The Nicky Fixers

There’s this great game we play.  My youngest son will act as if he has just gotten hit, or smacked, or boomed, or shot by the aliens or mean guys, or enemies…or whatever he chooses to call them at that moment in time.  He does this fantastic academy-award w

inning death scene where he bangs into the kitchen counter (laughing of course…for crying out loud the kid is only 5) t

hen he’ll nip the corner of the hallway, and then grabbing his injured arm/shoulder/stomach…he flops to the ground, laughing his head off, and awaits me to come to his rescue.  I shout and yell, “Uh-oh!  Gonna need the Nicky fixers”.  And if I don’t yell it in time, he’ll bell out, “Dad!  Where’s the Nicky Fixers!”

I reach behind me as if I am g

rabbing a couple of defibrillators, clap my fists together while making an electrical surge type of sound effect, and Nicky begins to smile…cuz’ he knows what’s comin’.  I increase the volume of the sound effect as I grow nearer to his belly, and

Nicky’s laugh quickly turns into giggles as he attempts with all his energy to hide his growing smile with one eye open in grand anticipation of the tickling which is quickly creeping upon him.  All the sudden the defribillators magically turn into 10 fingers furiously tickling this giggly young man, tickling him in every last crook and granny spot on his rib cage and belly as he enduringly tries to yell through all the laughing, “I’m alive!  I’m alive!”  I’ll place the imaginary

defr

ibillators behind my back and moments later the aliens attack once again…and there’s my son…lying on the ground with e grin the size of Brad’s mom waiting for me to come and revive him with the Nicky Fixers.

Innocence

My youngest son just came in about 5 minutes ago and asked, in a hush-silent manner, “Dad…can I come in your office and play?  I’ll be very quiet.”  Whatcha’ gonna say?  The thought of my own son wanting to be near me while he plays with his cars and little action figures…?  I had to loosen my tie and unbutton the top buttons while my head grew a couple sizes bigger.

A moment later he is explaining to me that the vampire is going to be hard to verse (vs.) while fighting the ghosts.  I couldn’t help but chuckle…for I had no idea where he gets this stuff.  We have no video games about vampires and ghosts…and what 5 year old walks around saying stuff like “The vampire vs. the ghost”?  Funny stuff if you ask me.  With respect to staying focused on the task and getting the job done?  I believe it is still very possible, if not more so knowing that your kids are right there by your side.  Yes, sometimes there is no substitute for silence…and it is extremely difficult in this world to find such a commodity, however I prefer without hesitation, the sounds of action figures battling…or in this case…versing imaginary ghosts in far away villages and the clash of cars with sound effects that only a 5 year old imagination can dream of….sing it, Louis!  What a Wonderful World

The Nicki 500

It was my son’s birthday today. Nick turns five years old. What a great age. So, I thought, hey, why don’t we hit the McD’s! Good food, good times! (their next slogan) Anyway, so I pick him up from Joyce’s office and he says, “Hey, Dad, I’ll beat you to the door”. Aha! I thought to myself. A challenge from the young lad. Battle! “I accept your challenge” I said to the ambitious child. He beats me to the door. He then beats me to the car, and to the restaurant. Upon completion of eating, he goes, “Hey Dad, I’ll beat you to the car” and so away we went; jogging for all I was worth. And of course, the little tike beats me to the car.

We get back to Joyce’s office, and I got a little sneaky. I ran, as fast as I could to the door with the little guy trailing far behind. I yell, and scream and leap for joy. All the while he moaps to the door in a gear so slow you might think he was traveling in reverse.

“I won!” “I won” I said as he walked his last few steps to the door. He looks at me with a gleam in his eye and the sun in his face. He says to me, “It’s not a race Dad.”

Can you believe it? That’s what his mother and I have been saying when all three of the boys get into a race to the house, to the car, or even to the toilet, and he is just now picking up on it? Now? When I win the most important race of the entire…day? He’s a funny guy.

"I Have The Power!"

