Let’s Expand These Percentiles!

Tags

Humor, neil patrick harris, parenting, percentiles

January 29, 2016

In fourth grade we were given a set of standardized exams called the Iowa Tests.  The reason I remember these was that I scored very well on them.  I had no idea that these test results would represent my peak of academic achievement, which is one reason they’re burned into my memory.  The other is that we were scored by percentile.  Across the board in english, math, reading comprehension, etc., I scored in the 90th percentile, which when explained to me, meant that I scored better than 90% of the people taking the exam.

(Where have you gone super smart Steve?)

Of course I’ve never found out why they called them the Iowa Tests.  Maybe I was just smarter than 90% of the kids my age in Iowa.  Looking back on how my intelligence regressed that might be more the case.  Yet, for a year or two I experience a Camelot like period of time.  For one brief shining moment I could bask in the misplaced thought that I was smarter than the majority of the people around me. I love the percentile system of grading.  Getting an A or a 100 on a test is great but it doesn’t tell you where you stand in relation to others.  A percentile will tell you how many people are better or worse than you, and honestly, isn’t that what matters?  Don’t most of us want to be able to claim we’re at least in the better half?

(Some of us might be PCs but we all want to be Macs.)

We want the same for our kids.  We them to be in the higher percentile.  Lots of people have seen my babies and said, “Oh my God!  They are the cutest babies I’ve ever seen!”  I appreciate their kindness but I doubt their sincerity.  That’s just what people feel they need to say.  I’d actually be happier with an honest assessment.  If someone saw the boys and said, “Wow!  Those babies are cuter than 71% of the babies I’ve seen” I’d be delighted.

My favorite part of taking the babies to the Doctor is when they show me percentiles.  Charles is in the 77th percentile for height and 44th percentile for weight.  Arthur is 58th in height and only 20th in weight.  That means, so far, my kids are taller and thinner than the competition.  Sounds like a recipe for success to me!!

(The doctor gave me the illustration of what Arthur is likely to look like on his first day joining the work force.)

But height and weight is as far as they go.  Can’t we expand these percentiles to give parents the information they really want to know?  Can’t we develop a test that allows a nameless, faceless group of people to tell us where are kids stand in terms of the things that really matter to us?  For instance.

Cuteness

I’d like to think my kids are above the 75th percentile in cuteness.  Of course I have to think about what I’m saying in practical terms.  Did half of my genetic code produce children that are better looking than more than 75% of the people in America? It’s a tough call.  I look around my office and don’t put myself in the beautiful person category.  It’s possible that my wife’s genes overrode mine.  I cling to that hope.  BUT, if it turned out my kids were only in the 2oth percentile for attractiveness then I could at least focus on making them really really smart to compensate for what they might lack in the looks department.  Do you see how valuable these tests would be!?

(This guy isn’t much of a looker, but the ladies dig his brain.)

Intelligence

I’ve suspected that Charles was smart for a while now.  I think it was the way he obsessively studied his hands like he was on an LSD trip since he was only a few weeks old.  He’s smart enough to figure out every toy I throw his way and has the wits to always steal the best toys from Arthur.  Just the other day he sucked down an entire peach packet in less than a minute and promptly took the other peach packet right out of his brother’s hands.  Sharp as a tack that one.  I’m going to put Charles in the high 90th percentile.

Arthur on the other hand.  Well, let’s just say he was stupid enough to have his lunch stolen right from his hands.  He may very well be a genius, but if I could get a percentile that tells me otherwise I could get a head start on teaching him how to succeed with limited brain capacity.  We all know how possible that is.

Gas

This might just be me, but I’d really like to know if my kids fart more than others.  I assume they are in a very high percentile in this category, as five minutes go by when they don’t let a loud smelly one rip.  And at this point I’m proud to be able to tell the difference between the sound of a fart and a poop.  That’s a skill I never thought I’d become proficient at but I’d put myself in the 98th percentile when it comes to knowing whether I have to change a diaper or just light a match.  If only they had a game show called “Fart Or A Poop” I’d clean up!!

