Papa's Day...

Greetings and salutations,

Cease and desist with the reply correspondence immediately drafted to question my sanity. I realize that, while it is a Sunday in early Summer, I fully acknowledge that this is, in fact, not Father's Day. Instead, today is a Papa's Day, one of those special days when Mama has to work and Papa and I get the opportunity to bond. The big guy and I have not had the privilege of many such occasions of late due to Papa's schedule. That made today that much more fantastic.

It started off like any other day. I stood up in bed and tried to open my bedroom door at 5:30 a.m. or so. Truth be told, I usually like to rise at 4:45 a.m., but I thought I would give the old man a break today. Nonetheless, upon arising the ritual breakfast bottle was subsequently consumed and then I returned to bed for my morning nap. By the way, I highly recommend an early snooze if one can secure it. I find myself remarkably invigorated throughout the remainder of the day. In any event, afterward Papa and I commenced with our day of fabulous festivities.

It was a leisurely beginning to Papa's Day. I started by tussling with Papa in the living room. I raced toward the shoes to munch on some laces while Papa tried to track me down. It should be noted that this is an advancement for me. Formerly, I would have no part of footwear. As soon as they were applied I would toss them aside without a second thought. Now I have advance to searching them out. Who insists that people cannot change? After this game of cat and mouse, we dinned on a legitimate meal consisting of a marvelously prepared lunch of apples, cherries, rice, and mixed vegetables. After cleansing the palate with some multi-grain Cheerios, we hit the bullpen.

Papa and I retired to the family Cubs museum were I elected to work with my personal catcher. No, this is not Papa; it would seem fairly obvious that he is my pitching coach. I actually have a designated catcher. Admittedly, he has a weak arm; well, actually he does not have any arms. Nonetheless, he shows up everyday and little gets past him. True, on occasion his performance is a bit flat, but that is remedied by Papa inflating him with additional air.

Anyway, after working up a good sweat, Papa and I focused on tractors. I was, of course, Johnny the Tractor while Papa played the roll of Big John. I tell you what, we got a great deal of work done. With the help of Elmo, Ernie, and Gary the Gator we completed all of the chores and managed to plant a good share of the living room. The team effort was amazing, witnessing all of the machines function in harmony was a sight to see. With that said, I was a little disappointed with Cory the Combine's performance. He appeared disinterested, operating under the guise that there were minimal tasks for him to accomplish. We will get even with him in October when harvest time rolls around.

With the work complete, Papa and I elected to take a trek to the local park. After lathering up with copious amounts of SPF 1,000,000, sunscreen, we found our way to the aforementioned destination. It was then that I met the new recreational love of my life...the swing. Oh the time that we had. While Papa was convinced that motion sickness was just a revolution away, I tolerated the exercise with glee. After more than thirty minutes at the park, I thought it was time to return to the homestead.

Upon returning it was time to indulge in supper. Papa prepared a lovely mixed vegetable with chicken entree accompanied by a delightful fruit medley desert. Truly a feast fit for a king. Next up was a refreshing bath highlighted by my insistence on ridding the tub with water, carefully dispersing it on the walls, shower curtain, Papa...anywhere but actually in the tub. After drying off, I settled into my Cubs chair to catch the first few innings of the Cubs Sunday night game. That was a bit disturbing, as my Cubbies gave up five runs in the first inning. But on the bright side, with Aramis Ramirez on the disabled list I did not have to listen to Jon Miller awkwardly pronounce his name. Regardless, it was nice to enjoy a frosty Similac ale with Papa and take in a Cubs contest in the comfort of our own Cubs museum.

As bedtime approached, Papa sat me down to read some nursery rhymes. I bounced and pointed as we progressed through the text. It was great to hit the books with Papa. And with that, Papa's Day concluded. He assisted me in saying my prayers and lovingly tucked me into bed. I did manage to sneak out while he was eating supper to jot down my thoughts on our day together. While I may not remember all of the nuances of today, this memoir will help and I know that Papa will always recall our time together today. In retrospect, although I am clearly a Mama's boy, I certainly love Papa's Day.

Carter

Someone in heaven is always looking after me...

Mr. America...

