a new TROYSCRIPT was posted today. rockwell christmas

a new TROYSCRIPT was posted today. me-minus

during thanksgiving week the nfl ran videos of players and coaches saying what they were thankful for. most of them included the player's family and had the expected and tired phrases. after watching a few i tended to fast forward through them but one caught my eye. first off it was an older guy sitting alone. as i slowed it down i saw it was dick lebau, the famed and long-time defensive coordinator of my pittsburgh steelers. he is 76 years old has been involved in the nfl for more than fifty years and is said to have the crisp mind and vigor of men half his age. i've only ever seen him pacing the sidelines with a intent look on his face and had never heard him speak. in this video he addressed the camera in a measured and methodical drawl, answering the question of what he was thankful for: the commentators, al michaels and chris collinsworth, on returning from the break commented on his spot. during this al michaels mentioned lebau's golf game and the advice he routinely offered, also in that quiet, easy tone: i find a simple beauty to this and reckon it, like all the best bits of counsel, could be applied to numerous facets of life.

we recently learned that one of bella's dogs (from her dog-sitting business) had taken ill, ill to the point that the vets told the family they probably had a week left with him before it would become unbearable for all concerned. of all the dogs bella has cared for this one, Guinness, held the top-spot with our family. whenever bella watched Guinness he would stay at our house, sometimes for weeks at a time, sleeping in our beds, walking laps around our dinner table and standing guard at the french door windows for joggers and dog walkers.

marty and i held off telling the kids as long as able due of the holiday break but given the short window we had to work with—as we had to go down to say our goodbyes—we called the kids down to the living room just days before christmas and explained the situation. bella was, predictably, leveled by the news. marty held bella's quaking frame, tears streaming down her own face at seeing her daughter rocked so. i sat with alex who leaned into me silent and staring. we hushed anthony's questions telling him we'd explain better later.

alex and i then left for a lunch we had planned, leaving marty still holding a now quiet isabella. after a few silent miles in the car, i asked my ten year old how he felt. following a longish pause he softly said, "i think i'm a little bit devastated."

if there is one who makes the most of his words in our family, the safe and accurate bet would point to alex.

if you distract anthony from his work or play, he will, in a very exasperated manner, turn and say and yes, there are waving arms involved.

a new TROYSCRIPT was posted today. vcr

anthony got mad at marty the other day. because of this she shouldered being repeatedly called 'duck-face' from the back of the van as she drove the two of them home.

on the good side he used to call people dick-foot when he got mad. i reckon he'll pull it all together soon enough.

the director of my office sent an email to our young, female center coordinator. in the message he meant to request the following. instead his email read when i arrived at the office, because of the dropped 'contact', the recipient of the message read the sentence to me, asking what she should do. before i had time to respond a graduate student in our space who overheard the question said, "the only proper response is to write back and ask if you can please them one at a time or have to please them all at once."

this was far more entertaining than anything i had planned.

i accidentally missed an email with more penis rhymes from big ed. one thing is clear, this is going to be one rollicking and meandering children's poem.

in reference to this post

"penis! penis! penis! penis!"

the above is what anthony ran through the house screaming after i finished that night's reading of shel silverstein (this is what we read whenever marty is not around at bedtime as both the boys enjoy the poems). the reason he ran about screaming that particular phrase is connected to my promise (after reading shel in particular and before lights out) to turn a sentence said by one of the boys into my own shel-like-poem. anthony, obviously, wanted the first line of the poem to start with the winning phrase, penis-penis-penis-penis.

when instead, i chose to use one of alex's sentences, anthony became inconsolable. between groans of disappointment he said he wanted his sentence to be chosen. i explained that i liked the variety found in alex's sentences more. a moment later anthony went silent in protest. minutes in he broke his stand to ask what would happen if both he and alex said nothing but penis-penis-penis-penis after poems and before bed. i hesitantly confessed i guess the poem would have to start with penis-penis-penis-penis. suddenly his angst vanished and he raised his head to call down to alex in the bunk below, "alex! tomorrow night after poems you have to ..." i reckon you can guess the rest of the plan.

