iGoogle

It’s not H1N1 (um, I can’t believe I didn’t blog it, but last spring I really did say it was just the effin’ flu!) and I think we’ve ruled out Mad Cow, SARs and the plague. All signs point to a sinus infection, but it’s been a bitch for almost two weeks. The point, as I do have one. I can’t wait for a good nights sleep again. From time to time Mrs. Hirp and I discuss a mini-Hirp, then we either see a parent dealing with a baby throwing a fit in the middle of Target, see an ad for daycare that makes my wallet quiver or we experience a few sleepless nights. Then we realize, we’d be just as happy to babysit for 30-45 minutes. That, and the Magic 8 ball says, “my sources say no.” Pretty scientific, I’m sold.

This weekend was act three, of trying to teach the Kyd how to ride a bike. First of all, I really find it hard to teach anyone something that I know how to do. Trying to teach my dad how to upload photos from his camera and email them, damn near gave me a stroke last night. Explaining to my mother how to use Facebook, took a year and two months off of my life, and trying to explain to a co-worker how I produce a report nearly led to some work place violence. Yet, some how, I’ve remained pretty patient with the Kyd. Surprisingly patient, so much so, that I’m a little afraid of when the well is dry. But really, it’s a lot of fun. If she’d just relax a little, stop worrying about falling, and you know, do what G says. Then again, her life would be a lot easier if she’d just listen to her father, mother and I. Mostly her mother. Like when she pointed out the Emo kids at Oktoberfest were wearing, and how they were acting, and told her, “never bring one of them home.”

When she said “them” she was referring more to the piercings, the dyed hair and using language that even Fox frowns upon. I was thinking more along the lines of “them” as, anyone with a penis. She says potato; I say potato is to be thrown at boys. We’re on the same page. These are some what related. Fact is, today I’m going to Google “teaching a kid to ride a bike,” just as if we ever did have a baby, my wife and I have discussed how I’d Google everything. Seriously, I mean starting from pregnancy. And I’ve been around mothers-to be more than any guy my age that never had one of his own. I’d be able to give my wife 36 opinions on what kind of water she should drink during the pregnancy, I’d read the first 83 pages that discuss how to properly secure a car seat, and I’d finally read up on that soft spot. Might even give up my old joke about how playing with the ride side of the soft spot will make the left leg do funny things. Porqchop’s nanny didn’t appreciate that one. I can’t imagine how parents did anything without Google. Just like I can’t imagine how any business ran without email, or how we really functioned without cell phones.