Just a little off topic, is there a reason why my farts have started to smell just like my infant children’s?  I mean, exactly like them.  I can’t remember drinking formula or eating sweet potato corn and apple puree, so I’m wondering what the reason for this phenomenon is. I can only assume my wife has changed up their diet while I’m at work.

Other specific situational percentiles I’d like to see.

• Dropping a favorite item repeatedly
• Pooping at inconvenient moments
• Outfit changes per day based on drool and puke
• Looking at parents in a judging manner
• Moving in a manner that makes just one sock come off at all times

To sum up, I’d like some organization to give me some hard numbers that either shows me that my kids are better than others OR lets me get a head start on the combating their deficiencies.  I can’t do anything about height.  I don’t think I can anyway.

I’ll end by putting myself in the 60th percentile as a Dad.  I think I’m better but everyone hates a braggart.  As far as this post is concerned I’d put it in the 32nd percentile, but only because I included photos.

Least Favorite Child Results

You know how I know my boys are special.  Because although they received the whooping cough vaccine, which is 95% effective, they still got whooping cough.  That’s means they’re in the elite 5% of babies who laugh in the face of modern medicine.  Their sickness will be reflected in these results.

January 23 – Least Favorite is Arthur.  He got the whoop first.  We didn’t know what it was at first but he was patient X in the house.  As the spreader of the virus he’s the easy choice.

January 24 – Least Favorite is Arthur.  The doctor suspected he may have the whoop, despite being vaccinated.  Way to go, Arthur.

January 25 – Least Favorite is Charles.  Charles now has the whoop.  He’s a much worse patient than his brother.  Sucking the snot out his nose seems a lot like the waterboarding scenes I saw in Zero Dark Thirty.

January 26 – Least Favorite is Charles.  Arthur is not only a better patient but when he laughs he’s got that phlegmy chuckle that makes him sound like an old guy in a dark dive bar.  I find that charming.  Charles can’t compete with that.

January 27 – Least Favorite is Arthur.  Charles has developed a raspy voice that reminds me of Bruce Springsteen.  Sorry, Arthur.  No one can compete with the Boss.

January 28 – Least Favorite is Arthur.  Charles had a higher fever so I gave him pity points.

Total Days As Least Favorite Child

Charles – 96

Arthur – 92

Days Tied – 1

Days Since Neil Patrick Harris received my post and hasn’t responded – 181

Neil, I’d put your ability to contact me in the 1st percentile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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White Baby Problems!

Tags

Humor, neil patrick harris, parenting, Racism, White Baby Problems, White People Problems

January 22, 2015

I don’t like to admit it but I think I’m a little racist.  You know how I know this?  Every now and then I hold the door open for someone who’s black or let a black person cut into traffic in front of me and I think to myself, “Isn’t it refreshing that I’m not racist.”  I’m pretty sure patting myself on the back for being civil to someone who’s black is a sign that I have some work to do on myself.

(Here, let me hold this door open for you as my reparation for hundreds of years of oppression!)

I always took comfort knowing that one of my best friends, Christy (not really her name) was black.  Not only are we good friends, we even lived in the same house for over five years.  How racist could I be?  Considering my relationship with Christy, I thought I was a bastion of liberal progressive thinking.  As a plus, Christy was also into women.  She was checking off a lot of boxes for me! Then I found out something about Christy I wasn’t prepared for.  She’s not black!!  Her heritage is Hispanic, German and English.  When your ONLY black friend actually turns out to be German I think that qualifies as an epic fail.  I won’t be surprised if I eventually learn that her girlfriend is really just a guy who looks like a feminine hipster.

(This isn’t a photo of my friend Christy but it may as well be.)

I grew up in a very white suburb of Boston. The first black person I ever saw was my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Stark.  It was later explained to me that Mrs. Stark wasn’t black.  She was a dark skinned Italian women. So I guess she betrayed me even before Christy did.

(This is what a black person looked like to 5 year old Steve. Although Mrs. Stark was no Sophia Loren)

To sum it up, I’m giving myself extra credit for being polite and friendly to black people and I don’t have one close black friend.  I feel that, at least in my family, the racism gets watered down in each generation. I’m much more enlightened than my parents, who were much more enlightened than theirs when it comes to race. I’m not sure how many family generations it took until we’ve arrived at a place where I can say that I sat down, watched and thoroughly enjoyed Straight Outta Compton. Somewhere I have an Irish great great grandfather rolling around in his grave at the thought of that.