I was sitting at Taco Bell yesterday, writing some notes and munching on some taco grindage when a group of about 7-8 kids walk through the door with two adults. I imagined they were from a pre-school or private daycare out on a lunchtime excursion during Spring Break. I return to my notes fumbling through the child chatter of what they were about to order. I recall my early days growing up and what excitement bubbled within as we would pull into a Burger King, McDonald’s or Taco Bell for lunch or dinner. It was indeed a treat as my father was very cautious with how the family bones were spent…and did so in a healthy way. As a child, pretty much everything is huge! You slowly enter the aroma-filled restaurant with every kind of fat and grease still lingering in the air and your taste buds began to saliva while your stomach awoke and prepared for some food. You could just sense your stomach saying, “OK fellas, time to get up and around. Somethin out there smells good, and I got a feeling it’s comin’ this way. Fall in for roll call!” Of course this was prior to the government stepping into the restaurants and regulating how much taste they can actually offer to one individual before he or she sues because their is just too much fat on their plate. For shame…but that’s a blog for another time.

I would step up to the counter and look at the broad menu which seemed to stretch for miles with all kinds of burgers, fries, and drinkies. A kind old lady behind the counter working her way through social security would welcome me with a big smile and ask me what I would like. I was a king, and she was taking orders for what I was about to feast upon.

These kids reflected the same excitement. They all placed their order and one of the adults escorted them to what seemed like the perfect place to them…just a couple of rows away from some crazy w. fatman attempting to get some work done. Let’s be honest, what kind of poor, humble youth worker goes to a fast food restaurant to get some work done? Honestly? (You have to say it like Dr. Evil, otherwise…it just really isn’t funny at all. And if you have no clue who Austin Powers is, then completely disregard the previous 2 sentences and move on)

The adult had yelled back to her colleague, as politely as possible as one could talk loud enough so that she could be heard from across the room, “If you want to bring the food, I’ll get things started and we’ll go ahead…” her words softer towards the end of her message, but it sounded like they were going to pray. All of the sudden, from a few rows away from me arose a small voice singing a prayer to Jesus. The entire restaurant went dead silent and all I could here were the fryers behind the counter and the scratches of my pen. I put the pen down, looked up, and sure enough…all eyes were drawn to this little girl and her innocent prayer to her Heavenly Father thanking him for the food and the day. Smiles slowly crept to the fellow patrons sitting and eating their entrees. “How Amazing” I thought to myself. The power of prayer, in the name of Jesus…and stopping people dead in their tracks, silencing all, amongst a World Gone Mad

Your son has what???

We hop in the car to get something to eat and right away he says, “Dad we gotta play our game!” I had to think for a moment as to which one it actually was. Then he follows with, “I spy…something Blue.” Before I could answer he blurts out, “It’s the sky. Ok, your turn Dad.”

We went back and forth like that the whole way there. He’d start out saying what he saw, and then tell me what it was before I could get the opportunity to answer. I found it to be rather humerous and recall the game being played a tad different when I was growing up, but what do I care. The rules are less important then the players.

We hit the McD’s, spread our arms like airplanes, and raced inside as if our lives depended on it. Right away he spots a friend of his from daycare, shouts his name, and runs to him with arms wide open, without thought to whom was around or what others would think of him. They hug like brothers and Nicki, my son, expressed how much he missed him (which is funny ‘cuz I think this kid has only missed a couple of days…but as the song goes, who’s counting?) All the Mcd’s gals do their “awe” thing like girls do when they see something cute. I placed our order for nuggets, bbq sauce, fries, coke, and then one fo the workers, which must have been this kid’s mother stepped out from behind the counter, walked over to me and began to tell me that it’s not a good idea for Nicki to hug her son because he has strep throat and ahsn’t been feeling too good.I thought o myself, “Well it’s a good thing he is at home resting up where he is not contageous to the general public. I look over to check on Nick, and his 4 year old friend has his shirt lifted over his head, baring his chest, and in his loudest volume possible expresses how he can’t go back to daycare until he gets rid of his ugly rash! That’s about the point my facial expression of pride and joy for my son who is able to toss aside his fear of what other might think of him for hugging his friend turned into anguish for the mere thought of mile high doctor bills and a bed stricken four year old. Crap! Why does my son have to be so nice, and loving, and charitable? Why can’t he be more like his mother?

(Kidding) I am ever so glad that my loving wife has dispensed hugely important qualities into the lives of our kids such as love, charity, and kindness towards others. And aside from the word RASH ringing over and over in my ears and thew thought that my youngest son had just bumped chests with this kid who has unfortunately been sick…spending time with Nicki for the few minutes we had together was undoubtedly the highlight of my day.

