Today is a little day of rest around Casa del T-bone, as me and the Cutlet have worn ourselves out every morning at area playgrounds. He is really getting the hang of his bike, and I'm pretty sure that in a matter of weeks his training wheels will be gone and he'll be flying along the bike paths even faster. Yikes!

In other news, I started a photography blog in coordination with my photo biz. Check it out at www.toddovermanphotography.blogspot.com. Yahoo (my business site's host) offers a Movable Type blog, but I can't get all the functions to work properly, so I gave up for now. Blogger sure has come a long way since I hopped onto it in March 2003 with my first T-bone venture (since deleted from the ether). I never thought I'd have more than one blog going at a time, so we'll have to see if this one goes back to dying a slow death. I know there hasn't been much compelling stuff to read here, but I swing by to give it a little CPR now and then out of habit.

Then again, I used to have only one e-mail address. Now I've got my old Hotmail account, a Yahoo account, a photo business account and one for my part-time public relations work. Even with all that, I can still remember my parent's old phone number from 20 years ago. It's all good!

The Cutlet is staying home with me these two weeks before he starts kindergarten. We balanced his need for continuity at preschool with the fact that he's ready to move on, and saving a little money is a nice side effect. I'm still working part-time from home, which is no big deal with today's modern technology. I'm electronically leashed and available via Blackberry and laptop, a blessing and a curse, and can do all functions of my current job just about anywhere I've got Internet and a place to perch.

While I didn't finish much around the house, I did mop the kitchen, vacuum the living room, grill barbecue chicken and for the first time corn on the cob (juicy and delicious!) and I took a nearly 2-hour bicycle ride, logging 22.5 miles. Now, if I can continue that streak as well as finish the Neverending Bathroom Project That Has Lasted Almost Seven Years. And market the photo business on the side.

The Cutlet's teacher at preschool left her job for a better one, and that has meant the most fun he's had has been watching movies nearly all day. Not sure I want to spend what we're spending to have him watch movies; we could triple our home movie collection for that amount. So at issue is either pulling him out of preschool for the next two weeks before he starts kindergarten or leaving them there, giving me the freedom to work.

Pros
• If he's at home with me, we'll spend tons (maybe too much) time together.
• The obvious and welcome money savings could translate into bank-account breathing room as well as more new school clothes for the Cutlet.
• We could go out and have a blast like we did the early part of last week.

Cons
• If he's at home with me, it will be difficult to show my possible future employers that I'm working hard and can be counted on (out of sight may mean out of mind). Besides one staff meeting a week, however, most of my work can be done off-site. It would just be harder to find the time to work from home, too.
• The Cutlet's favorite food is pizza, which is good once a week but not so good for my waistline more than that!

What would you do?

A child is born, and the big people in its life are the heroes. They work hard in those early weeks and months to ensure comfort and reassure that the helpless little bundle is safe, fed, clean, warm and feels loved. A parent's duties never really change that much, but the attitudes sure do.

As the child grows, the leash is let out a bit. There is more independence to roam, romp and play. The parent worries less about the small stuff, because it's clear by then that the baby may have looked breakable but is quite stalwart against minor mishaps. The child starts school and is in the trust of others. He has a mind of his own and his own ideas about what he wants to do at that moment and the next. The leash is let loose a bit more.

With two boys, one who will turn 6 later this year, and the other who will turn 2, we parents are still the heroes. I mean, we are heroes who have to spank and mete discipline on moody bottoms. Yet when happiness and fun prevails and we're all in "play" mode, we're still seen as pretty cool. I have no illusions that this will continue. In fact, I know there will come a day when the Petite Filet and I are the absolutely uncoolest people on the planet. We're bracing for that, but being a hero isn't in a parent's core duties.

While under our care, they should feel safe, be fed, get clean, remain warm and always feel loved. That will hold true when some trampy girl has broken their hearts, when they wear shoes as big or bigger than mine, when they're shaving every day, when they stink more than a sty full of sloppy pigs. We must provide and love them when they seem unlovable. It's what we're here for.

