Friday, September 01, 2017

Why You Should Let Your Man Play Fantasy Football

This blog post is for the ladies.

The entirety of human history is one tragic, repeating story of men violently attacking other men. Every war was started by men. Every battle had men hacking away or shooting other men. Bombs, missiles and rockets were developed by men, launched into battle by men, and glorified by men. Wars have been fought on land and sea, and soon will be fought in space. And sometimes these men fought over ideas or moral outrage. Often it was over a woman. But other times, it was just because they didn't like the other guy's face.

Guys don't need an excuse to wage war, is the point. We do it when we're bored. Or when it's hot. Or when someone's face is just so damn punchable.

We like movies about war, books about war, video games about war, board games about war. We even like museums about war.

Sure, there were women who were great at war, or great at building machines of war. I'm not trying to discount the contributions of women in war. But let's be real, for the most part, men are the culprits.

That's why today, YOU - I'm talking to you, ladies - have the chance to change history.

Instead of fussing at your boyfriend for watching football for four months straight, encourage it! Throw a party so everyone can watch with him, and you can celebrate football being in his life! Buy a big screen TV so he can watch it in the most megapixels possible! If you don't, he might start World War III because the next door neighbors are singing karaoke outside again.

Instead of telling your husband that he can't play fantasy football this year, encourage it! Tell him to join as many leagues as he wants! Maybe join a league with him! It will be a bonding experience. Because if you don't, he's going to tell you that he's running to the store but will sneak off to the bar to watch the last few minutes of a Sunday night game, get in a fight with a Dallas Cowboys fan, and go to jail to cool off. And let's face it, it will all be your fault.

So here's your chance to save the world. Let your man play Fantasy Football. No, I take that back - don't "let" him... make him! And to be good at Fantasy Football, he needs to do his research. Make your guy watch football - not just the NFL, but all the college games as well. He needs to scout for the years to come.

And really, what's the cost of getting the NFL Network or the NFL Red Zone in the grand scheme of things, considering that having those at your house could stop him from going completely bonkers over the smallest detail (due to not being able to release any of that pent-up testosterone) and causing massive bloodshed in the near future?

Seriously, have you seen how polarized our nation is right now? What do you want your man doing: protesting, counter-protesting, or talking smack to his friends on the Yahoo! Fantasy Football or ESPN Fantasy apps (available for free on iPhone and Android devices)?

You know the answer. Do what's right for your man. Do what's right for your country.

Do what's right for the world.

Monday, May 29, 2017

Home Defense

Forget guns and cameras, I have a new home defense strategy: soiled diapers.

I'll get straight to the point. In order to best protect your home, just have a baby, feed it lots of food that seems tasty going in but rancid coming out, and then wait for the baby to soil its diaper. When you change said diaper, place it into a plastic grocery bag, then tie the bag up. You might want to double-bag it.

Did I mention that you should be wearing a gas mask while doing this? You can probably find a cheap one at your local military surplus store.

Once the diaper has been placed in the sealed grocery bag, open whatever door or window that you want to secure, and toss the diaper out.

Now, this is important: if you keep your garbage can in an enclosed area, such as a store room or garage, under no circumstance should you be putting the soiled diapers into the garbage can until the garbage is en route to the front of the yard for trash pickup. Otherwise you're just going to smoke yourself out.

Please realize that this tactic, while affective against home invaders, would-be thiefs, Mormons and stray dogs, may also prevent friends and family from coming to your home. But honestly, most crimes are committed by people acquainted with the victim, so it's probably best to keep those people away as well.

If you already own cameras and/or guns, don't despair - you can use those in conjunction with the soiled diapers. If you see a threat in your camera, just get out your gun, then throw a grocery bag with a soiled diaper into the air, and shoot at it as if you were shooting at a clay pigeon. Aim for above the perpetrator's head. The showering shards of soiled diaper will not only be enough to scare the assailant away, but the stench will also help identify the assailant later.

Enjoy your new, well-protected house!

Friday, December 09, 2016

Mister Mom

Being a mom is a tough job. I should know, because I've been one for the past two weeks.

"Hey!" you're thinking. "You can't be a mom... you're a guy!"

I can be whatever I want to be. Stop discriminating against me based on my gender!

Why have I been a mom? Because Betty had a minor procedure a few weeks ago. The procedure only took 14 minutes, but the recovery time is between 2-3 weeks. She's doing OK, but I'm getting a first hand look at what it's like to be Mom for a while.

And I'm exhausted.