Is there someone you know that has been wanting to spend time with you? Is there a way for you to make that happen? What moveable obstacle is standing in your way?

I just wasn’t thinking…

The Komets were playing at the Coliseum this past weekend, and I thought to myself…”Self, did you not have a great time when you went to see a hockey game as a kid?” Absolutely! I asked my two oldest boys, ages 11, and 6, if they wanted to go see a hockey game, somethin different than renting a movie or playing a vid game…”Sure,” they said with a spark in their voice. I thought, sweet! Some Father/son time…just them and I…a night with some greasy – not good for you, full of fat and carbs and sugar-type food with some sugary soda to chase it all down while we watch tough guys battle it on the ice…who wouldn’t want to go?

We stopped at Rally’s before heading to the coliseum – smart move on my part if I do say so myself. They do have the best fries known to mankind! We got burgers, fries, and cokes, and then it was off to the big game. I recall as a kid the long walk from the parking lot to some huge building, and then waiting in line to get our tickets, and then walking up some huge ramp, I mean orka huge, bigger than Brad’s mom type huge, and when we finally got to our seat, we shed the jacket and cheered, screamed, yelled, jumped up and down – I didn’t really know why, I was just a kid being a kid at the time. What did I know?

It was great to have those memories come rushing back as we entered the coliseum, picked up our tickets, and found our seat. I was enthused by their expressions throughout the beginning ceremonies and their excitement for our team…it was very cool for me to be there while they experienced everything for the first time. I can imagine our heavenly Father taking pleasure in seeing us enjoy something pure and rich and good, for the first time. HE must be enthused to see our excitement rise as our senses are triggered – sights and smells, and the memories made.

Speaking of which, I think I may have goofed, and will hopefully be forgiven. You see, i am far from a rich guy. I’m luck y to be able to spell the word, “wealthy”. I am, but a poor humble podcaster and thus attempt to be rather conservative in our spending…not a penny pincher by any means, but I certainly hate to waste money on things I see of no value…just for the sake of buying something ‘cuz I have money in my pocket…’sss just how I am. Here’s where I made the mistake: The game ended, Komets, our team, won 5 to 2. Victory tasted very good. We grab our stuff and off to the exit we headed. On the way out, Christopher, 6 yrs old, asked if we could get a hat. I thought of myself, we have plenty of hats at home that he never wears, why would he want another? Of course I replied, “I don’t think so, bud. You got hats at home that you never wear.” His face drained of enthusiasm a wee bit, and I took it as just a disappointment that he didn’t get me to buy anything.

He asked again, “Well, Dad, can we get something? A shirt? Something?” I thought…why? Why do we need to buy anything? He’s had some ice cream, a soda while there at the game, we had some Rally’s earlier…why do we need to spend more money? So, of course I stated my position again, “Chris, we don’t need to spend more money. We’re good. We’ve had fries, ice cream…we’re good.” I didn’t hear him ask for anything else on the way to the car.

We hopped in and headed for home. The boys we’re out like a light within minutes leaving just me, the radio, and my imagination. And then it hit me. I felt like such a moron. He had this poster that salespeople were just handing out for free as we walked into the arena, and Chris really wanted one, so I grabbed it and then he hung onto it, which inevitably meant that I would be hanging on to it. I though to myself, can’t we just pitch this thing? I don’t want to be carrying this around the rest of the evening. I figured that if I ask him to carry his own poster, then he’ll eventually pitch it out of exhaustion of carrying around this thing. I was wrong. It never left his sight…or his hands. He held on to that free poster for dear life. Just like I held on to the one I received nearly 20 years ago at my first hockey game. I am a moron. Why did I not see it earlier?

He wasn’t trying to get me to spend money. He only wanted to get something else by which he could remember the evening he spent with ‘ol Dad and his brother at the hockey game. Looking back, it wouldn’t have cost but maybe $10-$15 dollars…but oooh no! I had to be ever so frugal. I just wasn’t thinking.

So, as a bit of advice from someone with fantastically clear hindsight who screws up on a regular basis: If you are the one looking for a souvenir, don’t be too upset at the one with the money if they tell you, “NO.” They are simply thinking about saving a little money.

And if you’re the one with the money, who’s got a couple of guys asking you to part with a small amount, it’s ok to save, but don’t be TOO frugal…they are just looking for something to help them remember that special day in the World Gone Mad.

