A Kick Shave and a Beauty: Bye Bye to a Bad Beard

The following post is sponsored by Philips Norelco, which provided me with two products for review and also compensated me for my time. Multiple pictures of my weak beard to follow.

Last we left off, we established that Philips Norelco really is the manufacturer of men’s grooming products. You know, as opposed to a major player in the birth control industry, a theory I came up with (along with countless vasectomy jokes) in response to my involvement with their sponsored campaign.

You see, I was supposed to grow a beard in honor of the NHL playoffs, then groom said beard with their Vacuum Stubble and Beard Trimmer Pro. Only my beard repels my wife. Hence the whole birth-control theory.

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How to Make the Best Chicken You’ll Ever Eat

Two quick things: First, this post is sponsored by World Harbors which makes a lineup of marinades ideal for grilling. And second, thanks to World Harbors, I’ve made the best chicken wings I’ve ever made, and if you wanna make chicken wings that will blow you away, you’re in luck. Because I’m gonna break it down for you in this post.

Anyone who knows me well also knows this: I’m passionate about grilling. In fact, I believe that grilling is a form of art which is exactly why I also believe that one’s grilling is limited only by one’s imagination. So when I was recently approached by World Harbors to write a couple of posts about their grill-related marinades to help spread the word about their “Passport to Flavor” sweeps, I totally agreed. You know, because I’m so passionate about grilling. Well, that, and because when you have five kids, it’s never a horrible thing if you have a legitimate, work-related excuse to bail on your wife and fire up the grill.

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A Baby and His Mama

When Caroline and I were dating, one of the things that attracted me most to her was the way she communicated with Alli (then 4 – or was she 3?), and I remember being a bit surprised by that. That I was attracted to her Mom-ness, if you will. But there was no denying it. Something about the way she spoke to her toddler was very appealing to me. And not in a creepy way, mind you. In a wholesome way. In an “I’d be so lucky to have a wife who was that good of a mother to my kids” kinda way.

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The Gift of Baths

I’m the bath guy, y’all. Have been for a good portion of my parenting life. That’s not to say that Caroline doesn’t administer baths. She certainly does. More than I have, if I had to guess (though I bet it’s close). Regardless, there have been little spurts here and there where I’ve been the guy in charge of all things squeaky and clean. And we’re currently in the middle of one such spurt. Which means I’m master of the washcloth, thank you very much.

I used to love giving the triplets a bath when they were Luke’s age for two primary reasons. First, I would usually bathe them individually, which meant I got to spend precious solo time with each. And second, because these baths went down during the witching hour, time was of the essence. Dilly dally too long and you’ve got yourself a meltdown fueled by overtired triplets. And that meant that I had to be quick and efficient with each bath which was a challenge. And I love challenges.

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The Week Without Luke

See that picture up there? It was taken about two months ago. To the casual observer, I’m sure it’s a very good likeness to Luke, indeed. But I can obviously tell it’s a dated shot of my junior-most associate because, you know, I’m his dad and all.

And the reason why I put it up is twofold. First — it’s an awfully cute picture — don’t you think? But second, this past Friday marked the first time I’d seen my baby in a full week, you know, since he and the rest of the crew went to the beach while I remained at home and made hot air balloons and whatnot. (Long story.) And I was amazed at how much my little guy had changed in that short amount of time.

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All I Want For Father’s Day

Wanna hear something funny? I had no idea that this Sunday was Father’s Day till about 10 minutes ago when my wife called and asked me how I wanted to spend the special day. So before I share with you the answer I gave her, let me first tell you why I think I forgot about the big day. There are two reasons, actually. First, I’m not really into Father’s Day. No knock on it, but…I dunno, it’s just not my deal. But, second, Caroline and the kids have been away since last Friday at the beach, so I’ve been flying solo and holidays are one of the things you tend to lose track of when you’re flying solo.

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My Beard Experiences a Change of Plans

The following post is sponsored by Philips Norelco, which provided me with two products for review and also compensated me for my time.

First: Did you really think I was just gonna start off with a picture of my beard? Because you’d be wrong. To see it, you’ll have to wait a bit. It’s coming, though.

Okay. Next: I’ve got a developing situation on my hands, people. Remember how I told you that Philips Norelco asked me to grow a beard, then shave it off, both in honor of the NHL playoffs and so I could opine on their products here on my blog?

Well here’s the deal. I’ve been growing this thing and, I gotta say, at first it was truly horrendous. And my goodness did it ever itch. Plus, I never really liked myself with a beard, etc…

You know what else this beard has proven to be? Gray. And not of the 50 Shades of variety. Nope. This thing makes a (kinda) young man look old. What’s more, it’s a real wife repellant as evidenced by the following exchange Caroline and I had just the other day:

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Contemplating Luke and Briggs

This post is spon­sored by Dis­ney Baby. I’ll be join­ing the Dis­ney Baby blog­ging team this month, and look for­ward to shar­ing these kinds of sto­ries with you over there — stay tuned for more details.

Another quick note: not the best quality of picture, but it’s one of my very favorites pics ever. It was taken outside in our gazebo in January-ish and it was Luke’s first experience seeing a fire. He loved it, staring with wide blue eyes, dancing flames reflecting from each. Now, the post:

If you count dogs as children (and, seriously, who doesn’t?), then my oldest wouldn’t be Alli. It’d be Briggs. My youngest, of course, would be Luke. And like I mentioned yesterday, I’ve sorta been feeling guilty about having written so little about Luke, particularly as compared to his siblings.

Which is one reason why I was so excited to be asked by Disney to write for their new site DisneyBaby — it’s just the impetus I needed to spend some time hashing through and documenting my thoughts about my little blue-eyed man. Which is only appropriate given the fact that his impending arrival had given me great pause and was steeped in symbolism for me. Partly because I’m neurotic and tend to over-analyze things. (So wait, you’ve noticed? Wow. Okay. Well, where would you say I fall on the over-analytical continuum? Like 75th percentile-ish? A touch lower, maybe even? Because, seriously, I’m not that bad. I mean, you should see my Aunt Jill. NUT. BAG.)

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What About Luke?

You know what comment I used to get all the time when Caroline was pregnant with Grand Finale? “So are you going to write another book now?” Like that was the thing to do. Write a book each time you have baby.

Don’t get me wrong. The question was perfectly logical. After all, the last time Caroline and I had children I did, indeed, write a book. But I didn’t write that book because I wanted to document my children. I mean, that was a huge bonus, no doubt. And something I’m so glad happened. But that’s not why I wrote the book.

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Philips Norelco: Men’s Grooming, Birth Control or Both?

The following post is sponsored by Philips Norelco, which provided me with two products for review and also compensated me for my time. The following post is also proof that it’s always best to have an extra layer of protection if you’re prone to, oh, I dunno, having like 15 kids. All opinions expressed are 100% mine.

I know. You think that Philips Norelco is a highly esteemed manufacturer of men’s grooming products. A lot of people do. But I’m pretty sure they’re dabbling in the birth control industry.

And I’m no stranger to birth control, you know, what with my recent vasectomy and all. Not the most pleasant thing in the world. I mean, there’s the procedure itself, which is pretty intense. Then there’s the whole sitting-on-a-bag-of-frozen-peas deal as you watch a marathon of horrendous movies while hopped up on enough opiates to somehow make you cry at the end of Home Alone. (What? It’s a tender reunion between an abandoned, vulnerable little boy and the mother who never meant to leave him.)

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