Hoping for a New Normal #JerseyStrong

We've managed to return to normal here in the DKL house, here in the DKL town, post-Sandy. It happened a while ago, actually. Normal, of course, is all relative. Before that happened, though, there was a whole lot of not normal...

The Witch Pinata

The warnings were there. We didn't ignore them. Not completely, at least. We just... tabled them. Sandy was coming. It was making a bee-line for New Jersey and all indications were it was going to be bad. We had to get ready, but not for Sandy. For Halloween. Our annual child Halloween extravaganza. So that's what we did. The weather on the Saturday before the storm was eerily calm and overcast. Perfect for an outdoor Halloween party for a dozen or so kids. This day was business as usual. Fun needed to be had. A party needed to be thrown. That witch pinata desperately needed to be beaten down in a violent avalanche of sugary paradise. The hurricane could wait... for Sunday. 

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: The Candy Man Can

Hear ye, here ye. I, the King of Candy Land, hereby declare it safe for Trick-or-Treating to commence in all my kingdom. And to ensure safe passage through the Gumdrop Forest and the Peppermint Pass, I have unleashed my trusty Tootsie Roll hound to protect my royal subjects:

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Soundtrack: The Ultimate #Halloween Classic Rock Playlist

This weekend I showed Peanut the "Thriller" video for the first time. She was terrified. Furrowing her brow, turning away at some points, even squealing in horror at others. She did this through the entire 13-minute film. Then, as the credits rolled, she asked, "Can we watch it again?"

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Pumpkin Chili, Pumpkin Dip, and Wicked Witch's Brew for #Halloween Party #SundaySupper

DKL's Pumpkin Chili

Hurricane Sandy or as I like to call her, "Sandygeddon," can't stop Halloween. Not in our house, anyway. I ventured to the grocery store because I needed festive cups in which to serve my pumpkin chili. As hoards of people were stocking up on bottled water and medical supplies, I was looking for serving dishes.

These are my priorities when it comes to Halloween and the party we throw for Peanut and her friends. After all, with Sandygeddon coming, this may be the only Halloween they get.

My pumpkin chili was a huge hit, among the adults AND the kids. 

So in the true DKL Halloween spirit, I am sharing three quick, easy, and fun recipes that our guests have enjoyed over the years for this great #SundaySupper theme. An entree, a sweet appetizer or snack, and a drink. All of them are sure to make your party extra spicy and spooktacular. Enjoy:

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Our Monster House

My Director and I host Christmas Eve. That's a big deal in my family. But Halloween is still our favorite. Before Peanut - hell, before marriage - we'd have an annual Halloween bash complete with gummy worms soaked in vodka and a witches' cauldron filled with a very spiked punch.
Those parties were epic, man. Punctuated by the year - our first in our condo - that two people in those crazy inflatable costumes had a breakdancing competition right in our living room:

Inflatable Breakdancing Hilarity

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I'll Pick Nothing and Like It

"Millions saw the apple fall, but Newton was the one who asked why." -Bernard Baruch

What's the big idea?
(This guy was on to something.)

What is it about this time of year that turns parents into gluttons for punishment? Maybe it's the need to squeeze every last ounce of outdoor activity out of the beautiful autumn weather before the relentless chill of winter descends. Maybe it's the lure of deliciously picked fruit to serve as healthy snacks and turn into scrumptious desserts. And maybe, just maybe, we're under the delusion that as soon as summer ends, our house absolutely must be decorated with pumpkins this very second. What other reason do we have for wasting a perfectly good Sunday afternoon picking apples or pumpkins or - for heaven's sake - both?

My Director and I gave up this trivial pursuit a long time ago. It sounds good on paper. It even looks good on paper, or in pictures. But in all honesty, it's not nearly as much fun as we think it's going to be. And all we really want is a cute picture of our child with a pumpkin. You know it. I know it. So we should stop doing this to ourselves. 

First of all, you're never going to get good weather. If you get a perfect fall day, play the lottery because you're on a lucky streak. Chances are it's going to be so hot that it feels more like summer. But you're dressed for fall anyway (for the pictures), sweating your a$$ of in jeans and a sweatshirt. If it's not hot, it's muddy because it recently rained. The weather makes dressing for this adventure an adventure in and of itself. It's bad enough I never know which wardrobe combo to go with this time of year: cargo-shorts/long-sleeve t-shirt or jeans/short sleeve t-shirt? And footwear? It could range from boots to sneakers to flip flops. I love autumn but sometimes the wardrobe anxiety makes me yearn for winter just so I can put on a coat and be done with it.