Who provides for you?

I was in my car on the way home from a weary day. My legs and eyes were heavy with a lack of sleep, and late nights. You see I had not been sleeping well due to some financial woes which were keeping me up and we were really feeling the squeeze on the ‘ol wallet. I was thinking to myself, “What am I gonna’ do?”

So there I am, in the car, cruising along, trying to stay awake and stay in one lane of traffic repeating the question, “What do I do?” and the statement which followed, “I gotta provide for my family!”

All the sudden it hit me. The question had changed. It was as if Jesus himself was sitting in the back seat tapping me on the shoulder and saying, “Pardon me sir, I didn’t quite catch that last phrase. Would you mind repeating it for me please.”

I said it again. “I gotta’ provide for my family.

And then I pictured him in the back seat, looking at my tired eyes in the mirror and saying,

“Now let me get this straight, my child. Who is it that provides for you?”

I felt like pulling over the car, hopping out onto the side and balling my eyes out. I had been seriously mistaken and paid for it with many nights of lost sleep (not to mention all the fresh, tasty espresso that did me no good) It was my fault. I was trying to carry a burden that God never intended for me to do in the first place.

Again, I pictured my Lord in the back asking me, “Now who is it that provided you with a home, a shelter, a roof over your head?”

I sheepeshly replied, “It was you, Lord. Thank you for reminding me.”

“And refresh my memory, but who was it that introduced you to your lovely wife?” I pictured him asking…

“No one else but you, oh Lord.”

“And would you be willing to tell me who gave you those three little healthy bambinos? Who keeps the clothes on their back? and the food in your fridge? and the Black Forrest Gummie bears in your lower right desk drawer?” (I didn’t know he knew about the bears. Now I gotta’ share ‘em)

Again I would reply with, “It was always you, Lord. You have given me every good relationship and possession that I have.”

With tears in my eyes, even now as I write this entry, I sat there as I felt him say, clear as a bell…”What makes you think…I would not continue to provide for you now?”

I sank deeper into my chair as those words bellowed over and over in my head. Apart from HIM, Jesus Christ, my Lord and savior, I am nothing, and I have nothing. It is only because of HIM and his loving mercy to forgive all the stupid stuff I have done in my life, that I have been blessed with positive, uplifting and encouraging relationships with friends, and more importantly my own kids, and especially my loving wife. I would have none of that to worry about if it were not for HIS grace. Thus there is no need to worry…God has only asked me to be a loving husband to my wife, a loving father to my kids, a good son, brother, and friend to those around me, except for cats. Jesus asked us a long time ago to cast all our cares upon HIM, and he would do the rest. I needn’t worry about how to continue providing for them, even in the most dire of circumstances…as they say in the union…’SSS not my job. God has asked me to simply manage my relationships and my stuff as best as I possibly can and in a manner that reflects his love toward us and glorifies HIM, and HE will take care of all the complicated stuff.

Perhaps God placed me in that situation to remind me that it is HE who takes care of me, and provides for me and my loved ones. Maybe he placed me in that situation to tell this story becuase I am not the only person out there who stays awake at night wondering how to keep the heat on in the winter, or keep the roof over our heads, or keep food in the fridge…and that by this story you might be blessed and reminded that none of it is ours anyway, we’re to simply manage it the best we can until our next assignment rather than try to take over control and worry about anything and everything which would be nothing more than a waste of our energy and time in a World Gone Mad.