To the rest of the world, those who are parents themselves and those who aren't, the whole process is not that cool. I mean it's awesome, but it's not cool. The difference is that while it's among the best blessings in the world to raise a child, there is nothing remotely hip about it. No matter what social class, education level, walk of life a person is, the coolness is effectively sucked out of them forever. This is true, too, because nobody is half as cool as they think they are. Most of us are now operating in a coolness deficit and are kidding ourselves that we have any cool to draw upon.

The lack of coolness highlights a few important points:

• Good parents live for their children. The best parents find a little time to live for themselves, too. Besides, if we are to even feel sort of cool, we need to spend special time with our significant others, dressed in something other than baby puke, doing the things we want to do. Regular dates are essential (and rare). Strive for them!

• Don't ever worry about what other people think about you. That includes parents or in-laws who know everything. They've been operating in a coolness deficit for years.

• As mentioned earlier in my little Parenthood series, if you must own cars, pick ones that are most practical for your family. If that means your car is "cool," that's not a problem. But don't sacrifice cool for usefulness. Fewer companies build minivans nowadays, which is a shame. The sliding doors alone make them worth five times their weight in gold. In reality, it's cool to embrace your parental uncoolness. Our garage holds a minivan and a station wagon. Do the math! We're lame. But to me, the father who insisted on keeping his Mustang GT and hauls his two little kids around looks foolish and selfish (he may be neither, we're talking appearances here).

• Men: don't be afraid to carry the diaper bag. Chances are you'll get to help pick out something that's closer to a tackle box than the goofy bags of yore. However, it will do well for your manhood to just pick out the fuzzy one with the big brown teddy bears on it.

• Everyone: diapers really aren't that bad. I've heard tales of gagging over a little poo, especially if it is an interesting color or toxic aroma. But this time in a child's life is designed so that you can say annoying things in earshot of their friends or girl/boyfriends: "I used to change your diapers! You get in this house right now!"

• Everyone: potty training is da bomb. But new parents aren't always told that even if your wee one wees on his or her own, when it's time to poo you might still have to wipe a poopy bottom. Such an episode while dining out as a family will spoil your appetite sometimes. Bonus: it's a diet aid!

• The only thing that approaches cool when you are a parent is making as much time for your children as possible. Like mentioned, all of it is awesome. Even the supposed bad times, like when Junior is throwing a fit at Wal-Mart because he is desert-thirsty and might die if he doesn't get something sugary to drink right now or he's going to roll around on the floor in front of everybody and continue to yell. *whew* Like a thunderstorm, it will pass. And the clouds will part. And the sun will shine again.

• There are babies in the world who are not planned by their parents. But they had nothing to do with the act that conceived them. They deserve to feel safe, be fed, get clean, remain warm and always feel loved.

Isn't that what we all want?

Yes, that's my desk at home. No, I don't always have all three computers churning away at the same time. Usually it's just two.

Like any working parent knows, it's really hard to strike a balance. I'm failing miserably, and right now my office job is only two days a week. Well, I am technically on call all the time and painfully connected via Blackberry and laptop. Think of it as having an electronic umbilical cord, but momma only feeds me for 20 hours a week. And I end up working three days if you string all my projects completed at home together.

I should be using the other three days in the week to:

• Grow my photography business through a whirlwind of targeted and brilliant marketing.
• Spend more time with each of the boys individually, have a Cutlet Day and a Riblet Day just to have nothing but fun. Well, Riblet Day would also include diapers.
• Finish the long and growing list of home-improvement projects that I used to put off because "I had a full-time job."
• Clean the house like there's no tomorrow. The thing is, there is a tomorrow and the house will be just as dirty then.
• Learn to play guitar.
• Learn how to be a better cook.
• Get into excellent physical shape so that my soon-to-be 35-year-old carcass will once again feel and look a tad more like I was turning 25.
• Earnest study of the Bible.
• Relax.
• Keep looking for a full-time job in case the part-time's morph into full-time never materializes.
• Write one of the 12 novels rattling around in my head. Yeah, right.

I do some of these things, and shirk others. It's hard to be motivated when I do have some "free" time to be doing these things. When I'm swamped with everything else, it would be better to use my time more wisely. Instead, I procrastinate.

But looking at life overall, I do spend quite a bit of time with both boys, together and individually. We play. We talk. We throw things in the house when the Petite Filet is in another room. We laugh. We romp. We wish it wasn't 200 degrees outside, where we'd do all of it in a more natural setting (brown grass is natural).

