When it comes to my car, I used to be a real neat freak. I used to wash and wax, vacuum and Armor-all, and even clean the engine.

But now I’m a parent, with two little girls, and I seem to have flat-out given up where my car is concerned…

It’s not that I’ve become lazy or that I’ve stopped caring. It really bothers me every single time I hop in my ride. In fact, I recently had a chance to make a change and get back on the right track. I traded in my BMW for a new car two months ago. This forced me to clean out the entire thing before I handed over the keys on the trade-in. I even refused to put any of the old stuff back in the new car – until such time as I would able to sort out what was really needed (um, yeah, that bag of stuff is still in my garage, waiting for me to go through it).

So, I was given an opportunity to start fresh.

And I blew it. It’s been two months since my purchase and the interior of my car looks like a war zone…

I can’t blame it only on my kids… Wait, yes, I can. It’s their fault. 100%. I’m just along for the ride.

You see, my girls simply cannot leave the house without taking something with them. Even though the don’t need it, I’ve seen them grabbing a nearby item as they go out the door. Just to have something in their hand, I think. No rhyme or reason. And all of this crap gets dumped into my car.

The car has some storage space and I’ve got every nook and cranny filled to the brim – ice scrapers, CDs, an umbrella, sunglasses, all the typical car stuff you sorta need. So, there’s not much room for anything else. Which means that every surface in the car – except for my seat – has something on it. And I mean every surface. For some reason, there are enough cup holders for 20 people and it only seats 7. Naturally, each cup holder is full of something that actually prevents me from putting any actual cups in them. There are toys, pieces of toys, candy, food bits, or trash in all of ‘em. Even the backseat armrest that folds down has 2 cup holders full of junk.

Right now, in my SUV, there are books, games, toys, toy boxes, candy wrappers, school papers, coloring books, crayons, blankets, empty juice boxes, shattered Pop-tarts in Ziploc baggies, folding chairs, necklaces, princess shoes, at least 4 tiaras, Halloween candy, a backpack, receipts, lollipop sticks, and enough leaves that have been tracked in by tiny feet to fill a Hefty bag. There are muddy feet prints on the backs of both the front seats. There are smudgy finger prints on every glass surface, both inside and out. There are marks on the interior windows and the sides of the car where the seat belt has been flung off and and the buckle has gone flying. There is a layer of dust on every inch of my dashboard.

And it’s driving. Me. Crazy.

But, this is the sacrifice I have to make for having kids I suppose. You give up your life for their soccer practice, guitar lessons, trips to the library, and birthday parties.

There just aren’t enough hours in the day. Okay, back to watching my TV shows I’ve got queued up in the DVR. The Walking Dead is rockin’ it and I’m really liking Hell on Wheels…

For the first time ever, as a father, the end of DST has made my life easier!  And how often does that happen?

Um… never.

As I recently wrote in We are Not Morning People, it’s a battle of stubbornness to get my little ankle-biters out of bed. Nearly every morning, there’s weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. It’s never, ever pretty.

But with the end of daylight savings time, we pushed things back by an hour. A magical hour of awesome happiness, it seems!

My girls were in a groove and were used to being forced from their warm beds every morning… at 7am. When it hits 7am now? It’s really 8am to them. And they are actually waking up on their own! Can you freakin’ believe it?

Oh, hells yeah.

I’m doing that happy dance like the father in the commercial for kids back-to-school supplies that gleefully tosses pencils into the cart while the soundtrack announces it’s the “most wonderful time of the year!”

Nearly every morning this week, our youngest has gotten up and crawled into bed with us. We usually have to turn on her light as we’re getting up to start the wakeup process. As soon as that light would shine in her eyes, she’d roll over and bury herself in her blankets. This week? Not even once.

My oldest actually woke up, went downstairs, and started watching television the other morning. She’s the hardest of the two to wake up and the only time she gets herself up to watch TV is on the weekends — and that’s only because we’ve all slept in.
This has never happened in the history of time changes with both of my girls. Or even one of them.

Now, I know this glorious transformation will be short-lived. But I’m going to enjoy it, as long as it lasts. Dammit.

After another week or so, I’m sure they’ll get back into a new groove and when 7am rolls around, they’ll cling to their bed posts and flowered bedsheets as I drag them from their comfy slumber as alarm clocks bleat out a dreadful clarion call.

But let me have my own little personal triumphs. They’re so rare.

Ya know?

And you were only 7 months old when we moved from L.A. to Ohio and, at the time, your sister had just turned four.

It’s been so great watching you grow, seeing your personality develop, hearing that perfect laugh of yours, and falling deep into those gorgeous baby-blue eyes every time I look at you.

I wanted to write to you to remind you about one of our special traditions that we have. In case, you know, you’re actually interested in reading this stuff when you’re older. ‘Cuz… that happens, right? Kids love reading the mindless ramblings of their parents… Right?
Well, here it goes.

You love it when I read to you. You don’t have favorite books that you want to hear over and over again so we make regular treks to the library. We went last night, as a matter of fact, and got 5 new children’s books. At least twice a week, we make the journey. You play hide-and-seek with me, against my wishes, while I try to pick out a few CDs and some books. When that doesn’t get me to stop looking for something for me, you tell me you need to go potty.

And that’s the fiendishness of your library excursions. You know I have to stop searching for what I want and take you to the restroom. 9 times out of 10, you don’t actually have to go. But you always get your way, and because the bathroom is close to the kid’s books, you sprint from the bathroom right into your section. You pick a book rack at random and we sit on the floor.

I love it when you pull out a book and pretend to read it – you’re checking to see if it looks interesting, I think – and then you either put it back or add it to the pile.

When we get back from the library, you usually want me to read one to you right away. But I usually make you wait until bedtime. And when I put you to bed, you beg me to read every single book to you but you usually only make it through two of them before you start sucking your thumb and get a little glassy-eyed.

I’m really loving our little tradition – we’ve been doing this regularly for over a year now. And, sadly, I’m sure the good times will come to an end and trips to the library with “dear old dad” will be a thing of the past, barely remembered.

But hopefully not. I still remember my weekly Tuesday trips to the library with my mom when I was growing up.

Anyway, happy birthday to you! I love you with all my heart. It’s been a wonderful four years!

Now, if I can just remember to pick up the cake on the way home…

We went to a little festival at a local nursery last week. They usually have one every year and this year was no exception.
Mostly we go because my brother’s band plays there. But they make it fun for the kids – there’s a tractor ride, pig races, pumpkin painting contests, and a bunch of other carnival games (and really good food.)

Not much to report, really, but I wanted to share some of the pics of the day. Enjoy…

How is the Fall treating you?

“Rain, rain, don’t go away…

Come again another way…”

Naturally, being good parents, we stopped her to correct her lyrics. She help up her hand and gave us the “stern” look. She sighed and started over:

“Rain, rain, don’t go away…

Come again another way:

Snow!”

You just want to pick her up and squeeze her.