Vehicle required to take your family "picking."

No matter what you wear, you're going to feel filthy from sweat or actually be filthy from mud. If it is muddy, you're definitely getting your minivan stuck in someone else's tire track trench slop when you park. That will force you to call one or two of the strapping young farmboys on the payroll to help you push your swagger wagon free. This will make you feel less manly because a) you drive a minivan and b) you're unable to navigate it out of a tire track mud trench. 

In between docking and freeing your minivan from the slop, you're waiting for a glorified tractor-pulling-a-flatbed that they have the nerve to call a "hayride" because they throw some bales of hay on there for you to sit on. You can't hear a word your child is saying because the tractor engine is humming so loudly you're sure you're never going to hear properly again. Yet you know whatever she is trying to tell you is life-altering because she hasn't spoken until that point. You see, she's decided to mask her enthusiasm about this supposedly pleasurable endeavor. Either that or she just knows.

This is a pumpkin dumping ground, not a "patch."

You arrive at the pumpkin patch only to realize what you knew all along: there is no pumpkin patch. This isn't where they grow pumpkins. It's a field where they dump a bunch of pumpkins for you to pick. They bring the pumpkins out here on the same deafening tractor-flatbed that you just paid $10 a head to ride out here. And they overcharge you for the pumpkin too. Maybe your miserable little angel realizes this as well because she suddenly decides to be uncooperative. She's tired. She's hungry. She's hot. (Because the weather never cooperates.) She doesn't want to get messy. She not only refuses to smile for a picture, but she is throwing the godfather of all hissyfits in the middle of the pumpkin patch Superfund site:

Ok I'll come clean: This may have scarred me for life.

You finally have your apples or pumpkins or both and you're so exhausted and filthy you can't imagine having enough energy to carry all of this crap that's going to spoil before you get it back to the car. You realize at that point that you have so many apples and pumpkins and they took so much physical and emotional effort to pick that you'll never eat another apple or carve another pumpkin as long as you live. The line for the fake non-hayride tractor-pull back to the parking mud pit is 3/4 of a mile long and you're behind the two kids who are fighting with each other and the two dads who are paying no attention to them because they're checking their fantasy football scores. That's another thing: I'm missing a day of football for this. Just because my favorite team is on a bye doesn't mean I don't have football to watch. It's appointment television no matter who's playing.

Do yourself and your family a favor. Just go to your local farm store or garden store and buy some pumpkins and apples without all of the production and drama and be done with it. Spend quality time with your family some other way. Buying pumpkins retail and watching football at home.  Get your picture on the front porch and be done with it. How do you like THOSE apples?

To read the full story behind the Peanut-crying-in-the-pumpkin-patch photo, and why I'll never go "picking" again, click here. 

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The Joys of Homeownership: Jersey Chainsaw Miracle

It's not often someone knocks on your door holding a chainsaw and you're happy to see them. Two days before Halloween, no less. But that's exactly what happened last weekend during the freak snowstorm (complete with thunder) that hit us here in lovely northern New Jersey.

My wife and I were scrambling to salvage our annual Halloween party. Remember how crazy we are about Halloween, and the bounce house we had bought as an "investment?" The snow wiped out our hopes of a backyard party. So we were frantically preparing our basement. This was our backup plan. Jamming a hundred people (half of them children) into our hastily-decorated, unfinished basement.

I went upstairs to get something. That's when I looked out the window over the kitchen sink and saw this:

This was scary. And then...

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The Animals in the Armoire

"A true friend never gets in your way unless you happen to be going down." ~Arnold Glasow

Recently they had a koala day at the Peanut's daycare. I was vey excited. You see, koalas are kind of my favorite animal. Why? Because growing up, my favorite stuffed animal was a koala bear. I named her, originally enough, "Koalie."

Koalie and I went everywhere together. To this day, family members will ask me about her. "How's Koalie?" "Do you still have her?"

They rest in my wife's belt basket

Yes, I still have her. She is retired. And spends her days in the armoire in our bedroom with Ellie, the stuffed elephant that was my wife's favorite stuffed animal growing up. They're not in love. Just roommates enjoying old age together.

If you're wondering why Koalie is a girl, it's because she was married to my favorite Smurf, Jokey. They would ride around the house in my Tonka Jeep with their child, Curious George, in the backseat. Often they would steer off course and fly down the stairs, much to my mother's chagrin.

