Suburban Safari

The horses of Diablo Downs never fail to amuse and entertain my kids when I don’t have enough time to take them to the Oakland Zoo.

Here’s the mother of all understatements: My kids are animal crazy.

I’ve lost count of how many animal toys they have scattered throughout the house and I’ve lost track of how many animal-related cartoons, movies, and documentaries we’ve seen over and over and over and … well, you get the point … on Netflix Instant.

A big part of Daddy Days is finding a way to keep my 4-year-old son and 2-year-old daughter amused during the day but sometimes there just isn’t enough time to make the trek out to the Oakland Zoo to give our season pass a workout.

Fortunately, there’s a surprising wealth of wildlife within a short drive of our house in the Clayton Valley Highlands that never fails to bring a smile to my children’s faces and burn a decent chunk of time off the clock.

Here’s a quick roundup of our little suburban safari:

THE LOOP

This is the easiest way for me to kill about an hour when the kids get restless and I’m not up for taking them out for a big day trip. A casual afternoon cruise through these local spots with a side trip to a drive-through restaurant for some grub can easily transform my kids from restless rugrats into content little buggers snoozing away on nap time after lunch.

We start our journey by venturing down Mitchell Canyon Road to Diablo Downs Drive where there are a ton of homes with horse stables.

The horses are clearly the stars of this part of The Loop but my kids love animals so much that they even get excited every time we drive by a set of deer lawn ornaments on Tally Ho Court. It’s a little crazy but totally adorable when we drive away and they say, “Bye-bye deer, we love you!” Every time we go out for this little trip on a Daddy Day I know I desperately need a regular paycheck ASAP but moments like that are priceless.

After we crawl our way past every single horse stable on Diablo Downs Drive we make our way to Eagle Peak Avenue near the Oakhurst Golf Course where we wind our way to the end of Ohlone Heights and back to revel in the wild kingdom rounded up by Albert Seeno Jr.

There’s emus in them thar hills! Seeno Hill, to be exact.

Good ol’ Seeno Hill is populated by llamas, goats, donkeys, wild turkeys and (drum roll please) emus. My kids go nuts for the emus which can usually be found right at the corner of Oakhurst Drive and Eagle Peak Avenue. Seeing the other animals can be a hit or miss proposition but the emus are usually where you expect them to be. Surf over to Google Maps and you’ll see exactly what I’m talking about.

I have no idea what an emu is doing out here in suburbia and I can’t begin to fathom why anyone in their right mind would buy a few of them, but I guess when you have the kind of money Seeno has you can buy your own hill and fill it with as many out-of-place animals as you damn well please.

The next part of The Loop comes after we bid a fond farewell to the emus and make our way out to CSU East Bay’s Concord campus after hitting the local Burger King or Carl’s Jr. to get some lunch to bring home.

Most people head to CSU East Bay for an education, but not us. Nope, we make our way up to the university to slowly drive around and see if we can spot any wild turkeys, cows, or coyotes.

More often than not, we see a ton of cows which always elicits cheers from the back seat. Sometimes we see a bunch of wild turkeys which also gets my kids all fired up. We’ve only seen a coyote once but I hear about it every time we make this drive.

After we part ways with the cows of CSU East Bay we head for home to scarf down  lunch before hitting the sack. It ain’t exactly counting sheep, but wildlife on The Loop always does the trick when I need to settle the kids down for nap time.

The rise of Daddy Days

I have no idea how I’d make it through an extended trip out of the house with my kids without this little potty in the back seat of the car to bail them out of their frequent, urgent need to pee.

Since tomorrow marks the 2-month anniversary of my layoff I figured there’s no better time to dive into my post-employment adventures taking care of the kids most of the week.

Yes, you read that right.  I got laid off at the end of February when my job took a fatal plunge off the edge of the Fiscal Cliff.  Damn you Fiscal Cliff, damn you all to hell.  After sending out more resumes and cover letters in 2 months than I have in my entire career I can vouch for the cold, hard fact that it’s a brutal job market out there.  All kidding aside, I’m a little jealous of the 40-hour-a-week job opportunities available to Lloyd and Harry in “Dumb & Dumber.”