I used to get excited when I got over 10,000 steps on my FitBit. It would take a significant effort on my part, because I sit on my fat ass all day at work. So for me to hit 10,000 steps, I'd have to work at it: walk around the neighborhood, park far away from the office, or just randomly swing my arm at 11:59 pm to get those few extra "steps" in. But Betty always tells me that she gets that every day just doing mom stuff. And she's right. My FitBit has been clocking in at over 10,000 steps regularly, sometimes even before 3 pm.

No wonder I'm so tired.

Betty's parents have been at the house, and they've been a huge help. I honestly could not have done this without them. Their house flooded so they've been floating around at all the kids' houses until theirs is fixed. But we really needed them this month. And even with three grown adults, we still haven't been able to do what Betty does on a normal day. I'm regularly told by the kids that whatever I'm doing is not how mom does it, and I'm doing it wrong.

One day I came into the bedroom, where Betty was on Season 2 of her Gilmore Girls marathon on Netflix, and just said, "I want to cry."

Betty laughed. Real tears of joy streamed down her face. The laughing made her surgery site hurt.

While being Mom this month, I've finally started learning where things are in my house. I've also learned that we have not one but two colanders. (We might even have three.) What!?! I went almost four years without knowing that.

I wish I could go back to those innocent days of ignorance and bliss.

Being a mom is a thankless job. The kids don't say thanks after I get them ready for school, or make their lunches, or make dinner. (OK, so Betty's parents have been doing a lot of that. But the kids don't tell them thanks either.) I'm blaming their lack of manners on Dad, and since I'm Mom right now, that's not my fault. And the kids need to be at different places at the same time. Thankfully we have great friends who are willing to be our own personal Uber drivers for a bit.

But it's not enough. I'm not a great substitute for Mom. I like to come home, rile up the kids, play games with them, bathe them, then go sit in the restroom for twenty minutes and play Angry Birds Pop on my phone. All this "make sure they get their homework done then eat a healthy snack then go do something educational then BRUSH YOUR TEETH ALREADY" isn't my style.

To all the moms out there, let me say this from all of us clueless dads: Thank you. We love you. We need you. We're not worthy.

Betty still has about a week's worth of recovery time before she's going to feel somewhat normal again. And after that... I'm going on a Mom's Night Out.

Wednesday, April 06, 2016

Overprotective Dad on Board

I made the perfect bumper sticker for all the new dads out there. It goes great with your Baby On Board bumper sticker.

 
That's right, it says Overprotective Dad on Board!

What it really means is that if you hit me, tailgate me, cut me off, speed past me, sideswipe me, flash your lights at me, play your music too loud around me or look at me in a way that I don't like, I'm likely to pull your ass out of your car and break your back over my knee.

Don't even think of honking at me.

Look man... I'm incredibly happy that I have a baby at home. But I'll be honest: I haven't gotten as much sleep as I probably should have, and I'm probably not acting how I'd normally act had I received my normal amount of Z's. And your despicable driving is really pissing me off.

That means I'm cranky.

I'm cranky like a baby that wants to be fed, and I'm about to eat your lunch. Cranky like a baby that needs its diaper changed, and I'm about to light a used diaper on fire and throw it into your car like it's a Molotov cocktail.

Drive carefully. Or else. Because there's an overprotective dad on board, and nothing is more precious than my children. You've been warned.

Saturday, April 02, 2016

Weighing Our Options

My daughter Rose was in the NICU for over four weeks. She's home now, thankfully! And in typical Tanory style, while she was in the NICU I managed to not only learn a great deal about the NICU and infant healthcare in general, but I also gathered enough personally shameful and blog-worthy material to last me several years.

For example, Rose originally took nutrition through an IV. Once Betty started pumping, Rose could be fed milk through a naso-jejunum tube - which is fancy talk for a tube going from the nose to the middle of the small intestine. After a while the NJ tube was removed and another tube was inserted to bring milk through the nose to the stomach. We slowly started incorporating bottle feeding into Rosie's feeding schedule. And at each step of the way, the doctors and nurses knew exactly how much milk Rose was getting.

Then around the two week mark, Betty started breastfeeding.

The thing about breastfeeding a newborn is that you don't really know how much milk the baby is getting. This is a very important metric for the NICU, as too little milk intake would mean that Rosie wouldn't get enough nutrients or gain enough weight. At first we tried to supplement Rosie with a bottle after she breastfed. We could assume that if she took x amount of milk from the bottle, then she must have taken y amount from the breast. But the best way to know, as one nurse attempted to instruct me, was to "measure the weight" before and after feeding.

The nurse was quite clearly talking about weighing Rosie. She meant to weigh Rosie before she fed, have us feed Rose, then measure her once she was done. They could then determine how much milk she ingested based on the difference in weight.