Koalie up close

As for how Koalie is doing? She's seen better days. She no longer has fur. In fact, the area under her nose is so worn it looks like a smile. But it's not. It's just a bare patch. Her eyes are scratched from countless spins in the washer and dryer, making her look like she has cataracts. Her arms and legs are literally hanging by threads.

Koalie is a relic from my childhood that I will treasure forever.
When I saw on the calendar that koala day was coming up, I asked the Peanut if she had to bring a koala into school. She said no. I asked her if she wanted to bring Koalie anyway. "No, daddy," she told me. "I don't want to bring her because she has holes and is ripping."

"I understand," I told her. I then warned her that her Lammie will probably get like that some day. "That's what happens to the toys we love and play with every day like Lammie and Koalie." She didn't want to hear it. "I dont want Lammie to get holes in her and rip," she said, on the verge of tears.

Peanut with Lammie: Summer 2011

I remember one of my sisters painting Koalie's pupils back on with nail polish after they washed off in the laundry the first time. I was devastated. So I totally understood the Peanut's anguish. We don't want to see the people - or things - we love grow old or get worn out.

Lammie is looking a little worse for the wear. Despite weekly washes, she's brown. She's no longer white, soft, and fluffy. She stinks a little too. And her fur is balding in some areas. Lammie and the peanut have been inseparable since she was about 10 months old:

Peanut with Lammie: 2007

I just hope she holds together long enough until the Peanut is ready to retire her to the armoire with the other spinsters. Peanut loves her so much she wanted to dress as Lamie for Halloween this year. So my wife and I joined her in dressing as our favorite childhood stuffed animals:

When you have a friend that special, you never want to let them go.

We nearly lost Lammie on a recent trip to Ikea. Not one of my finer parenting moments.

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Count the Similarities

"When I'm alone, I count myself. One Count." -Count von Count, Sesame Street

I have a cool job. I am a television news producer at a national financial network. Naturally when I tell people, they are curious. They want to know the behind-the-scenes gossip. "What is so-and-so like off camera?"

I am lying to them. Kind of. That's because I am a vampire. Yes... a vampire. Mwahaha. I am a producer... but for The Count. That's right... this guy:

So yes, I work in television. And yes, I work in news, in that I am providing essential information in an interesting way and with a certain, shall we say, spin. And being that my portion of the show involves counting, I consider that financial.

Let me tell you, it is a pleasure to work with The Count. He needs very little hand holding and requires very little research. He's just that good. Trust me, I have worked with prima donnas and jerks. I could tell you stories about Count Chocula that will make you switch to Franken Berry in a heartbeat. The guy's a nightmare. Literally.

We won an Emmy for this

The Count and I just jive together. We're always looking for new and interesting ways to present the content. Using the organ in his castle to reveal the number of the day? My idea. I was also the one who said we should work with Cookie Monster and try to count apples as he's eating them. The end result was TV magic.

When we're done taping for the day, and I'm finally back at my desk, I call my wife, the Old Bat.

Rare photo of me & Old Bat: Halloween 2002

The Old Bat works full time at a local college, the Vampire College of New York. She's totally turned VCNY around. Since she took over as head of student affairs, NTDs are way down. (That's neck-transmitted diseases.) She says it's all about educating the students to use protection if they're going to bite each other. They try to promote abstinence too, but let's be honest: how many horny young vampires given the freedom of college for the first time are really going to abstain from biting?

She's now tackling the problem of  preying on the human students at NYU and Columbia. Because there are few things a young mischievous vampire loves more than liberal student blood. So sweet and idealistic.

This particular day, the Old Bat tells me she had received a call from the Peanut's daycare. One of the teachers was reporting an "incident." An incident of biting. We were so proud. And at the same time, a little sad and disappointed. We had missed her first bite.

Apparently, another boy wanted to play with a toy hearse she was playing with. When he went to grab it, the Peanut flashed her fangs and sank them into his arm.

When I shared this story with The Count he shouted, "One! One bite from the Peanut! Mwahaha!" He was so excited. Such a good guy.

Just remember: you and I - human and vampires - aren't that different after all: 

I get up before dawn and go to work in the dark. (I work an early shift.)

I spend a lot of time every day with zombies (me and my sleepy fellow commuters on the bus and train.)

At twilight I roam the Earth with an imposing, dark-haired beast. (I walk my dog, Luna.)

I am a slave to my family’s unending thirst and hunger. (I do the food shopping and cooking.)

My family has an aversion to water. (We all despise bath time.)

See? Vampires are people too.