Greetings and salutations,

First and foremost, I must apologize for the paucity of postings of late. Time is a precious commodity, as you know, and its allocation was elsewhere during the past week. However, I hope that this discussion may compensate for my brief sabbatical.

With that said, as most of you are astutely aware, I am wise to the modern media (technically being a member of this body with my renowned blog) and its fodder on a daily basis. Recently there was some discourse regarding Miss California and her own views on certain issues. Now, I am not one to comment on the nuances of her political stances. Instead, the title of this temporary pop culture icon intrigued me. Precisely what are the qualifications of one who is deemed Miss ________ (fill-in-the-blank)? Extending an argument steeped in rigorous logic, it stands to reason that there too must be Mr. ________ (fill-in-the-blank). If so, then similar characteristics should presumably prevail in crowing these male pillars of society. Thus, if I can merely uncover the mystery of these individuals, perhaps I can become one of them.

The most obvious trait of these people is clearly their dashing, suave, and otherwise debonair aesthetic qualities. Modesty generally prevents me from commenting on this point. However, Mama told me that in this instance it was permissible. She fancies me to be quite handsome. And I must admit that I pull off the bald look quite well. At this tender age, I have learned that there are two variations of bald. One epitomized by one George Costanza. The other bald is fashionable, modern, hip, and striking. Think Michael Jordan or Tyson Beckford. Popular vote places me clearly in the latter category (with a slightly more pale complexion).

Moving along, after reviewing the footage from several recent pageants, it would seem that there is a critical talent component to securing the title of Mr. ________. It just so happens that I have a virtual cornucopia of skills germane to this aspect of the competition. For instance, I take batting practice with the best of them now. Or how about my ability to make fishy noises? If you close your eyes you could swear that you are at the Bassmaster Classic. And then there is my uncanny ability to project food across the kitchen by fluttering my lips. All of these talents could easily be refined for a breathtaking performance.

Two characteristics down, two to go. Every competition seems to have a bathing suit portion. Sure enough, my personal trainer (Mama) has this addressed. She snagged me a rather charming bathing suit that accentuates my positive features while leaving just enough to the imagination. And the tan, now that is truly impeccable. There is not a line on me, primarily because I am entirely and utterly white. This, my friends, is the epidermal wave of the future.

And finally we come to the quintessential trait of a Mr. ________. Often under-appreciated by the common person but lauded by the judges of such prestigious competitions, this aspect is the hallmark of any true titleholder. Dripping with anticipation, I give you...

...the wave. This is so critical for not only becoming a Mr. ________ but also for having a long and prosperous reign. It is this calming upper extremity gesture, with just the right amount of wrist, carefully cupping of the palm, and firm placement of the fingers, that informs the people that you represent all that they seek in a Mr. ________. It is this stunning piece of enlightenment that has caused me to dedicate my current development to refining this skill. Rest assured that the preliminary process of the perfect wave is down and before you know it the masses will say, "That boy sure can wave."

Carter

Someone in heaven is always looking after me...

Grandpa's Birthday...

Greetings and salutations,

You might be inquiring as to the photograph utilized as the preface for today's blog. Well, since you asked (in a non-verbal format), I shall gladly explain. This is one of the few pictures I have with my Grandpa Sherman. I am the subtle guy in black, covered by my Mama's abdominal wall. Myself, along with Mama, Papa, and Grandpa are shown celebrating Mama's graduation from her Masters in Nursing program on May 17th, 2008. Given that today, May 16th, 2009 would have been my Grandpa's 45th birthday, I thought it was a perfect occasion to share this picture.

Unfortunately, the good Lord took Grandpa home to Heaven before I could get to meet him personally. We missed each other by only a couple of weeks. But, from long conversations with Mama and Papa I feel that I know him well. The time that I have spent with Mama, Papa, and Uncle Tyler have shown me that Grandpa Sherman was an excellent man. The stories about Grandpa are legendary. For instance, Papa informs me that Great-Grandma and Great-Grandpa once stated that Grandpa may have to attend military school given some of his youthful indiscretions. Calling their bluff, as he saw it, he drove the family down to Missouri to take a look at the aforementioned school. When he got out of the car for only a moment, he turned around to find his luggage next to him and the family truckster gone! He only spent one year there, but I think he learned his lesson. That is certainly high comedy, and rest assured Papa will not pull that one on me!

