5 Years Old On the Horizon

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Well Baby Rangirl, your tiny smoosh face turns 5 and it was a debate on what to do for your birthday party. Do we get a party going at home? 

No, you declared. Probably for the best, the adults tend to get more lit than the kids on candy overdose and we’re all like:

We went glow-in-the-dark bowling recently, and suggested that for a party. “Nope”, despite you acknowledging its coolness. 

In the running is some sort of bouncy/jumpy place…you and your baby bro love your gymnastics:

I guess the parents can be sober for a minute and have shots of chocolate milk (not pictured here, because I mean…milk?):

We hope that no matter what comes of the birthday event itself, you dig your new ride. Baby Ranboy lent his mechanics skills to help get it ready for your big day:

5 years old is a big deal in the Ranman household. I finally get to stop using that baby booster seat of yours in the car with 52 buckle straps. Sorry, I mean: you’re getting older, boo hoo, and other sentimental stuff. 


Parent Teacher Conference 

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For the first time ever, Mommy Ranman and I were on the opposite end of a conference which involved parents that weren’t our own. Despite only being in Pre-K, I suppose Baby Rangirl’s school system wanted to give us all the feels before these kids grow up and disappoint. How messed up could Baby Rangirl be at 4 years of age?

We were bracing for the “…but” after each sentence the teacher delivered in praise of our little girl. Lots of “buts” on my end (see what I did there?) when my father had to go to school with me. I didn’t have a review that involved non-smartass problems until I was a senior in high school and Grandpa Ranman gave up “being tortured” as he’d describe. 

I just hope Baby Rangirl continues to wow these teachers before the Ranman laziness kicks in. 

And now, pictures:

Baby Ranboy took his shirt off. Probably was rooting on the hero in his favorite cartoon. 

The Hulk for Halloween:

Our princess. Also pictured: our parent juice in their containers. 

Brother and sister being parented by the TV:

Stop and Smell the Lack of Roses

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4.5 years of parenting has been nothing but ensuring we hit milestones set forth by websites & judgemental parents; don’t lose a kid at the zoo; and constant feeding. We can’t do a full day away from home without scheduling/planning meals & naps well in advance. 

Oh, we also have to plan around the parents that’ll be around us daily. Bring enough warm clothes for the kids so that the old folk are satisfied. Pack fresh food for the kids to please ever-watching organic/gluten-free fanatics. And so on. Oh so much “and so on”. 

But I’ll take a moment to forget about being this parent-who-can’t-parent 24/7, and enjoy the little buggars for what they are:

1) Indentured Servants. As per 2000s pop star Rhianna said when you were young Baby Rangirl: Work. Work. Work. Dur. Dur. Dur. 

2) Awkward teenagers in the making. Real blondes are even more fun as per folklore, buddy…

…but till then, ride solo in the hottest car because she’ll hate any car you like as soon as you make her girlfriend/wifey. 

3) Younger millenials. Oh look- iPad! 

4) Little Snots. No really, these things are walking vessels for boogers, where we gotta maintain those little nostrils.  

5) Poor decision makers. Don’t want to wake up when daddy says so? I will bring the fire as I turn your toys against you. And also when you choose to watch crap like the Teletubbies. 

No More School…

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…Or…not until we get a tutor.  We got one of those Highlights for kids magazines in the mail. Baby Rangirl was tasked with finding the hidden objects as we all were growing up. But then, she asked a question which stumped me. 

Find the CD. 

“What’s a ‘CD’, daddy?”

I’m out. This new core math teaching is above my pay grade. I didn’t even know how to explain the purpose of a CD to someone who will likely never have to use one. 

Bosom Buddies 

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It’s rough for a dad watching the struggles of breast feeding; you sit back with nothing to help alleviate the discomfort and on-demand supply. But that’s not why I’m jealous. Bond all you want with the kid-

But man do I wish I had functional boobs.

Baby Ranboy, like most boys who have yet to see a woman turn around,  is a boob man. He falls asleep in an instant on Mommy Ranman’s newly-filled bosoms but complains to no end when he lays on mine. And functionality? 

Mommy Ranman is dropping weight like crazy delivering the milk- all without doing a single sit-up or lap around the block. I’d love to sit back and watch the body get tight. 
Without a boob to stand on, I gotta work doubly hard to ward off the dad bod. 