But an amazing thing has emerged from the ashes of a steady paycheck that went up in smoke: Daddy Days.  The ability to pay for full-time day care for our rugrats vanished as soon as I got my pink slip which meant I suddenly had to take care of our 4-year-old son and 2-year-old daughter all day, all by myself for the first time ever.

Since my wife and I have sold our kids on the idea that weekdays at day care are School Days and weekends when we’re all together are Adventure Days I decide to call my post-employment time with them Daddy Days.  The name stuck and at this point my son yells, “Daddy Day’s the best!” when I tell him around bedtime that the next day is going to be a Daddy Day.  At times like that, unemployment doesn’t seem half bad.  Of course, when the mortgage is due unemployment truly sucks.   

It’s been a daunting, exhausting, exhilarating experience learning to fly solo with two energetic kids and here’s a quick rundown on some random observations:

• YOU CAN NEVER HAVE TOO MANY SNACKS: I learned this the hard way the first day I had the kids all to myself and they were starving by the end of our little trip to the Lawrence Hall of Science.  It’s not that I didn’t bring some snacks for them, I just didn’t bring anywhere near enough for their voracious, unpredictable appetites.  After that I started filling one section of my backpack with a wide variety of munchies and in the wake of a couple of afternoon meltdowns at the park I finally started packing full lunches in addition to the load of snacks I was carrying around.  Problem solved. 

• TINY BLADDERS RULE MY WORLD: Our spare Fisher-Price stepstool potty has been an absolute lifesaver for me when I’ve been on the road with my son and daughter.  I keep that sucker in the back of our Toyota Highlander and it’s bailed me out of some potential wet messes when we’ve been a long way from a restroom.  There’s nothing worse than being backed up in traffic approaching the Bay Bridge when your kids start yelling that they have to go pee-pee.  A quick exit onto Treasure Island and a couple of minutes later we’re parked, the potty is set up in the passenger seat, and everyone’s happy.  I owe you one Fisher-Price. 

• THANK GOODNESS FOR POTTY TRAINING:  Fortunately, our daughter took to potty training over one weekend around her second birthday in December because I have no idea how I would have managed taking care of both my kids if I had to deal with frequent diaper changes while we’re at a busy park/zoo/etc.  She may have a bladder the size of a peanut but she knows when she has to go and she’s never had an accident on my watch.  Bless her cute little heart. 

• THE LIBRARY ROCKS: My friend’s wife told me about the library’s free Discover & Go passes a couple of months before I got laid off and they’ve been an awesome way to entertain the kids for a big chunk of time.  The passes have already gotten us into the Lawrence Hall of Science, Lindsay Wildlife Museum, Ardenwood Historic Farm, and Aquarium of the Bay.  Aside from that, my kids are absolutely in love with picking out books and videos at the library.  My son actually insisted on going to the library instead of the park this week.  Very cool. 

• BIG BIRD IS NO MATCH FOR CONAN:  I’m sure some 4-year-olds and 2-year-olds are watching Sesame Street these days, but not my kids.  They’re watching “Conan The Destroyer” on Netflix Instant and loving it.  My son and daughter also have an amusing fascination with Jean-Claude Van Damme’s “Lionheart.”  They love all the “owies” Van Damme doles out during the fight scenes.  If there was ever any doubt that these are my children they’re long gone now.

• 

  I feel your pain Mr. Mom and I totally dig the beard.

  “MR. MOM” DESERVES A REBOOT: Since Hollywood often seems to be bereft of new ideas they might as well inject some fresh blood into this Michael Keaton classic.  I’m sure I’m just one of a rapidly growing number of suddenly unemployed, utterly unprepared dads out there who have been thrown into the deep end to fend for themselves tending to their kids during the week while picking through the wreckage of a devastated job market.  I’ve already followed in the footsteps of Keaton’s character and sported an unemployment beard for a little while (my wife hated it), gained a few pounds (I hate’em), made a mess out of the house, and been totally out of place in a strange, new world full of stay-at-home moms.  When you get right down to it, I’m almost ready to star in a reboot of “Mr. Mom.”    