 (Imagine this guy telling me in Irish brogue that I should go skipping and hand holding with Spike Lee as far as my taste in movies is concerned.)

Worrying that I’m racist sounds like a good example of a white person problem to me. It stands to reason then that my 8-month old twins could very well wind up dealing with white baby problems. They already have a few. Our Ford Explorer is not equipped with TVs in the back for their viewing pleasure. They have to share a play area at home. Of the two bouncy seats in the living room, one is clearly superior in terms of bells and whistles. All seem like white baby problems.

(It’s like Lord of The Flies in this play area.)

But, in a stroke of luck, one of their white baby problems has led to their salvation. Their Nanny kind of sucked at her job and was pretty expensive so we found a nearby daycare for them. Complaining about your Nanny is a classic white person/white baby problem. Luckily at this daycare there are more black kids than white kids. They’ve only been going there for two or three weeks but they’re already miles ahead of me in terms of exposure and thinking!

I went to pick them up with my wife one day last week. When we arrived a little black boy about two and half years old announced loudly in a somewhat disgusted tone that Arthur had “caca’d” the entire play area. It felt like he was inferring that while he still wore a diaper he had never been as irresponsible as Arthur in letting one so carelessly rip. I immediately realized that letting this kid shape my son in certain areas would be good for both of us. Arthur has found a mentor. And he’s black!  His refreshing bluntness about Arthur even made me wonder for a moment if he was old enough to by MY new black friend.

I’ve also been informed that Charles’ best friend at daycare is a black girl a few months older than he is. I’m not sure how I feel about Charles getting involved with older girls but I admire and applaud his dipping his cute toes into the diversity pool when it comes to friendship whether it’s romantic or platonic.  If their relationship moves to another level we’ll all have to sit down and watch Look Who’s Coming To Dinner.

So, my son’s biggest biggest white baby problem is that their father doesn’t have a black friend, which is something I need to solve. It would be great if an app like Tinder existed for white people looking for a black buddy. Ebony Buds for Ivory Dudes? Too long a name.

If there are any black people who read this blog and are looking to add a white friend to their roster please let me know.  Of course considering my experience with Christy and my kindergarten teacher you’ll understand if I ask for some sort of proof.

Least Favorite Child Results

This will be the quickest tally to date.  It’s been six days since my last post and Arthur easily took Least Favorite Child honors every day.  His refusal to sleep at night is bad for him and he’s decided he’s taking everyone else along for the ride.  His loud crying, whining every hour on the hour from midnight until 4:30am is like living with that constantly drunk Real World cast member who get way too emotional.

Total Days As Least Favorite Child

Charles – 94

Arthur – 90

Days Tied – 1

Days Since Neil Patrick Harris received my post and hasn’t responded – 174

What if Neil never really received my post about him?  These are the thoughts I cling to.

Read it here, Neil.

https://myleastfavoritechildtoday.wordpress.com/2015/07/15/expectations-for-my-gay-baby/

 

 

Should I Move To Manitowoc?

Tags

Humor, Making of a Murderer, Manitowoc, parenting

January 15, 2016

Like millions of people I’ve watched Making of a Murderer but I feel I’ve come away with something others haven’t.  I want to move to Manitowoc County, Wisconsin.  I’m tired of living in a city where I work with Ivy League graduates and people with an endless drive to succeed.  I want to live among the simple folk of America’s heartland.  I want to live with the idiots.

 

(When asked by a reporter whose baby he was holding, Avery responded with a smile, “I don’t know.”  These are my people!)

I’ve never been one of the smartest people where I live.  I haven’t been the dumbest either (most of the time), but I’d like to experience the thrill of being thought of as brainy.  I’m not bold enough to say I’d be THE smartest person in Manitowoc.  I’d be the type of guy the residents would see walking on the other side of the street and one would say to the other, “I had a beer with Steve Hurley the other night.  That’s one sharp fella.”

(“I lost 20 dollars playing Jeopardy at the bar with that Steve Hurley.  Smart as a whip that one.)