Michael and the Bear

For years, I have been watching those 30 second Coke commercials with
the big polar bears and their cute little polar bear cubs flopping around and
discovering this magical drink we have all come to know so well and love
just as much as the bears. When they pickup an olde fashioned glass coke
bottled filled with the liquid goodness, and then pop the top and drink of the
soda of the gods, and then sigh, and grin, you can’t help but to jump up from the sofa, race to the fridge, and pop the top of an ice cold Coca-Cola and enjoy….just like them. You smile as you retreat to the couch with the knowledge that for the next few minutes, nothing can interrupt your joy, for you have found the fountain of youth and the world could be coming to an end, fire and brimstone rain from the sky, cats could be taking over the universe, but it’s all good….’cuz you got a Coke and a smile.
So I have always looked forward to the Coke commercials around Christmas time and they help to get me in the Christmas mood and as the first one hits the airwaves, we take the fam to the store and stock up on Coke and chex mix, for the grand commercials of the polar bears have sent out the hidden, subliminal messages that, “YOU MUST HAVE THIS IN YOUR HOUSE FOR THE ENTIRE MONTH OF DECEMBER, THROUGH CHRISTMAS, AND THEN SOME.” Who am I to argue with logic.
You can imagine my surprise when I won a great big Coca-Cola Polar Bear at a Christmas party years ago. I carried it home with pride and it has sat near our Christmas tree every year since.
I came home from work one day, and was shocked to find my bear had been moved. It was no longer sitting in its faithful spot as you enter into Casa Di Bakerboy. I perused the room and found our poor bear being beaten by my eldest son. “What in the world?” I asked myelf, “What in the world would cause such hostility towards a stuffed teddy bear whose main purpose in this life is nothing more than to bring peace, love, and coke to the many homes of fine grown-up children, such as myself, and there’s my son, my own flesh and blood, beating the snot out of this poor, helpless bear, bearing the coke sign and wearing the coke scarf with pride. What has happened to my son?
I walk to the couch to ponder this horrendous act of inexplicable rage and merciless anger. I sit, hands cupped over my face asking, “Why? Why? Why?” I then hear a news report about Al Gore and his “Inconvenient truth” about global warming…and then it hits me. Lightening struck my brain as an epiphany unveils opon little ‘ol me…a poor, humble, podcaster…with nice hair.
Michael must have been watching this report and became infurriated with the lies that spewed out of the mouth of our former Vice Pres. It was obvious. Michael thought it was probably better for there to be no polar bears at all than to have to put up with this stuff about how we as humans control the atmosphere and are killing the animals, and then the focus of the tree-huggin liberals is shifted from saving humanity, to saving the bears (ya’ know, cuz they do so much for us like….umm….let me get back to you on that) and so he took it upon himself to attempt to rid us of the problem all together, so that we could get on with our lives. He grabbed the nearest bear, and started to whale on it (no pun intended) You will all rest tonight nowing that the bear is safe, and is still under our tree to this day, which is of course proof to you, that we indeed continue to live in the world gone mad.

Kerplunk went the brother

I overheard my two youngest sons wrestling and play fighting in the backrgound as I brewed my next cup of espresso from HemisphereCoffeeroasters.com. They would lightly smash eachother in the arm, face, leg, whatever body part that would not cause permanant damage to the opponent. It reminded me of my younger years when I would wrestle with my younger brother, and then we would both tackle our little sister, pin her to the ground, and threaten to allow drool and spit to fall on her face as we asked who was her favorite brother…for some reason I could never stop or pull the spot back into my mouth before it broke off and “accidentally” fell on her face somewhere. Ahhh…family. Those were the days. Of course I do not recall taking it lightly as we fought our little sister. i think we had the assumption that if God wanted to save her from our torment…he would have, but alas he did not. I figured we were simply doing God’s will (he-he) I wouldn’t say that we were necessarily sent from above to toughen our sister up for the real world where regular everyday people would no treat her as kind as usually did. Where was I…

Oh yes, the boys were wrestling in the next room when I heard one hit the ground as if he had been mortally wounded. He played out a death scene in a movie he recently saw where the wounded victim fought for his life. In the best drama, oscar winning moment, he crawled to a nearby chair weeping and gasping for his last breath before he gave up the ghost…I smiled as his younger brother watched closely his elder bro who played out his part perfectly…right before he copied his every move to the last breath, tear, and cry out for vengence. The wife and I quietly chuckled as the moment unraveled before us. The older son would flop his arm on the ground one last time, then the younger woulkd follow. Boys being boys…what a sight to see. God has blessed us with three adoring children and they keep us on our toes and in stitched every step of the way.

This has been another total waste of time in a world gone mad by none other than the Bakerboy Himself.

4 Months in Adavnce

This is my eldest son, in whom I am well pleased and very proud.

He is just like me in many ways…for example. This 10 year old pictured at left called his grandmother and scheduled a week to spend with his grandparents 4 months in advance to be certain to get in in their calendar as well as our own.

Aahh…10 years old and is already picking up the fact that with my mother…you have to plan things in advance, otherwise, chaos erupts and guess who’s to be blamed.