You can read my reaction to the Peanut's REAL "biting incident" here

This was my entry for Week 7 of Blogger Idol. The assignment: a day in the life of your family if you were vampires. I thought it was fitting to save it for Halloween.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Ghosts of Halloween Past Costume Contest

We've had some great Halloween parties over the years. And we take our costumes very seriously. The first year, we think was our most clever:

2001: Retired Vampire and Old Bat

Then there was the year we shocked everyone with our innuendo: 

2003: Plug and Socket

A lot of people still talk about what was probably our most ridiculous:

2004: Deviled Egg and Spicy Chicken

Then there was the year this happened:

2007: TomKat

Yeah, I went full "Risky Business:"

Very Risky

Of course, that was also the year we were blessed with Suri.. I mean Peanut. We landed on the cover of Vanity Fair:

From then on, it's been all about the Peanut:

2007: Peacock

2008: Cowgirl and her Trusty Steed

2009: Butcher, Baker, and what we made

2010: Jessie and Woody

Last year we broke away from the Peanut and went off on our own again. We were Sammi and Ronnie from "Jersey Shore:"

Yes, she's wearing a wig. And I got a spray tan

Those weren't all of them, just the best. So what was YOUR best costume from years past? Think about it, and enter the first ever giveaway on DKL.

Submit your picture by posting it on the DKL Facebook page. But your work is not done there. You need to get your friends to "LIKE" your picture. My wife and I will choose the winner from the FIVE pictures with the MOST "likes" by the deadline. You have until Monday October 10 at NOON eastern. Winner will be announced on the Facebook page later that night. One picture per person.



The winner gets Last Night on Earth: The Zombie Game, courtesy of the cool folks over at Think Geek. 

You can play as the humans or the zombie hoard. It even comes with a CD of zombie music. This is the kind of prize my wife and I would get for the costume contest at our Halloween parties. So we're psyched to be able to offer it on DKL. (We'd also offer some sort of liquor bottle as the grand prize, but shipping alcohol is a hassle.)

So dig through the archives, post your picture, and get as many likes as you can all week. We'll announce the winner Monday night. Good luck!

Note: Your pictures are YOURS. DKL will not keep them or use them in any way. And we'll remove them from the page if you wish once the contest is over.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Scary Crazy

We have a problem. A serious problem. A Halloween problem. In our house, we treat Halloween almost as seriously as we treat Christmas. No, you're not reading this wrong. Your calendar is correct. It's still September... and I'm talking about Halloween already. It's because we have a problem.

How into Halloween are we? We host the annual party. It used to be a drunken kegger complete with vodka gummy worms and costume contests that lasted well into the early morning. Now, it's a kidsapalooza complete with backyard games and a pinata that ends in time for dinner.

This weekend, my wife asked me to bring all of the Halloween boxes down from the attic so she could "take inventory." Yes, inventory. I stacked them in the corner of our bedroom:

You can't see 'em all but there are nine crates total

This year, we decided to be ahead of the game. Planning early because all of our October weekends are filled with other commitments. We already made the trek to Target. Speaking of being ahead of the game, I even bought two sets of Christmas lights while we were there. I can't help myself. Like I said, we have a problem.

That's not nearly as bad as my wife, who bought a bounce house. Yeah... a freakin' bounce house. Called it an "investment:"

We Bought a House

And we complain we have no money. There's not enough therapy to deal with this problem.

Peanut's into it too... rummaging into the crates to find her Halloween toys, including the vampire Mr. Potato Head. But she didn't want him in her room at night because he's "scary:"

Still smiling for a guy sleeping in the hallway

Luna's excited to have her Halloween toys back too:

My what big fangs you have.

I wonder if the Peanut will be as into Halloween as we are when she grows up. Something tells me she will:

Reminder: it's still September.

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Gender Gap

"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind. " ~Dr. Seuss

When you found out you were going to be a parent, what was the first thing you really wanted to know? Boy or girl, right?  Whether you found out before the birth or at the birth, that's the one thing we are all dying to know. (I personally don't see any point in waiting - but that's for another post.)

Now imagine being so excited about your baby boy or girl, loving and nurturing that child for three or four years, then sending them to a school that refuses to identify your child by gender. Nobody - not the teachers, not the principal, not the other students, refers to him or her as "him" or "her." A preschool in Sweden is doing this. They're referring to the kids as a group, as "friends."

Sorry, friends, I just don't agree.

While I also don't agree with enforcing gender stereotypes, I can't support flat out ignoring gender. What about potty time? Will everyone have to stand to pee? Or sit for that matter?