• EVERYONE LOVES ANIMALS:  If there’s one thing that always brings a smile to my children’s faces its animals.  So far I’ve put our Oakland Zoo and Six Flags Discovery Kingdom passes to good use and kept us out of the house all day several times.  Even little Borges Ranch down the hill from our house does the trick when the kids get restless and want to get their animal fix.  Fuzzy little creatures never fail to entertain. 

• RAIN SUCKS … SAME GOES FOR HEAT WAVES:  So far the toughest thing I’ve had to deal with is keeping the little tykes entertained when it’s rainy or roasting outside and we can’t burn off time and energy at the park in the afternoon.  I’ve taken them to Studio Grow and Super Franks with varying levels of success.  The one thing I know for sure is that I’ll never take them to The Jungle.  If you read the Yelp reviews you can almost smell the place from where you’re sitting.  No thank you. 

• I HAVE NEWFOUND RESPECT FOR STAY-AT-HOME MOMS:  I always knew taking care of kids all day was hard work and I always had a world of respect for friends and family who took on that gigantic challenge.  Now that I’ve been dealing with it for 3 days a week for the past couple of months I have a whole new respect for parents who do it full time.  Sure, it’s a blast spending a ton of time with your kids during the week but it’s also exhausting.  It often makes a standard full-time job look like a vacation.

At some point Daddy Days will be a fond memory when one of the countless resumes I continue to send out eventually pays off, but until then I’ll make the most of the rare opportunity to spend as much time as possible with my two favorite people in the world.

Daddy Day means getting the heck out of the house and so far we’ve stayed busy.

Oh no, here it comes: “Because you watched ‘Blubberella’ “

Hey, a movie starring Michael Pare and Clint Howard can’t be all bad, right?

There are plenty of times I can’t make heads or tails of the suggestions Netflix offers and I’ve been trying to invest a few minutes here and there to rank stuff just to weed out some of the more absurd movies and TV shows that pop up for my consideration. Tonight’s head scratcher that appeared while I was scrolling through our streaming account was “Blubberella,” listed as one of the Witty Revenge Movies I might like based on the fact that I recently watched “Miller’s Crossing” and “Hopscotch.”

I have no idea how the heck you get from the Coen Brothers and Walter Matthau to “Blubberella” but Netflix, in all its wisdom, made the connection.

I bet Albert Finney never thought he’d be mentioned in the same post as “Blubberella.” Loved ya in “Miller’s Crossing” pal.

Hate to break it to you Netflix but I don’t want to watch “Blubberella,” the “gleefully low-rent action-comedy” in which “hefty half-vampire Blubberella sets her always-ravenous sights on a Nazi leader who’s concocting a diabolical plan: to create an army of undead soldiers to help his Führer conquer the globe.”

My wife can vouch for the fact that I love some truly absurd movies and TV shows — which probably explains a lot of the horrible suggestions Netflix churns out — but even my juvenile sense of humor can’t embrace “Blubberella.”

Maybe I just need a few dozen drinks to see the appeal of “Blubberella.” Would beer goggles make “Blubberella” attractive to me? Who knows? I have a pretty high tolerance for booze so it’s a little frightening to try and guess how much I would have to drink to get a twinkle in my eye for “Blubberella.”

Do you get the sense that I’m trying to write “Blubberella” as many times as possible in this post? I dare you to say “Blubberella” five times as fast as you can … I’m willing to bet it’s a lot more entertaining than actually watching “Blubberella” (sweet, I just wrote “Blubberella” two more times!).