and i can claim yet another parenthood first for me--spending open neurons in my day trying to think of creative rhymes for the word penis. i'm pretty sure dr. spock missed that chapter.

while walking out of a gas station, anthony grabbed the handle on the door and pulled. the door didn't move. marty said the sign says PUSH anthony. he did and we exited the store. as we walked to the car anthony, our six year old, asked, "why would anyone put a handle on a door you have to push?"

marty and i exchanged silent expressions and she said, "i don't know anfer. i don't know."

now before we celebrate a mind as keen as anfer's just yet, allow me to share this second conversation.

TROY
look, there's church butte road.

ALEO
church butte road. ohhhh!

ANFER
yeah, does that mean there's like a church with a giant butt?

MARTY
it's not that kind of butt anthony.

ANFER
oh! then it's the kind of church that butts in line in front of other churches.

the boys and i started a new bedtime game, especially after we've read shel silverstein. what i do is as we're approaching bed, i take a random sentence they say and then try to make a shel-esque poem out of it. as you'll see from last night's sample, the more bodily fluid and organ references that can be made, the better. the one below had them in hysterics (not the smartest pre-bed move) so much so they demanded a re-telling before they would go to sleep.

anthony knows the d-word. and he knows how to use it. mostly he says things like, "i really wanted to say the d-word then but didn't. but if i was still a baby i would have just shouted it over and over ... but babies don't know the d-word which is a good thing because then they might have just laid there in the crib shouting it out when they weren't supposed to."

but when anthony loses his cool he has been known to let the d-word fly loose and wild through the air. and like a master craftsmen with a single, fundamental tool he gets good milage out of this swear staple. there are the expected and surprisingly accurate uses of the word where he'll blend it with something expected, like "head" but there are also advanced combinations, like "face" or "nose", that show the boy's potential. and just when you think you've seen his range, he'll surprise you with inspired uses, coupling the one-syllable weapon with "ear" or "back" or "belly" that leave you wondering if you're seeing a mind touched with a gift or addled by simplicity.

a new TROYSCRIPT was posted today. a hole

anthony calls a dishonest person a liar.

anthony calls an honest person a truther.

and he knows that the right choice it to always be a truther. and he's learning how that is sometimes a harder decision than it seems it maybe should be.

in choir bella (11) bent down to pick something up and hit her head on the back of the chair. she exclaimed an unchecked and uncharacteristic "shit!". when she stood up one of her friends had turned to her, held her arm forward offering her hand to bella and said, "bella. welcome to the dark side. we've been expecting you." then another friend standing behind them started breathing like darth vader. it seems bella was the last to utter a swear in front of the group, a group of playful and sweet girls, as evidenced by this wonderfully precious moment.

i later caught bella muttering the same swear around the house and told her she needs to mutter that more quietly because i didn't want my kindergarten boy taking it to school. after catching bella in the phrase a few more times, i asked a favor of her. i asked that whenever she says felt required to say shit, she extends the phrase to shitake as in shitake mushrooms. early on there was a prominent pause in the syllables as you'd hear "shit" then a few beats later a "... take mushrooms" tacked on the backside. but now, already, it pretty much just comes out as "ahh, shitake mushrooms".

while we're talking inside language, the phrase bella and i use to reference "girl things" is fuzzy pickles. this might go something like:

TROY
bella what took you so long? i thought you were ready to go.

BELLA
i was but had to deal with some fuzzy pickles.

TROY
oh. right. you good now?

BELLA
yep.

