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:


Winding Down at 3

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You’re really a cute kid, Baby Rangirl. Really. Just…just lovely. 

Hourly visits to our bedside during the night isn’t creepy at all. Nor is it the leading cause for sleep deprivation in 2-out-4 adults in our household. You’re swell. 

And the constant interruptions during mommy and daddy’s conversations via knock-knock jokes? Especially ones you cutely botch at the punchline? Not a nuisance at all. 

But…just for poops-and-giggles: how about we have a look at this chart which sums up our current living situation, shall we? A mere look into where you stand at the age of 3:

Let’s see what 4 years of age brings in a couple of months. 

Now, some pictorial updates. 

Here’s you helping mommy blow out her own birthday cake…because you know. You’re the center of it all. As per Mommy Ranman, she’s still 29. Around the age when you can date, coincidentally. Note: the booze was not for you.  
And here you are, trying to eat your bro.  

And then there’s the time your baby bro protested that we weren’t feeding him enough:

Finally, the early stages of what now must be your dungeon—I mean my old mancave. Hope to have it toy-free as long as possible! 


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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.  

2 Much?

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It feels weird that there’s someone’s penis in me…

It’s a boy! Mommy Ranman currently carries your probably-already-annoying baby bro, Baby Rangirl. I’m sure as you read this, your eyes are rolled back into your head as we begin the retelling of a story you’ve already lived.

But I’m going to cite every fight. Every annoyance. Every time either of you piss me off so that when this blog is discovered, you and your bro will be reminded the trials and (errors) tribulations we’ve endured as parents. And mayhaps this will also serve as reason to put your mother and I in a nice retirement home which avoids the mortal enemies we’ve accumulated over the years from defending the actions of you two rugrats?

Yup, it’s a boy! He’s already playing with it already!

Great, this boy has no shame already in front of the doc and ladies. 

The other week we were hanging with your Irish side of the family (Happy St. Patrick’s Day!) in Connecticut while I got over some plague you passed onto me from daycare. How’d you help me recover from all the trips to the restroom during the night at the hotel?

By hogging the bed each and every time I got up. 

Oh, that’s memecat- are memes even a thing in the future Baby Rangirl? Well that’s our 8 year old A. J. the cat conveying my thoughts accurately at your inconsideration. 

I can’t even imagine what 2 kids in a hotel room would mean. You guys are sleeping with the janitor. 

The Joker Teaches Oral Hygiene

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Thank you random pack of Batman cards. Thanks to this freaky card, Baby Rangirl is terrified of going the night without brushing her teeth. We now keep it in the bathroom next to the decorative candles.


The Other “F” Word

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Who knew that you’d learn a new cuss word after 31.6 years of living. I felt growing up in public schools taught me all I needed to know in cuss words for life. But then my wife came along and offered her uterus for rental. Now I wonder if hitting that with the sole purpose of becoming a parent was well thought-out.

The F word I refer to does not rhyme with muck. Rather, it rhymes with live. Hmm. That doesn’t translate well on paper. Do I mean “live” as in life or as in not recorded? So yea, the F word of my life is five.

My body is now set to wake up at Five AM in the morning everyday. Mondays. Saturdays. Doesn’t matter. This kid has me waking up to either console her back to sleep for another hour or I’m up doing chores before she does decide to wake up for the 5AM hour. If I decide to run, it has to be during this hour so as to ensure I am not interfering with prep time for the babysitter.

F’in five AM. It’s such an odd hour to start your day. If I do need to take care of the kid so as to allow Mommy Ranman an extra hour of sleep, it takes me the entire hour to stop seeing our kid with a haze:


Look at her. Supporting mommy and daddy’s favorite teams. I think. I can’t tell. It’s 5 o’clock in the morning. Why does she look like she’s in an A-HA Take on Me/em> video?

A Sumo Father’s Day

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This first Father’s Day for your boy Daddy Ranman proved to be epic. Bany Rangirl, if there’s one thing I learned it’s that our home isn’t quite baby-proof yet:

Exhibit A:


There lies in our backyard the remains of the Jagermeister shot my father was pouring for guests. What could possibly happen? A dude in a fat suit plowed him, of course. That makes all the sense in the world. Oh, I forgot to mention. We were sumo wrestling in our backyard with a bunch of guests for Father’s Day courtesy of Main Event:


So yea- not a smart backyard game when you’re inviting kids to mingle with adults like the fat-suited giant that plowed into my father who ended up head-first into our plastic fence. The jäger he was pouring ended up all over the face of the dude that plowed him into the fence while as you see- the shot glass remained broken into tears of angst all over the green faced earth known better as my lawn.

Exhibit B as to why we still haven’t received our certification for Baby-Friendly environment:


We let our daughter referee. Sure, she’s comfy in her Bumbo seat (click on seat for further example of our awesome parenting) within her playpen, but who knows what happens when she doesn’t defend herself against a awkwardly tumbling adult hurling in her direction.

Exhibit C:

No pics. Just the note of 2 people that caught on fire. They were in the vicinity of trays which were being kept warm by flamed candles and well…poof! Lit Indian people that were highly flammable to begin with due to their high curry content.

Exhibit D: many veteran parents who felt it right to tell us what’s a better parenting practice than anything we’ve done to date.

Exhibit E: our winning trophies looked way too jagged for a baby.


And of course, we put our baby to stare at the field of play to visualize before the sumo began. Perhaps she would have benefitted more from a nap than to stare out the window for as long as did.


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