You might be thinking what my wife said when I told her we should move.  How could I ever live with these people?  Where would I ever find any intellectual stimulation?  Doesn’t bother me in the least.  If I need to find someone to interest me I can find them on the internet.  And I think we’re all forgetting something very important.  Happy Days was based in Wisconsin.  That means people as colorful as Fonzie, Cha Chi or Ralph Malph are likely only about an hours drive away from Manitowoc!

 (Were these jurors 1-5 in the Avery case?)

As far as my sons are concerned I think they’ll find being bigger fish in a smaller pond to their liking.  They won’t have to fight the day-to-day insecurities of high school life when their peers are wearing acid washed jeans and sporting questionable haircuts.  And with some at home tutoring to supplement what they learn in the educational system they’ll be #1 and #2 in their class.  I don’t care what town you’re from.  Having that on your resume is going to get you a college scholorship! Ka ching!!

(Step aside Manitowoc High Valedictorian.  The Hurley Boys are on their way!)

My wife is a dog trainer, so the move will be fine for her.  She can do that anywhere.  The question in my mind was, what would I do for work?  The answer was shown to me in episode eight of the series. After a court decision is delivered the camera crew follows members of the Avery family out of the courthouse.  I saw my future across the street from the municipal building.

This is the Courthouse Pub.  I’m going to find out who owns it and buy it from them.  Hopefully they’re not aware that they are located in the best area possible for a bar.  The place must be packed constantly.  Everyone leaving a court house needs a drink.  If you won a big case, you celebrate with drinks.  If a family member just got put away for a life sentence, you need to drink.  If you just paid a huge parking fine, you probably shouldn’t, but you need a stiff drink or two.  When I take this place over, I’m going to hire waitresses and dress them up as slutty bailiffs and have themed nights for felons, lawyers, judges, you name it.

 (Show us your paid parking ticket for a free shot of Jager!)

If I know the people of Mantiwowoc, like I think I do after watching ten episodes of a cable series, then I think this bar is going to be wildly popular.  Especially if I put a couple of pool tables in.

So that’s my dream. Move to Manitowoc and become Steve, the sharp as a tack bar owner of the wildly popular Courthouse Pub serving the moronic chain smoking public. My wife is the local dog trainer. My sons are the top of their high school class, dating some girls they met in nearby Madison, Wisconsin who are a lot like Lori Beth, Richie Cunningham’s girlfriend, and will attend the University of Wisconsin on full scholarships.

Someone once said “If you want to seem smart, hang around dopes.”

I can’t remember who actually said it.  It might have been me.

Least Favorite Child Results

January 9 – Least Favorite is Charles.  Charles was fine, but Arthur impressed the hell out of me when he made a farting noise with his mouth while actually letting out a loud fart.  It was a sound effect worthy of Michael Winslow in the Police Academy movies.

January 10 – Least Favorite is Arthur.  Arthur really makes you work for a smile.  I spent what seemed like two hours ticking him, saying peekaboo and singing one of his favorite songs to get the slightest smirk.  There are days I wish he was an easier audience.

January 11 – – Least Favorite is Charles.  His teething is much more extreme than Arthur’s.  For some reason this results in his having the runs forcing multiple wardrobe changes throughout the day.  He wears more outfits than a runway model at this point.

January 12 – Least Favorite is Arthur.  Arthur has a way of needing the most attention at crucial points of TV shows I’m watching and it’s really annoying.  You know why our parents were harder on us?  Because they didn’t have DVRs.

January 13 – Least Favorite is Arthur.  He gave me many disapproving looks.  That’s all it takes some days to get this honor.

January 14 – Least Favorite is Charles.  He decided to wait right until my wife and I were heading out the door to let out a poop that completely dipped him in poo.

Total Days As Least Favorite Child

Charles – 94

Arthur – 84

Days Tied – 1

Days Since Neil Patrick Harris received my post and hasn’t responded – 168

It occurs to me I should at least provide a link for my tribute to Neil should he ever see his photo on my blog.  Can I make it any easier on you, Neil?!!

https://myleastfavoritechildtoday.wordpress.com/2015/07/15/expectations-for-my-gay-baby/

 

Who Will Buy Me Some Underwear?