Of course, the worst thing I did tonight was accidentally play the movie for a split second when I was just trying to click on “More Info” to get some fodder for this post. Now the next time I log in to Netflix I’ll be hit with a load of suggestions “Because you watched ‘Blubberella.’ ” Can you hear me slapping my forehead?

I guess it serves me right for complaining so much about Netflix’s suggestions.

Then again, maybe I’ll get lucky and Netflix will suggest a lot of really good Coen Brothers and Walter Matthau movies because somehow, some way, they’re all related in the wonderful world of Netflix streaming.

Fat chance.

My (not so) triumphant return to the softball field

On Wednesday night, after a layoff of more than 10 years, I stepped back into rec league softball. I left the game as a position player and I came back as a pitcher.

If you’re a fan of the movie “The Natural” you can see that I kind of pulled a reverse Roy Hobbs. On the big screen he comes back to the game as an old man playing the role of slugging outfielder after last being seen as an amazing young pitcher decades ago.

Of course, the big difference is that Hobbs was great as a pitcher and a hitter and I’m terrible no matter what position I play. But none of that takes away from the great time I’ve had playing ball again.

I warmed up for our opening night doubleheader with a couple of team practices and two trips to the batting cages and came away from one practice session bloody and bruised. Some things never change.

When I was younger, faster and thinner (but just as uncoordinated) I broke my leg and dislocated my ankle at a coed practice. I kept up the knack for stupid injuries by straining a muscle in my leg in my first at bat in my first game this week. The whole thing cracks my wife up.

Want to hear something crazy? I sort of like getting hurt in a “Fight Club” kind of way. The pain makes you feel alive in a primal, moronic, pig-headed fashion. Would I rather be at home fruitlessly cleaning dishes, dying a slow death every day, or dragging myself through two softball games in a mild form of agony?

I love dishpan hands as much as the next guy but I’ll take the pain that comes out of competitive activity any day of the week. I may stink when I pitch and hit but I wouldn’t even be out there if I hadn’t lost 38 pounds this year. And you know what? I’m proud to be able to be on the field again — playful mocking by my better half be damned.

In case you’re curious, we lost our season-opening doubleheader. In fact, we got killed. But I’m used to that and it’s not a big deal. The last rec league softball team I played on, the Riflemen, lost 19 in a row before pulling out an extra-inning win in the last game of our second season thanks to a free out courtesy of an opposing player ejection.

The best part of getting out there and playing again was competing with friends. There I was, back on the field for the first time in a decade as fired up (and non-productive) as ever. Spiking the ball after catching the final out of an inning, screaming out encouragement, bad jokes and all kinds of nonsense all night long.

As a pitcher working the first game in my life I threw enough strikes to hold my head high and when I stepped to the plate I made contact every time. It’s nothing to write home about when the woman you share your life with excelled as a fast-pitch softball player through high school but it means something to me.

I was finally back on the field. Maybe not better than ever, but just being there was all that mattered after a decade of sloth.

Fatherhood is toying with me

This weekend will mark my third Father’s Day as a dad and in a relatively a short amount of time I’ve gone from no kids to one kid to two kids.  Parenthood has been great, amazing, exhausting, stressful, fun, expensive … you name it.

Heck, can something be described as poopy?

Because if something can be described as poopy I’ll say that parenthood has also been thoroughly poopy.  I won’t go into details, but it’s amazing/terrifying to see how much poop these cute little buggers can crank out.

But of all the not-so-serious/non-sentimental things being a dad has been over the past few years I’d have to say that on a day-to-day basis it’s messy.  Chaotically messy.  Out of control, what the hell happened to my tidy, comfy home messy.

My 2-year-old son is an absolute blast but he’s also a destructive force of nature.  My wife or I can easily spend more than a half hour putting all his toys away after he goes to bed at night and within 5 minutes of getting up in the morning he seems to have almost everything scattered all over the house again.

You can put my little man in the middle of a perfectly clean living room and in the time it takes to walk to the kitchen to get him a snack he makes the room look like it was ransacked by an angry, roving gang of house robbers.