The arching point is, don't put off until tomorrow what you should be doing today. Projectwise, I need to get it in gear. But I need to find new ways to enjoy my children, and my wife, because at least two out of three people will eventually grow up, move out and move on. Now is the best time. It won't last forever.

The Riblet has always been a lot better about laying down and going to sleep once he's gently plopped down in his crib. That gives us some hope. But it may only because he's resigned to sleeping because he's "trapped." I wonder if given essentially free reign of the house in a bed if he'd order 20 pizzas, take one of the cars out for a spin or decide to redecorate the inside of the refrigerator.

Eventually, we'll have to redecorate the Riblet's room, too. When we were expecting him, we took our former guest room and gave it to the Cutlet. That left his old room as the nursery, with jungle animals on the wall and whatnot. We like painting and decorating, but it will be sad when that chapter in our lives is over in such a tangible way. No more cute little giraffe watching over the Riblet anymore. Instead, battling Ninja Turtles? Sports figures? Airplanes? No theme at all?

We just know that the Riblet is growing up, too. There's not much baby left in him, and the crib won't be along forever. I have no doubt it won't be the last crib that graces our house, probably that mythical house in the future. I'll be looking down into the crib and forget how many years have passed as I watch a grandchild sleep. Now that will be freaky!

Last week, we used up his last "vacation" week at preschool. He was home with me the first three days, and then on Thursday he, the Riblet and Petite Filet boarded a plane to see Gma and Gpa for a few days. Here's how me and the Cutlet filled our three days together:

Monday
• Went to a playground and played for more than an hour. He was definitely "all boy" then, climbing on every climbable surface like he did when he was a fearless little toddler. It was great to see. And he wanted me to climb every surface, which I dutifully did. Was only slightly sore the next day!
• Went home, got his bicycle, and rode around at a park near our house for more than an hour. He's still got training wheels (something we'll remedy when the weather cools), but still managed to take a few tumbles. He got up and without hesitation started riding again.
• Went home to chill out for a little bit.
• Then when to Inedible Pizza Incredible Pizza, a megafunland that features all-you-can-manage pizza and other victuals, arcade games, a bowling alley, go-karts and more! We made the usual rounds, ate the usual stuff and had a blast.

Tuesday
• Most of the day was spent recovering from Monday.

Wednesday
• My mom brought over the Cutlet's 9-year-old cousin. We ate at Chili's (my nephew's choice) and then went to Leapin' Lizards, a local indoor bouncehousepalooza (must everything still be a palooza these days?). The two of them bounced around on every bounceable surface until they were ready to collapse. My mom and I were about ready to collapse just following them around. If you go somewhere like this, you'll be confronted with a long list of rules for liability reasons. Just remember the two most important: no running and don't puke on any of the equipment. Mission accomplished!
• Help the PF pack, collect a few toys for the kids to take and relax a little.

There was a time when the Cutlet was absolutely fearless about doing dangerous and boyish things. Then he became timid, a temporary condition replaced now by copious doses of crazy. Seeing him do so many boy things at the lake last month restored much of our confidence that he won't turn out to be a wet noodle when he grows up. It's a true joy to behold. While he has his shy moments ... as do most adults ... he is breaking out of his shell. School will help him grow up a little. Might be tough in the beginning, but the transition from preschool won't be that bad.

I guess I'd better clean up the house before this afternoon, when I get to bring them all home again. A thorough scrub isn't worth it, as the debris-filled tornado that is my family will make themselves all too much at home with all their dirty laundry.

Nothing changes a couple's lifestyle more than having a child. For many, that also means it's time to trade in the Single Person Car or the Young Married Couple Car. What are those, you might ask? Aha! I have examples from my own life.

Fast forward about two years into our wedded bliss, and we start playfully looking for a new car for her. She has a really great day at the hair salon and we start looking at sports cars. We test drive a few beasts, like a Camaro SS, but settle on a Mustang GT because it's got a (very slightly) more practical backseat. You know, just in case we have kids in the next few years.