TROY
cool.

i like being part of a larger family far more than i ever thought i'd like being part of a larger family.

after taking over the morning duties when marty returned to work, the kids informed me that mom made them a hot breakfast (e.g. french toast, pancakes) every morning. under raised brows i asked, "really?". the children amended their estimate to once a week. i quickly committed to matching that routine as i didn't want the kids to feel the parental downgrade that was happening in our family version of corporate downsizing and mergers.

i named wednesday hot breakfast day and it soon became known as hot breakfast wednesdays. that is until yesterday morning when, as i tended my bacon, marty dashed through the kitchen to grab a piece of fruit wearing nothing but bikini underwear and a bra. the dashing part was i believe on my account because she knew if she lingered too long the kids might be mourning a platter of burnt bacon.

but she did remain long enough for me to rename our mid-week breakfast from "hot breakfast wednesday" to "bacon and bikini wednesday".

when anthony plays chess and wants to resign he lays his king over and says not "uncle" as alex and bella instructed him, but rather "old man".

at the dinner table, during a lull in conversation alex, age nine, announced that he knew what the f-word was. this proclamation paused any chewing noises or silverware clatter that may have been happening. a few people then asked questions. one question was where did you learn it? at school. another was, you know you're never to use it? he knew. then came the smartest question. what is the f-word alex? to protect anthony's still virginish ears alex said he would have to whisper it in our ears. so one by one, alex rounded the table and in the cupped ear of marty, then bella, and then myself alex whispered the f-word — funk.

a new TROYSCRIPT was posted today. so ya know

whenever bella hears me talking to anyone about swimming, she sidles up next to me and waits for a break in the conversation. when one comes she proudly announces that she can swim faster than her dad. then realizing she has cast me in an embarrassing light, she softens the blow by confessing, "but there's a reason. you see, i'm a sprinter and he's a lengther."

a new TROYSCRIPT was posted today. potty words

our house has a swear jar. anyone caught using swears (e.g. damn, shit) or even simple potty words, sometimes called bathroom words, (e.g. penis, butt, nummers) may be called out and penalized. i know many homes with growing children employ this tactic to bring awareness to the use of such words, attempting to make their children more aware of their place in the vocabulary/society. our operation has the slight twist to typical installments in that bella began and governs our swear jar. what drove bella to this drastic, even if unoriginal (unless your qualify a child starting it), response is she is the last one in our house to giggle at creatively blended strings of potty words or lavishly crafted scenarios about bathroom happenings by her two younger brothers ... or her father ... and even sometimes her mother.

many a night bella has sat at the dinner table appalled at her brothers conversation and hysterical laughing at some extra-juvenile story. when she looks to me to correct and scold the boys, she may find me laughing right along side or even congratulating one of their boys for their detailed recounting. extra-exasperated she turns to her gender-comrade in arms only to find her with her head bowed and a hand covering her face trying to hide her laughter. in one of these moments bella, with all but a fist slamming on the table, called our behavior outrageous, and wholly embarrassing, and what if she had a friend over, and then she declared that going forward, people caught using such words, especially at our family dinner table, would have to pay a penalty, the amount to be determined by the offended party. i broke the unusually long post-proclamation silence (in an equally unoriginal move) by pledging five dollars to this swear jar and told bella to see my people when the balance was exhausted. more hysterics. while she didn't appreciate the added laughter she was quick and glad to accept her foundation's first funds.

it time, and after seeing she intended on enforcing her policy, after she'd announce something like, "ok alex. you owe the swear jar seventy five cents for that story" i came to the aid of my family. using my paternal authority, i proclaimed an amendment to the swear jar mandate. it was this: if the person telling the story can make bella laugh while using an offending word, the teller doesn't have to pay the fine. at first bella said fine because she would not laugh at such childish attempts at humor. but what she didn't prepare herself for was how the tales and descriptions would grow, as a desperate storyteller fought to get bella to crack a smile. the details became wild and grandiose and the imitations of sounds and shrieks became remarkably believable and piercing. this extra effort has saved the accused many a coin as for all bella's propriety and blossoming maturity, she too is a storyteller at heart and can't help but appreciate a good and spirited yarn full of juicy words and pulsing images.

these were the first words i heard saturday morning: if you're wondering what that is about, it is code talk between marty and i. if you're wondering what the code is, i'll give you a second hint. the code was born when marty approached me one night and asked if i had time in my schedule to fulfill my husbandly duties. and with that, a new lingua franca was born.

and, i'll let your imagination guess where graham crackers might fall on that scale.