Tags

babies, Humor, parenting, underwear

January 8, 2016

Are you ready for a very real and extremely raw confession?  I have never purchased underwear for myself.  Not once in my life have I paid a single cent for a boxer, brief or undergarment of any style.

How have I gotten away with this?  I started like everyone else, having my Mom buy them for me in my youth.  Then as a young adult who clearly couldn’t be trusted with any responsibility my mother continued to buy them for me, often in bulk for my birthday or at Christmas. In my youth I knew lots of people who my age who considered getting underwear on Christmas kind of a jip gift wise but not me.  I thought the perfect gift would be 365 pairs of underwear.  Every day I would put a new pair on and then discard them in the trash at the end of the day like a King!!

By the time I got married, my mother was still buying my underwear with no intention of stopping.  My mother in-law was obviously cut from the same cloth as she started sending me lots of underwear on gift giving occasions.  Free underwear I didn’t have to shop for was coming at me in every direction!  For 15 years of marriage I lived in an underwear Camelot like golden age.  It was like the “Roaring 20s” for bloomers!!

(From 2000 to 2015 I was the Jay Gatsby of boxer briefs)

I had no idea the market was about to crash.  That’s because no one told me a very important but seldom revealed fact.  Once you have kids YOU get stiffed for presents during the Holidays.  Sure, the same people will send you gifts but they won’t be for you. Your kids will be swimming in toys and clothing.

And you know what you get?

A giant box full of nothing.  I appreciate gifts for my kids.  I realize they need lots of things and the generosity of others has aided the financial burden they present.  But I really need underwear!!

Is my wife going to buy my underwear for me?  I hope so, but she’s got a pretty packed schedule taking care of two 7 month kids who have absolutely no respect for anyone’s time.  I could ask her but is giving my wife an additional responsibility right now a wise move?  How much will I enjoy my underwear if I have to hear my wife bitching about my inability to do anything for myself?  They won’t seem as snug if I’m getting balled out.

(The nice thing about this blog is posting this photo and imaging this is what I actually look like in my underwear.  Thanks, Getty Images!)

I’m coming to grips with the fact that I’m going to have to buy my own underwear.  It’s a milestone I never thought I’d reach and oddly the first one that tells me that I’m a parent.  If there are any regular underwear buyers out there who can give me tips before I go out to make my my purchase please share them with me.  As I’ve never done this before I’m not even sure if there’s haggling involved.

Please help me avoid this future!

Least Favorite Child Results

It’s a new year, but Charles and Arthur are still in their first year so the count continues.  Who will win the year as Least Favorite?  Charles currently enjoys a comfortable lead but I think Arthur is intent on making up some ground.

January 1 – Least Favorite is Arthur.  My wife and I made to midnight to celebrate.  It was quite an accomplishment to stay up this late.  Meanwhile Arthur decided to ring in the New Year at 2am, 3:30am and at 5am with lots of needy whining.

January 2 – Least favorite is Arthur.  One of Arthur’s new things is waking up periodically through the night.  His other is the contemptuous look on his face once he wakes up.  I hate morning too, but at least I plaster on a fake smile.  If you got to start the day in a bouncy seat is this how you would look?

(Best guess on his first words are currently, “What the f*ck are you looking at?)

January 3 – Least Favorite is Charles.  Charles is bigger and moves quicker than his brother.  When placed in his play area Charles sometimes feels the best toy options are his brothers ears or his flowing mane of hair.  I may as well stamp “Fisher Price” on Arthur’s body somewhere.

January 4 – Least Favorite is Arthur.  Three poops and three different outfits needed after each.  Arthur laughs in the face of diapers guaranteeing containment.

January 5 – Least Favorite is Charles.  This is for poop related reasons as well.  Charles refuses to stop moving, even during a diaper change.  This means if he’s pooped, he likes to roll on the changing table and create a brown Jackson Pollack masterpiece.

January 6 – Least Favorite is Arthur.  Continued late night wake up calls followed by nasty morning attitude.

January 7 – Least Favorite is Arthur.  See above.

Total Days As Least Favorite Child

Charles – 91

Arthur – 81

Days Tied – 1

Days Since Neil Patrick Harris received my post and hasn’t responded – 161