But I gather that Grandpa Sherman taught Papa, Uncle Tyler, and Uncle Colin a lot more than remaining in the car on family road trips. The value that each places on their respective families is evidently something that they learned from Grandpa. And hard work...I wonder if anyone worked harder than Grandpa from the tales that I have heard. Upon further reflection, I surmise that those two values are intertwined; Grandpa worked very hard to provide for the thing he loved more than anything in life, his family. This has not been lost on his sons, as they continue to work hard. Even at the tender age of nine months, I have taken this lesson to heart, working diligently to improve my phonics and ambulatory status. As the days pass Mama and Papa continue to share the wisdom of Grandpa; the only thing better would be acquiring this knowledge firsthand.

In the end, I would just like to apologize to Grandpa because I did not get him a gift this year. There was nothing tangible that lined the local retail establishments that was suitable for such an occasion. Instead, a reflection is what I have to offer. From Heaven I hope that he realizes that everything he stood for and taught his sons continues to be displayed daily. It is also being passed along to me such that his values will flourish for generations to come. Those facts and the virtually constant smile on my face are in honor of you, Grandpa. I love you very much and miss you.


Carter

Someone in Heaven is always looking after me...

Mama's Day...

Greetings and salutations,

Today's discourse, to borrow a colloquialism, is dedicated to the most super fantastic woman in the entire galaxy. To be honest, the balloting this year was not even close. Consequently, on a day when we all celebrate the mother in our respective lives (And let us face biological facts for a moment, we all have one.), I would like to share a bit about my own mother, the aforementioned super fantastic woman. I love my Mama, and I am so secure in my rudimentary manhood that I am willing to broadcast such a sentiment to the vast demographic that regularly reads my postings. After all my Mama has done for me it seems like the very least that I can do for her.

Papa was telling me yesterday about something that Mama told him. While stated in privacy, I do not think that he would have qualms with me relaying the moral of his tale. In the middle of putting the final touches on my Mother's Day gift, Papa informed me that every time Mama thinks of how much she loves me it almost causes her to cry. Often she remarks that she loves me more and more every single day. Those sentiments are hard for me to contest; the verifying facts are insurmountable.

How about more than thirty hours of labor with three failed epidurals culminating in a crash Cesarean section always followed with the "I would do it again in a heartbeat"? How about all those long nights when I was less than accommodating to a normal wake-sleep cycle? How about the fact that Papa, quite frankly, is not here as much as all of us would like, meaning the tasks Mama must perform on a daily basis are quite voluminous? How about the fact that, on more than one occasion, I have re-gifted a meal on Mama and she never once has batted an eye? How about...Aww, truth be told this list could go on ad infinitum. In the end, all signs point to unadulterated, unabashed, pure love.

And so, with the power of the spacious Internet behind me, I would like to tell Mama "Thank you." While it is difficult for me to convey at times, please know that I appreciate all that you have done for me to date and all that you will do for me in the days, months, and years to come. Just know that every time I gaze at you with my beautiful blue eyes and that toothy grin I recognize your love and send it back to you in full. I love you, Mama; you truly are the best.

Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers out there. You are all appreciated.


Carter

Someone in heaven is always looking after me...

Slumber Party...

Greetings and salutations,

Over the last several months I would like to think that I have developed a certain rapport with you, the faithful and diligent readers of my blog dissertations. Collectively, you have given me some of your exceptionally valuable time and attention. In return I have granted you a virtual all-access pass into my world. It is that rapport, that camaraderie, that I would like to summon this evening. It seems that I have pulled a fast one on Mama, and I implore you to keep this one under wraps.

As usual, this introduction bears a further explanation. My intelligence sources alerted me to the fact that Mama and Grandma were anticipating a delectable dining experience this evening prior to Grandma's return home. As such, they tucked me into my crib at the usual hour of seven o'clock and awaited Papa's return from the hospital. Being the astute observer of both patterns and human nature, I expected this turn of events and that which was to come. As expected, a short time later Papa entered our domicile after a long day at the "office". Mama then prepared herself for a peaceful meal and accordingly departed. It was precisely at that moment that I executed my carefully laid plan.