It’s been only one time so far where this sucker finally gave up the mommy dependency and passed out on my boney ribs. Here’s the week in review:


Let’s also continue the rant on how this dude is still peeing all over the place. He actually shot from BOTH ends at simultaneously when I was changing a diaper. Don’t trust the calm before the storm.   

Meanwhile, Baby Rangirl is off making friends at the park and bringing home all sorts of sickness, currently on cold #8 of the year…

    Baby Ranboy is sneezing enough to get a rectal temperature check (sorry buddy) while Baby Rangirl is throwing up enough to get a machine attached to her at the doctor-


You kids are as much work as you are awesome with your colds and flying poop.


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Well Baby Rangirl, you’re a big sister. Baby Ranboy, chances are you’re reading this over the shoulder of your sibling thinking “heck yea- now this blog will pick up in its importance!” 

Slow your roll, boy. You gotta crawl before you can walk- and man is it going to be a slow crawl for us. 

First off, you dropped in at slightly over 8lbs- you know what that did to your mother? Poor woman needed hard pills in order to sit comfortably for more than 1 hour straight. And dude, you have not stopped eating since.  

Secondly. The poop. More food = more poop. 

Although to be fair I kinda botched your second shot at a bowel movement. 

“Ugh, I think I see poop in there,” I told your mother. 

“Already? Kid is barely a few hours old!”

“Um wait. My bad. Those are just his balls.”

Yea, sorry Baby Ranboy. Your man sack was so disproportionately bigger than your body- and significantly darker, too. Is that still a problem for you in the future? Hope you grew into everything okay. 

And lastly- the pee. Your mother and I have never dealt with a free willy that goes off at anytime like your own. You’ve peed on yourself at least 4 times in 3 days when changing your diaper. I had a way easier time with your sister, and that’s without owning lady parts of my own. 

This all on top of having Baby Rangirl question every last thing from mummy’s breastpumping to the freckle on her toe just to wrestle attention away from her little brother. I wonder what a therapist runs in cost these days. 

 Some pics from the past few days:

Baby Rangirl claiming every inch of the hospital room with The Little Mermaid playing on an iPad on my lap, to owning Mommy Ranman’s bed. Oh, Baby Ranboy gets his first Internet appearance. Let’s hope the distance between the two in this pic isn’t a sign of foreshadowing. 

I’m getting ready for birth with my Batman superhero socks. Because you know, it’s all about my courage when Baby Ranboy gets here. 

Mommy Ranman checking out the whopper she just crapped out. Poor kid will always be referred to as a “#2” in all jokes ever. 

This was the towel spread on the car seat before Mommy Ranman was allowed to get in whilst in labor. Brave piece of linen. 



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We’re still in the process of figuring out what will make a decent human being out of Baby Rangirl. One minute I’m threatening her with a timeout via standing on the potty until she does as she’s told; which seems to solidify her hate for me and future pooping issues. The next minute we’re high-fiving Baby Rangirl for coming up with clever lines. 

“Um, I know it’s rude to ask, but did you fart?” I asked my wife at the dinner table one night. 

“Dude, I was about to ask you that. Is it Baby Rangirl?”

I leaned in to smell the iPad-occupied kid who was finishing up her dinner. “Nope. She smells like laundry. Ugh I think it’s the cat?”

Cue in Baby Rangirl. “Mommy, what did daddy say?”

“Nothing Baby Rangirl. We smell something.”

Baby Rangirl takes in a whiff of air. “Daddy, you stink like poop.” Seconds later we found a pile of turd left by the cat on our floor. This cat can’t leave us soon enough. 

One time, we decided to listen in on one of Baby Rangirl’s conversations whilst she played with her toys. There was a mommy, a daddy, and a baby. Baby Rangirl would have the daddy say “stop doing that, you genius. That’s not smart. Genius”.

Mommy Ranman looked at me and we could tell I haven’t been using the word “genius” in the correct way at home. 

We’ll need to fine tune our parenting skills and get it right the second time around. Now, on to the pictures. 

 Playing at the arcades: 
Our first Yankee game together for Father’s Day…she didn’t last until the second inning: 
 Someone likes the candies from my barber: 
Happy 4th from our kid to you! Freedom has 3 states apparently.  

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