Fast forward to another year, and it is discovered that my seed has planted itself into her fertile pasture. The Cutlet is on his way, and the Mustang seems more and more like a mistake. It's got tons of airbags and cupholders, but the "backseat" is a prop to be used for gym bags rather than tots. An infant seat will not fit in the rear-facing position. At all. So we start trying to find something more practical while trying to unload the 'Stang. This all becomes a bigger priority when, hours after the Cutlet was born, the PF turns to me and says she can't go back to work. We had talked about this before and I was fully supportive of the idea. But quitting her job meant the car payment would need to go.

We struggled with a solution, but the PF's dad saved us by offering up his pickup truck and helping us ditch the sporty car and it's money-sucking habits. So not the most practical family vehicle, but for three it wasn't so bad. I end up driving the truck for a few years; an infant seat does in fact fit in the back. We even took it on a few long road trips. No airbags for the wee one, but two up front and a plethora of cup holders. No car payment sealed the deal.

Short story long, the Rodeo started to show its age and mileage, having traveled beyond 150,000 miles. The PF started working again after the Cutlet was nearly two. He needed to be around other kids and she needed more adult time. It was my turn to look for a newer car. We initially liked the idea of a small, four-door pickup truck. I also liked the Subaru Outback station wagon for its safety features and better gas mileage. It just so happened that a Subaru dealer in Dallas had a used truck like I liked. We test-drove it, and had the same conclusion we had driving similar models: it drove and rode like a truck, which is to say it would juggle your giblets until you felt like barfing. It also so happened they had a used Outback for less money. After driving both, we had a decision to make.

It took hours. The funniest conversation we had was right before we made a decision. Pointing to the wagon, which was parked next to the pickup, the PF said, "But this looks too much like a family car." I said, "But we are a family." The Subaru is parked in the garage right now, so common sense thankfully prevailed. It has been an awesome car and gets 10 mpg better than the truck. Plus, it's got a ton more airbags and cup holders. It's shorter overall height means putting a bicycle or kayak on the roof does not require an Olympic effort of gymnastics.

Fast forward again. This time the PF is preggars with the Riblet. The pickup isn't going to cut it. Our lifestyle is such that we both need family haulers. This time a family car is an easy sell. We drive a few things, and end up at our nearby Mazda dealer to look at two models. The CX-7 SUV is gorgeous and turbo-charged. We feel the tug of coolness (to be discussed later this week), but the Mazda 5 (a mini minivan) has more room and sliding doors. The 5 is sitting out in the driveway right now, so common sense won out again.

Here's my Top 5 Tips for buying a family car

1. If you are going to have more than one child, do not pass GO. Head directly to the minivan with sliding doors. If you are a parent, the last drop of coolness has oozed out of you forever. Just get the minivan. You'll thank me later.

2. If this is your first family car and you're expecting a wee one in your life, take an infant seat and see if there's room to mount it rearward-facing. This is the initial position in which your baby will ride. If it doesn't fit, move along to something else!

3. Leave some room for luggage and the 300 pounds of extra baby-related crap you will need. Chances are you will be taking a road trip to see far-flung relatives and show them your new arrival. Babies younger than 8 months are surprisingly portable, as the motion of the car will often put them to sleep for long stretches of time.

4. Find a car in which you can change a diaper, either in the back seat or on the tailgate/in the hatch. Not only on road trips, but there are times your little princess will make a load when there's nowhere good to stop and go into. Everything tends to look like a Truckstop From Hell when there are soiled pants in the equation. On a trip, McDonald's are often the most consistent in having infant-changing stations in their restrooms (in the men's rooms, too). But there's not always a McD's around. And it's questionable whether the pimply teen with the mop has ever cleaned the Plastic Tray of Bacteria.

5. Always buy the safest car you can afford, with all the latest airbag doohickies, antilock brakes, traction control and vehicle stability wigwags. And don't forget the cup holders. Not only for you, but see if a sippy cup will fit into the ones in the back ... those things are often larger than a usual cup. Some toddler and booster seats have cup holders, but until then you'll need something built in.

It should go without saying, but drive safely with your family in the car. You owe it to them. I remember carrying the Cutlet in his car seat out of the hospital, carefully nestling it into its base, and driving gingerly home. It was the longest 5-mile drive I'd ever done. I also urge you to drive carefully all the time. Your children don't want to lose a parent, and you will come across other parents driving their kids around, too. Wouldn't it be nice if we were all a little nicer on the road? This road-rage thing has got to be the most selfish, ass-brained excuse for being a jerk ever invented. Give me and everyone else a brake!

