle' which fostered several silent dinners at my parent's house. given her past record, walt and i were a touch concerned of what might be in store for her new teachers.

you can obviously imagine our anxiety when bella announced her creations were complete. we hesitantly took them from her outstretched hand and eyed them carefully. no anuses, check. no penises, check. no ginas, check. (gina is pronounced like china only with a G and is how bella says the word, yes you guessed it, vagina). relief poured over us. it was important that the teachers' first impression of our child was not a jaded, or real, perception. we felt this was a pivotal component of our eldest girl's success in the classroom.

on the morning of the first day, bella was super adamant that her valentines not be left behind. we assured her multiple times we had them, clapping my hand on the three sheets of paper in my back pocket. once at school it was her single and immediate mission to distribute them to her teachers. i only saw the first of these transactions. she gave it to the smiling educator who leaned down to thank her.

teacher: oh my, isn't this a beautiful picture.

bella: yes it is. it is a person being chased by a shooter.

teacher: oh. well, isn't that ... interesting.

yes it is interesting, but not nearly as interesting as the parallel story of how marty and i became the newest names on missouri's department of family services watch-list fifteen minutes after that exchange took place.

i'm confident we just witnessed the beginning of what is certain to be a rollicking academic career.

in case you missed it yesterday, a new troyscript was posted.

in case you were wondering, after reading the above troyscript, what it looked like to have your bedroom across the way from bella's, wonder no more. photo compliments of the previous tenant.

we got us a school-age child. she starts today.

if you run into me and think i'm crying, i am.

regarding any thoughts of strength, peace and love you were going to wish my way, please direct them to her teachers instead for they need the help far more than me.

those poor and unsuspecting souls.

here's the short sound bite:
and, here's the longer sound bite:
troyscript : the lie

little kids masturbate.

my sister in law, who is an elementary teacher, calls kids who masturbate in class honkers. she calls the act of masturbating in class, honking. i fear my kids may be future honkers. while i don't recall specifically, odds are more than good that i may have been a honker myself. my new theory is that without intervention, all kids have the honker gene in them. i r...

is it butt-naked, buck-naked or are both acceptable?

you wouldn't believe how much i haven't got done for thinking about that damn question.

and if you read that previous sentence out loud in my house you would have bella tell you that DAMN is one of the two words on the CAN'T SAY list.

the other word is STUPID.

and, everytime i hear the 'stupid'-word-rule i can't help but think of the uphill battle we're going to have in front of us if we're drawing the line in the sand at the word STUPID. if i were expected to live by this standard there are people in my world who'd think i'd turned mime or gone mute.

while playing outside at the neighbors house, bella ran up to me and said she had to go pee. "so go pee" i told her. she promptly whipped down her pants, squatted and proceeded to urinate in the grass pretty much right where she was standing when she asked the question.

some of you may think that the odd part of this story is that i not only encourage but actually instruct my child to drop trow and whiz in someone else's lawn, but it is not. nor is it in the detail that one of the boys playing with us, a four year old, ran up behind bella, laid down on the ground desperately trying to see the pee come out. i'm watching this little guy watching my daughter and thought, man this kid is a freakshow.

ten minutes later freakshow-boy announces his own need to urinate. his mom, like me, told him to go ahead and go. so he pulled the bottom of his shirt up to his neck, pinching it under his chin. he then pushed his pants and underwear down to his ankles and jutted his groin out in front of him as if he were trying to form the letter C for some seseme street skit. now for those of you out there certain this nearly naked pose is the weird part of my story, slow down. the weird part is not his body's pose, but what he did with his hands during the stance ... using both hands, he made a diamond shape around his penis/genitals, framing them while he peed. as i'm taking this whole vision in, i spied bella squatting a few feet from him studying the heck out of this dude's urination technique. i considered yelling at her to leave the freak alone while he peed but was myself too transfixed for such petty administration. so we both, father and daughter, watched the 4 year old from next door empty his bladder into the front yard of his home.

in closing, i can't even tell you how much i'm looking forward to my next work day where i can casually stroll to the bathroom, cram my polo shirt up under my chin, lower my pants and boxers to my ankles, jut my doughy paunch forward, letter-C-style, and aim for the urinal which will be an impressive four feet away. the only real question left will be if others in the bathroom will lay on the ground (ala freakshow) or simply squat (ala bella) to observe, what i'm sure they will all agree is, a mesmerizing vision to behold.

after watching sleeping beauty for the first time, the following conversation took place between bella and marty in front of grandma nat ...

BELLA
lay down on the bed mom and i will put a prick in you.

MARTY
excuse me.

BELLA
i said, lay down on the bed and i will put a prick in you.

MARTY
and, that would be what i thought you said.

bella went from absolutely loving baths to finding them acceptable to loathing them to the point that if water touches her skin she will shriek in a mad terror that brings the neighbors to our windows, hands cupped to the glass.

most recently she went on a three day jag of refusing to bathe. to put her in forcibly, while an option, was to put yourself in harms way. three days is a long time for an american to not bathe, especially when they live in my home. and especially when they pass the time playing games called DIRT and WORMS.

before having children marty vowed to not have one of those soiled and buger encrusted toddlers that other people were afraid to touch or be touched by. 86 hours into the water fast i asked marty about this missive. she half raised a hand in dismissal. upon seeing this gesture my mind placed this parental ideal in the junk drawer, next to 'will not throw food in restaurants' and on top of 'will not play in own feces' (that's one of my own).

hours later marty was sleeping in some part of the house. i in another with alex on my chest. i was stirred from sleep by someone poking me in the arm and talking to me. i began nodding in agreement and handing the remote over and promising to handle it, whatever it was, later if i could just snooze for five more minutes. bella continued to speak and i continued to lie there with closed eyes:

dad, i don't need to take a bath tonight.

bella, you haven't had a bath in three days

but ...

skipping tonight would make it four, so no deal.

but, i put special scasoli on so i don't need to.

you put what on?

i put special scasolee on so i don't need to.

what is scasolee?

no dad. vascolee?

bella, i don't know what you're saying.

vascoleen dad. vascoleen!

what? Vaseline?

yes. dad. i put Vaseline on.

where?

everywhere.

(i squint my eyes open to see bella naked and every visible shred of skin shiny, slick. and i'm talking from hairline to the tops of her feet.)

ok bella, go tell your mother.

ok dad.

(as she turned to leave i could see that even her backside had sludgy streaks of petroleum coating it.)

a small detail i don't discuss about the things i sell on ebay