When you get right down to it, on most days of the week our house looks like Toys R Us after a 9.0 earthquake.

So where did all these damn toys come from?  Let’s face it, he’s our first kid and our parents’ first grandchild so he’s just a wee bit spoiled.  Or as my wife might say, he’s not spoiled he’s loved.  He’s loved to the point of having toys in every corner of the house to play with/throw all over the place.  It’s a miracle that no one has broken a leg tripping over some of this stuff.

You want to know pain?  Step on a Lego while you’re not wearing any shoes or socks.  That’s pain.  It gets even better when you go down in a heap, put your hand out to brace yourself and come down on some more Legos.  There’s a split second where you absolutely despise toys.

I have to admit that I don’t remember having that many toys at any point in my life when I was growing up.  But my son has a major advantage over me because my wife has a large family and we have a lot of friends.  Every birthday party and Christmas delivers a tidal wave of toys for him.

I grew up with a small family and my parents never invited their friends to my birthday parties.  Thanks to that my accumulation of toys was relatively modest.

Let’s not leave out one of the biggest reasons my home is overrun with toys for my son: Me. Yeah, I’m totally guilty of being a little out of control in spoiling my pint-sized pal.  If he takes an interest in something I go nuts.

Die cast cars? Check. Puzzles? Check.  Books? Check.  Balls?  Check.  Why have one or two when you could have a few dozen and watch him light up every time you give him something new?

Heck, if I see something he might like I buy it.  That’s how we ended up with an inflatable toddler t-ball set … which he happens to love.

With all those toys to play with our house always explodes into a complete, utter mess.  Truth be told, I’m actually afraid of what the place will look like when my 6-month-old daughter is mobile enough to join my son on his daily tornado-like spins through all his playthings.

One of my biggest headaches are the Leap Frog refrigerator magnets that end up being thrown into every corner of the kitchen and dining room.  My son must have some sort of grudge against the alphabet because he really wings those magnets around.

Sometimes I try and pick up his stuff at night but more often than not I get lazy and leave everything all over the place.  After a while you can’t help but feel like there’s no point cleaning up the mess when it’s right back in your face as soon as your kid energetically rises from his crib, ready to gleefully attack the day.

Why crawl around picking up dozens of puzzle pieces, die cast cars and magnets at the end of the night when it’s so much easier and enjoyable to kick back on the couch with a gin and tonic, surfing the Web on your iPad while watching TV?  Seems like a no-brainer to me.

But of course, taking the lazy way out usually backfires because I absolutely hate it when the house is a mess.  I can’t even begin to describe how much it drives me up the wall.

It just didn’t seem like there was a way out of this neverending avalanche of toys … until last weekend when I saw the light: LESS TOYS IN THE HOUSE = LESS CLEANING AT THE END OF THE DAY.

Brilliant!  I was all fired up as I basked in the warm glow of my own genius.

I don’t think any human being since the beginning of time has been that excited to have an idea since some wise old cave man invented the wheel a billion years ago.  As far as I was concerned this whole “less toys is less cleaning” plan was the biggest thing since the discovery of fire.

So I made a big effort on Saturday night after my son went to bed and mixed cleaning with purging.  More than a dozen puzzles were cut back to about six.   Dozens and dozens of little cars were cut back to about 10.  Some sturdy but cheap toys were thrown in the back yard and a bunch of small, annoying toys were banished to the garage.

And you know what?  My son hasn’t even noticed the difference.  No complaints, no tantrums, no sadness, no confused searches for anything.  He’s perfectly happy.  And he’s not the only one.

At the end of the day I’m happier because cleaning up after my son now takes just a few minutes.  One of these days I’ll take some more toys out to the garage and bring a few back in to give him a change of pace but the days of having toys covering almost every square foot of the house are long gone, a distant memory of a clutter-filled time that won’t be missed.

So even though it’s a little early and I’m jumping the gun by a few days I’m going to take a moment to say happy clutter-free Father’s Day to me.