Almost that long ago, we were blessed with the first son who would create the pitter-patter of little feet running up and down the hallway. A cliche? Sure. But it's cloaked in a cocoon of awesome. That goes double for the second contributor of pitter-patter added nearly two years ago. And both of them being boys, there's the thunderous crash of toys downstairs and upstairs; the thunder from above will only grow louder once the little one is allowed to venture into the playroom over the garage.

The house is never clean, but if a house were to have emotions, ours would be happy. That's one thing we hope to pack with us wherever we live next. It's only a matter of time before the pitter-patter becomes the earnest sneaker-clad plodding of an elementary-school student (a matter of weeks). And then there are the thick hiking boots of adolescence schlepping through the house foraging for edibles. Then they'll leave. Then what? Silence?

Surely the silence will be paired with a cleaner house, as every surface two feet off the floor is covered in fingerprints. Parenthood is never having clean windows in your car, either. Particularly flanking the back seat, but somehow the Cutlet has managed to coat every window in the Petite Filet's family hauler with "evidence" of his presence. It was hard to do, but I finally cleaned his particular window in the car ... the one with the smiling stick-figure drawn onto the glass in crayon. It had been there for about eight months. More a frenzy of wanting to get the car clean onceandforall (ha!) than a loss of sentiment, the photos of the little cartoon didn't turn out.

Nobody has to take an exam and pass it before spawning a member of the next generation. Sadly, among the most important duties of the human race is possible through brief interludes that may or may not mean something. And then a few months later there's another person to love, care for and raise up. Some see the process as a miracle of science. Others' hearts are stirred with an existing or new belief, that something greater and bigger than ourselves is at play in the universe, even in control. Shame on any person who becomes a parent and isn't changed in some way, even while those changes are not universal across parenthood (or humanity). Whatever you believe, believe earnestly in something. You owe that to your children.

As for that clean, silent house we might live in someday, I hope it will be in a place where the boys will want to return. Often. Don't just write, drive back home! Bring that special girl you met. Your wife. And your little children. We'll have genuine hardwood floors in that house, and they will be pining for the pitter-patter, as the polished panes of glass will yearn for little sticky fingers to decorate them.

Time passes so quickly, even though a day is still 24 hours, that sometimes you wish there was an emergency brake with which to stop the world and bask in the good things.

The key is making the cars look like they're moving, even though they're not. The big Herbie car is actually radio control, but the logistics of snapping a shot exactly when I want to, with the car exactly where it needs to be, with a human model not flinching, blinking or cracking up ... the odds of getting it right boggles the mind. So I'm photo-faking it for now.

What do you think?

The following photo is one I've titled, "Captain Fatty goes kayaking." It's the only photo I didn't take because, well, it's of me. Thar he goes!

I don't have much time to post photos right now (I took nearly 200 during the past week, which we spent at my in-laws' Oklahoma lake house). But here's one of my favorites from July 4th. We set off a bunch of the pyrotechnic goodies, but so did the neighbors ... until nearly 11 p.m. It was like living inside a fireworks display. Crazy stuff!

• I didn't have to wear pants all week long.
• The Price is Right!
• Jeopardy!
• Judge Joe Mathis!
• The People's Court!
• Scouring the Internet for paying jobs
• Feeling a bit sorry for myself

All this has been replaced by
• Having to actually shower, shave and wear pants more than one day a week!
• Actually being chained to a desk for hours at a time. Insanity!
• People looking for me to contribute something meaningful. Whaddupwiddat?
• Money in the bank, baby!

For the contract job I'm working, I had to fill out some forms, rename my firstborn and take a drug test. Easy peasy, of course. But it's funny ... at the clinic waiting for my "turn" I wondered how many other people really had to pee. I mean, that's the only preparation you're really expected to do ... produce some liquid gold up to the black line on the cup. I'll tell you, at the risk of TMI, that I'm an over-achiever when it comes to the black line. I always go above and beyond! Gross!

Happy holiday, people. Go fourth and celebrate. Just be careful not to end up looking like this: