Penniless Tim

December 18, 2010

Writer’s Womb

Filed under: Birth,Children,Humor — Tim @ 12:05 am
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I wrote the following letter about three weeks before the birth of our first child and sent it to both sets of soon to be grandparents (for the umpteenth time).  Gavin was born on 9/10/2000.

8/20/00

Dear Grandma and Grandpa,

Since I had a moment to spare, I decided to squeeze out a quick letter (before Mommy squeezes me out–ouch).  You wouldn’t believe the favors I had to promise just to get a crayon and paper.  And do you know how difficult it is to write when you’re balanced on your head and your feet are tucked behind your ears?  Try it!  Crossing t’s and dotting i’s just won’t seem very important, so excuse me if I dangle a few modifiers.  I also want you to know that you should consider yourself mighty special, because I don’t write for just any Uncle Tom or Aunt Amy.  Now if Mommy would just get a little closer to the lamp and Daddy moved his hand off my butt, I could see something and knock this letter out.

I’m really excited to see you soon, but I just can’t decide on a date.  The quarters here might be a little tight (thank goodness I didn’t take in a womb mate), but the room service is excellent and you can’t beat the rent.  For entertainment, I just push on Mommy’s bladder and watch her run (it’s really fun to do it right in the middle of a movie).  I also get quite tickled when I stick my rear end out as far as it will go and Mommy and Daddy think it’s my head (I’ll be worried if they get it mixed up next month).  I tried to get cable TV, but they aren’t servicing my area yet (I’m probably too mature for MTV anyway).  I could almost stay in here forever, but a good hug from my grandparents is just too tempting (and I expect, no demand, many, many hugs and kisses).

I may also have to get out of here pretty quickly because I’m worried about Daddy. He puts his hand on Mommy’s belly and all I have to do is kick.  He gets so excited you’d think he won the lottery.   I’m tempted to hum a little ditty from Beethoven’s 5th Symphony, but he’d probably wet his diaper (adults wear diapers–don’t they?).  I really think Daddy needs to get a life.

Before I come out, I want to make one more point.  All everyone talks about is how much Mommy and Daddy’s life is going to change when I arrive.  Well what about me?  Do you know how much my life is going to change?  No more breakfast in bed.  No more climate-controlled house to myself.  They probably won’t let me eat chocolate for years.  And no doubt I shall have to entertain my parents.  A little smile here, a little coo there.  Oh, the pressure!  And you think Mom’s have it rough during delivery.  The next time you walk by the kitchen drain, try to stick your head through it.  Now you know what I have to look forward to.  You better have a big hug ready for me, because I’m going to need it.

Well I better get to bed.  I was a little rambunctious yesterday and didn’t get enough sleep–only 23 1/2 hours.  I can hardly wait to see you soon, Grandma and Grandpa.  My Daddy says I will be the smartest and most beautiful baby every because I’m descended from good genes (do you wear Levis?).  I love you more than all the baby food in the world.

Love, From your biggest fan,
Baby S #1

P.S. – I’ve been sending subliminal messages to my Mom, but I doubt if they’ll name me “The Calico Kid.”

My oldest boy

Gavin@2

December 10, 2010

Christmas 2010

Filed under: Christmas,Humor — Tim @ 12:45 am
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Dear Family, Friends, Friends of Family, Family of Friends, and Friendly Familiar Faces,

I hope everyone is doing well in these difficult economic times as we all pray for upcoming prosperity.  It was a good year for the Scott family except for the untimely demise of Blackie and White, our much beloved (and ignored) pet hamsters.  Who knew the little fellas couldn’t fend for themselves during our vacation? As with almost everyone, the recession forced us to tighten our belts and use a little fiscal creativity implementing the following money saving ideas:  ignore weeds and pull when roots are established and deep – free yard aeration and no ugly lawn of the month sign in the front yard;  send children to neighbor’s houses at dinner time – free kid meals and fewer dishes;  purchase rickshaw for grocery store visits  – decrease gas costs and lessen child obesity;  purchase taxidermy kit and convert Blackie and Whitey into stocking stuffers – one less Christmas expense and no clogged toilet;  the child tax credit – kids are practically making money for us!

Michelle continues to lead the house in number of fairy tales read, lunches fed, band-aids applied,  snacks supplied,  dinners served, tantrums observed, beds made, bills paid, diapers changed, rooms rearranged, polished brass, kicking ..  stuff (confession after that profession), toilets cleaned, friends screened, cocoa mugs, baby hugs, doctor’s patients and praying for patience.  She even squeezed in a design project for a new company, Lickity Spit,  selling stylized envelope sealers; however,  Michelle didn’t really expectorate much income (hard pun to swallow).

Tim’s status (married, employed, father, Caucasian) remained status quo,  but he did experience a mid life crisis or two.  Initially, he quit his job on a Friday and became a downtown Atlanta street performer earning tips through interpretive dance of computer code (a.k.a. a square dance).   After returning home owing $50, he resumed his job on Monday (fortuitously, he accidentally emailed his parents the resignation letter; unfortunately, he’s out of the family will) .  Tim also began  growing taller while becoming thinner (family height supremacy within his tip toe reach) ; tragically, a Google search  identified pant sizes being in waist/inseam order and not the other way around (from Wilt the Stilt to Percy the Penguin).

Gavin is our blond headed boy with a gold heart and untied shoes.  An avid reader, we have to get his nose out of the books (a good problem to have).  Gavin loves all the holidays (contemplating an Easter Bunny tattoo) and produced empirical evidence Santa exists saying, “Mom and Dad are way too cheap to buy all those gifts.”

Luke John (you can call him Mathew, Mark, Luke, and John for short) loves baseball, Leonardo Da Vinci,  and anything mechanical.  Not your typical eight year old’s hero,  Da Vinci’s mechanical drawings fascinate Luke.  Drawing renaissance inspiration, he built an Ornithopter Flying Machine out of legos, attached a giant crossbow, and flew it to his baseball game where he pitched an inning of hit-less baseball, allowing only 5 runs (4 errors, 3 walks, 2 hit batsmen, and 1 arrow pierced coach).

Laurel is our daredevil in a dress, already achieving a full frontal flip (right over her bicycle’s front handlebars).  At Disney World, she shamed the boys into riding the roller coaster.  Speed is her best friend and a bicycle helmet is Mom’s best friend.  Laurel is also a soccer dynamo, but she may give up the sport – they won’t let her wear a dress and the uniforms aren’t pink.

Visualize a three year old drinking six cups of coffee, chewing gum, singing Queen’s We Will Rock You, and commanding your complete undivided attention – you now know Sophia from the moment she wakes up (6 AM)  until the second she crashes at night.  We thought staying overnight in a cemetery alone was scary, but nothing is more terrifying than Sophia upstairs by herself.  She is sugar and spice – either causing trouble or making the entire family laugh as she hugs everyone.  Sophia is Sophia!

Amelia has now supplanted Laurel as Lulu’s best friend.   Amazing what rewarding begging with a few table scraps can do (Lulu may have been a politician in a previous life).  Turning two in March, Amelia is everyone’s baby girl and she knows it (even demands it).  She loves hugs and hates being ignored.  Love me, hug me, and kiss me or I’ll kick you in the shin is her Modus operandi.  Just in case you didn’t know, Lulu is our pet dog, not our sixth child.

Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel” – Matthew 1:23.  God is with us – then, now, and forever more.

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