You see, Papa has been putting in some fairly lengthy hours at the hospital of late. The hours themselves do not appear to be taxing for Papa; however, when those hours transpire has presented a bit of an issue. He departs for the hospital at 4:40 a.m. and often does not return until 7:00 p.m. or later. This pretty much encompasses every waking moment that I have on a given day. Thus, with this weekday schedule and the additional weekend work requirements, quality time with Papa has been cut significantly of late. Consequently, I thought it appropriate to clear a little extra time from my own calendar to address the matter.

Unbeknownst to Mama, I promptly alerted Papa of my presence after her departure. As he always does, Papa checked as to my current predicament only to find me sitting and grinning at him as only I can do. This was not the time for subtleties; I let him know that I was all about spending time with him. He was the proud recipient of one of my patented Carter smiles (available for advertising any number of products, if you are still interested). Papa cannot resist such a look. As such, the festivities commenced shortly thereafter.

And festive it was; we had a ball, both literally and figuratively. We played with Alice, crawled about the living room, read a book (Bob the Builder, if you must know), and of course, we took some batting practice. For those of you keeping score at home, I had six home runs, three triples, five doubles, and six singles. Skeptics will insist that my numbers are a reflection of the steroid era, a product of pure and artificial inflation due to performance enhancement. Rest assured that my achievements are legit; my urine is available for testing quite frequently if one is so inclined. You might have to wring out a diaper or two, but it is there for the taking.

Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Needless to say, Papa and I had a wonderful slumber party. It was so good to catch up with him and just relax. As I always say (although people often glare at me because they remark that I am difficult to comprehend at times), "Family first." I think the sacrifice of a little snoozing is more than a fair swap. And while I neglected to share my intentions with Mama, I think she will understand. But just to be safe, if you could keep this matter between you and I, it might be best if I shared the news with her first. Thanks; I knew I could count on you.

Carter

Someone in heaven is always looking after me...

Entourage...

Greetings and Salutations,

Please cease with the inflammatory reply e-mails that are already being drafted after merely viewing the photograph accompanying today's blog. I can see them now, "Carter, why is there a Christmas photograph on your well-articulated and aesthetically pleasing blog website?" As with all of my occasionally tangential musings, there is a reason for my selection. Today's carefully considered picture is indicative of my medical entourage. As I have come to realize, I am extremely blessed. Not only do I have my health for which to be thankful but I also have my health care for which to be grateful. Please allow me to explain.

Access to health care is one of the most hotly contested topics in contemporary politics. Many of our compatriots struggle to secure the medical attention that they desperately need. I, on the other hand, do not have such an issue. Truthfully, I had taken this fact for granted until earlier this week. Myself and a cleverly concocted viral entity crossed paths, leaving me on the short end of the stick, so to speak. After developing a shaking fever and some rather unappealing emesis, I was not in good spirits. Even the traditional fare of beef and gravy with rice no longer sounded appealing (particularly after the aforementioned emesis). And then my own personal health care entourage arrived on the scene.

Like an angel, Mama comforted me exquisitely. Despite the fact that I insisted on vomiting on her multiple times, she hugged me and cared for me in spectacular fashion. It seems to me that a mother who is a nurse is an amazing combination. Papa...Well, Papa assessed the situation and prescribed the appropriate medications. The initial round of oral Tylenol was abruptly rejected by my gastrointestinal tract. That left only one route of entry, one that I only thought served as an exit point. Needless to say, I was caught off guard by that rather unsavory introduction. But as is occasionally the case, Papa diagnosed the situation correctly and the administration of said suppository made me feel remarkably better. In the span of twelve brief hours or so I was back to my chipper self, thanks in large part to my fine personal medical team.

In retrospect, and I guess prospectively as well, it seems that I have around the clock, 24/7 medical coverage. I find it difficult to believe that many youngsters are as blessed as I am to have such marvelous health benefits. Consequently, as I have stated before, if you have the means I highly recommend that you secure a health care pair.


Carter

Someone in heaven is always looking after me...