But what I heard was that we could weigh Betty's breasts before and after.

When it was time to do the weighing, I jumped at the chance to volunteer. "I volunteer as tribute!" are my exact words, I believe. The nurse went to hand Rosie to me, but my hands were already reaching for something else.

"So do we put them on a scale or something? And should we measure them together or separately?" I asked these questions about of scientific curiosity.

Needless to say, this story went viral within the NICU. I'm apparently a legend there now. On a bright note, everyone remembered me and asked about Rosie, so I guess I helped ensure that she was on everyone's minds!

Tuesday, March 15, 2016

Rose Elizabeth Tanory

Betty and I are really happy to share that our beautiful daughter, Rose Elizabeth Tanory, was born on February 24, 2016.

It's taken me a while to write about it because she was born seven weeks premature due to some complications with her stomach and pancreas, and it's been a whirlwind over here. We're so tired! And my "we" I mean "Betty." I'm not allowed to be tired, or so I've been told. Rose had a successful surgery to fix the stomach issues, and is currently kicking butt in the NICU. But more on that later.

Rose's name has some family history. Rose is Betty's middle name, and it was also the name of Betty's maternal Grandmother. By the way, Grandma Rose (aka Gama) was married to Peter (aka Baba). So two of our children are named after Betty's grandparents. Don't worry, I snuck some Tanory family names in there, too.

We had a lot of trouble coming up with a middle name for Rose. The main thing we had to consider was her initials. We couldn't have her middle name start with an A or an O, because then her initials would be RAT or ROT. Hey, this stuff if important!

We decided on the middle name of Elizabeth for several reasons. First, it's a beautiful name. Second, it didn't start with an A or O, so that was good. Last, both Betty and I have cousins named Elizabeth, and we want both of them to think that we named Rosie after them.

Regarding Rose's surgery, Betty's pregnancy was considered high risk because we lost our last child, James, to stillbirth. During the pregnancy Betty had several ultrasounds, and around week 28 I asked the ultrasound tech if she could look at the stomach. We wanted to make sure that Rose didn't have what James had, which was called duodenal atresia. Duodenal atresia is where the stomach is not connected to the small intestine, or when there is a blockage in the top part of the intestine called the duodenum that makes passing food from the stomach impossible. Duodenal atresia is also called the "double bubble" because it looks like two bubbles on the ultrasound.

The ultrasound tech and our doctors knew that something was going on, but couldn't tell us with 100% certainty whether she had it or not. It sort of looked like she did, but sort of looked like she didn't. And Betty didn't originally have the extra amniotic fluid that she had with James. We kept looking at it during each weekly ultrasound, and it seemed like each time we looked it was clearer that something was going on. As time went on, Betty ended up getting more amniotic fluid. But it always seemed like it wasn't exactly duodenal atresia, because although it had all the hallmarks of it, Betty and Rosie didn't exhibit any of the symptoms until much later in the pregnancy than what we experienced with James. We had already been through it once before and knew what to look for, and this was different - even if just slightly different.

It ended up not being duodenal atresia. Instead, it was what's called Annular Pancreas, which is where the pancreas grows around the intestine and constricts it. This was why the doctors couldn't be sure about it. It looked as if there was a blockage, but it wasn't the same sort of blockage. Had we not been specifically looking for an issue with the stomach, we wouldn't have caught it until after she was born. We would have known about it then because Rose would have not been able to keep any food down.

I really have to thank Betty's OBGYN and our doctors and techs at Maternal Fetal. It was a very stressful time for us as you can imagine, yet they were calm and kept us calm throughout everything. We knew what was at stake, and they helped us make what we believe was the right decision to deliver Rose early. We never got an answer on why James died - unfortunately, many families of stillborn children never do - so we didn't know if Rosie had whatever James had. But we knew that Rosie was not safe in Betty's belly anymore considering the amount of amniotic fluid that was in there.

We delivered at 33 weeks to the day. We were told that we probably wouldn't be able to hold Rosie after she was born because she might need help breathing. But she came out screaming. It was the best sound ever.

If you've ever lost a child, you understand. And if you haven't, let me try to explain: when you're at church and some baby is crying in the back, and you see people glancing out the side of their eyes at the family, whispering to take them out because how dare that baby annoy them while they're praying? Well... we love that sound. That's the sound of a healthy baby. We'd give anything to be able to annoy you with that sound.

So hearing Rosie scream... it was magical.

The day after she was born, she underwent a form of gastric bypass surgery. The surgeons connected Rosie's stomach to the jejunum, which is the part of the small intestine directly below the duodenum. I'm amazed that they can do this. If you personally know a pediatric surgeon, give them a hug or send them some Girl Scout cookies next time you see them. They may have literally saved someone's life that day - and given a baby a chance at life.