My daughter is being raised in a house where her father does all of the cooking and most of the kitchen clean-up. Her mother pays the bills and is better at fixing most things. It's up to the parents to teach their children that it's ok for boys to cook and girls to assemble patio furniture.

At her school, there is a boy whose favorite color is pink. There's nothing wrong with that. There is another boy who loves dance class. I find nothing wrong with that, either. Nor is it wrong that I carried my baseball cards in a purse when I was a boy. You can read about that here. Those kids are busting the stereotypes, and I'm pretty sure they're doing it all by themselves.

Even the inflatable pool is princes themed

But sometimes, the stereotypes find the child. We tried to avoid the whole princess craze with our daughter. Didn't introduce her to them, buy her any toys or books or show her any movies with princesses. We weren't making a political statement. We just felt like they were a little cheesy and a lot cliche'. Well, guess who is fascinated by princesses anyway? We've got the nightgowns and the books and we watch the movies all of the time and when she plays dress-up daddy has to be the prince or the king.

Her choice. Naturally.

This past weekend, we were headed to a birthday party for one of her classmates. The boy had chosen a Spiderman theme for his party. As we drove there, my daughter volunteered, "Daddy, I hope there are girl superheroes at this party, like Wonder Woman."

My Feminist Superhero

Our little women's libber, perhaps? We probably won't know for a few more years. But she did get a pink Batman painted on her face at the party. Sorry... Batgirl.

These are her politics, not her parents'. Not that we disagree with them. During dinner one evening late in October of 2009, my wife and I were discussing the race for governor in New Jersey, and we asked our daughter, "Are you a Democrat or a Republican?"

Halloween 2009



"I'm a cupcake," she answered, because that's what she was dressing as for Halloween a week later.

A cupcake. A princess. Wonder Woman. Sweet, strong, independent. All words that describe my daughter. All things she chose. Based on gender? Probably. Based on nature or nurture? I think mostly nature, with a little bit of unintended nurture.

Because I knew she was going to be a princess the minute I found out we were having a girl.

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So Good, It's Scary!

Often I wonder just how biased my opinion of my daughter is. Am I 'Bill O'Reilly eating a meal at a restaurant in Harlem' biased, or just your average everyday 'dad who believes everything his daughter does is awesome' biased?

You know how parents can be. My wife and I joke about every milestone Peanut reaches by describing her as being "so advanced." I still give my cousins grief because their mother, my aunt, used to brag about the most inane things they did. "Oh, my boys looove fruit." Really? Who doesn't love fruit? It tastes good, costs little, and is good for you. But that's beside the point.

It's simple to get caught up in bragging about everything your baby does. On the other hand, I'm sure it's also annoying to hear a mom or a dad so blinded by the love for their child that they consider the changing color of that child's poop as a miracle, and are not afraid to share their feelings with whomever will listen.

That said, I am about to spread the word about how my daughter is the greatest thing since peanut butter. You see what I just did there? I used the word spread in the same sentence I compared Peanut to peanut butter. Pretty cool.

My wife and I throw an annual Halloween party. Since it can get louder than your wackiest uncle's tackiest Christmas tie, we had every intention of setting up a babysitter. But our options all included either a drunken pickup at two in the morning or Peanut's first sleepover without us. And as relaxed as we like to think we are, deep down inside, we really weren't ready for that.

Our little "Boo"

So we kept her in her room during the party. Asleep. She made it through the arrivals, the first few rounds of drinks, and the "Monster Mash." Then somewhere between the painfully strong vodka gummy worms and the second batch of witch's punch, the zombie had risen from the dead. "Brains!"

But instead of being a Nightmare on Elm Street, she was more Young Frankenstein. Quietly amusing. She was a bit confused by the get-ups her parents were wearing. Then, when we brought her out of her room, she was even more surprised to see dozens of other crazily clad kooks had overtaken her home. But she hung in there like a spider gripping the last strand of crumbling web.

She had seen what all the commotion was, checked out the scene if you will, and she was not impressed. "I'm going back to bed. Try to keep it to a dull roar out here."

We're flirting with bad parenting right here.

I'm not sure how many babies out there would have responded the same way. Wouldn't have freaked out, and broken up the party. Instead, she sort of became the life of the party for about fifteen minutes. I'm also not sure how many parents out there wouldn't have called DYFS had they known we were keeping our eight-month old in her crib as we pounded drinks in the next room.

But I am sure of this: we are very lucky to have such a calm baby who generally (with some notable exceptions) goes with the flow. My daughter's very cool. Oh, and she loves fruit, too.

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