Our decision to try for another baby was not easy. Thank you to everyone who has been with us on our journey since James passed away. I'm not going to sugarcoat it... it's been hard. Our friends and family have been wonderful. And I don't know what we would have done without our community at St. George Church and St. George School, as well as Maddie's Footprints, Anna's Grace, Threads of Love, Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, our Infant Loss Support Group, our therapists... you are all amazing people. Thank you for helping us.

Rose is currently still in the NICU, but like I mentioned before, she is kicking butt. She literally kicks her foot up in the air. It's like she knows!

Thursday, May 14, 2015

Cruisin' for a Bruisin'

It had been several years since Betty and I had taken a vacation by ourselves, so in late April we decided to go on a four day cruise to Cozumel.  After years of waiting, I was finally able to use my catchphrase, "!Tengo el gato grande en mis pantalones!" in the appropriate setting.

After extensive research on which cruise to take and when, we decided on the Carnival Elation. We did this for three main reasons: it was inexpensive, the dates were good for us, and Betty thought that there was a Guy Fieri Burger Joint on the ship. (There wasn't.) There was also 24 hour pizza and ice cream, which sealed the deal for me.

But like any Tanory trip, getting to our vacation destination was an adventure onto itself. For starters, when we arrived in New Orleans we waited in line for 30 minutes to be allowed into the Carnival parking garage. After listening to me complain for half an hour about it, Betty got out of the car and immediately broke out in a huge smile. Apparently I was waiting behind people who were parked on the street. They must have been waiting for someone who was disembarking from the ship. There were literally four cars between me and the Carnival parking garage, and I sat behind them like a doofus for half an hour. Fortunately for my pride, twenty other cars had done the same thing.

When we got into the parking garage, a porter took our luggage and directed us where to park. I gave him a tip, but when I looked at him I didn't know what to say. "Thank you," probably would have done it. Instead, I said, "Boom!"

Needless to say, our luggage didn't arrive at our room until after dinner that night.  "Boom!" also became my unofficial catchphrase of the trip.

As soon as we got on the ship we started to explore. We found ping pong tables, a life-sized chess board, pools with a giant water slide, several old people, and lots and lots of food. For our first act of cruise vacationing, we ate Mongolian BBQ (chicken / beef stir fry with Thai sauce) from one of the many buffets.



We took part in a spa raffle, and because the spa raffle took place in the gym, technically I can say that we hit the gym on the ship. It was the only time we made our way to the gym the entire trip. We then played putt putt on the deck of the ship, where Betty beat me with an amazing hole in one. (She totally cheated.  Not really.  Well, probably.)


Every night we ate a sit down dinner at one of the ship's restaurants. We had assigned seating, so on our first night we met our dinner mates, Mike and Laura.  It was their 22 year anniversary, and they were in the middle of buying a house and trying to get the paperwork done on their smart phones before they left the US's cellphone service area. They somehow managed to stay extremely calm throughout the whole ordeal, but I was a nervous wreck for them! When I get stressed I tend to eat, and so it worked out well for me that we were already at dinner.  I ate spring rolls, lasagna and cheese cake, then some of Betty's spinach dip and pork chops.  For dessert Betty got Carnival's special warm chocolate melting cake with ice cream and milk, which became her dessert of choice for the remainder of the cruise.

After dinner we went back to the room and I turned on the TV for a few minutes. Most of the channels showed things that were happening on the ship: upcoming events, a video feed from the water slide, and pre-taped messages from the ship's staff. It was at this point  that I saw our ship's "shopping expert," Jay, talking about a coupon book that had all kinds of great coupons in it that we could use in Mexico. Betty and I debated whether to get it.

There were a lot of activities on the cruise ship, and that night we went to a trivia contest. The main prize of the contest was the very same $25 coupon book that our shopping expert Jay had told us about on TV. Betty turned to me, and in full Napoleon Dynamite mode whispered, "I want that." I was picked to go up on stage and compete in a four round Jeopardy-style contest, and ended up winning the whole thing by dominating the "children's music and video" categories in two separate rounds.  I don't mean to brag, but you need to bring your A game if you think you're going to guess songs from Lion King and Pinocchio in three notes or less before me. I won the coupon book for Betty, and it had coupons for a free heart necklace, tote bag, pearl earrings and other items at Port Maya in Cozumel. We ended up using the coupons in that book to do a scavenger hunt in Mexico.  I even won a trophy in the shape of the cruise ship.

That trophy basically means that we are Cruise Champions.  Stay tuned for more blog posts!