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Tape on the Door

My aunt passed away yesterday. It was another grim reminder of how short life is. How unexpected twists and turns come into our lives. How helpless and out of control we really are in this life. I got up early on this Saturday for my daughters softball game, only to learn it had been cancelled due to weather. So in another small twist I decided to do some spring cleaning in my bedroom, which I try to do at least every other spring… My girls continually draw me pictures and make cards, and tape them to my bedroom door. It makes a great collage of color crayon, construction paper, cotton balls, color by numbers and many other arts and crafts. Occasionally, I take them down when no one is looking and put them away in a drawer set aside for them, to make room for new and exciting works of art. This morning I decided to take them all down and start over; I mean, Fathers Day is right around the corner and I know there will be a horde of new cards and drawings to be taped up and it seemed like the best thing to do, while the girls are away. As I took down each color crayoned piece of paper and Sunday School art project down, I noticed that no matter how careful I was, the paint on the door was coming off from each piece of tape I peeled off. At first I was a little agitated by the marks left by the tape being removed, but as I continued on my quest to make the door a clean slate, I thought about each piece of tape on the door… If there are no marks on the door, if there are no broken crayons left on the floor, if there is nothing to clean up, if the tape is always where it is supposed to be in the kitchen drawer….there would be no one coloring. If there were no marks left on the door, that would mean that there are no pictures being drawn, no cards being made, the simplest expressions of a daughters love. Time is the only thing I can’t buy. There isn’t enough of it in the day. Time gets away from us. Time is spent and there are no refunds or credits due. Time flies. Time is of the essence. All that other “stuff” is just “stuff”…… let the door be marked up, let the floor have skateboard marks on it, don’t worry about stepping on broken crayons…let the tape marks on your door remind you of the time you have left to spend with those you love.


Have you ever seen an NFL football game where they have someone “Mic’d Up”? They put a small microphone on one of the players and let you hear everything he says before, during and after the game. It’s pretty cool to hear them talking during their games for sure.

While I was trying to grill out last night and simultaneously set up a slip and slide in the back yard for the girls to play on, I was thinking of what it would sound like if I was mic’d up one night when I have the kids at home. On a side note, slip and slides are pieces of junk… but anyway, Mic’d up dad… here is a one night transcript of what would have been heard, Names have been omitted to protect the seemingly innocent or to keep from embarrassing them:

“OK Get yalls bathing suits on and then come in here”

“Can you help her get her bathing suit on, please!”

“No, you can’t have a snack, we are going to eat in just a little while, I’m making the burgers right now”

“That’s not a bathing suit, that’s a…I don’t know what that is called, just go put a bathing suit on”

“No! you can’t have a little Debbie Cake for a snack, you had an ICEE on the way home, and we are going to eat in a minute”

“Why isn’t her bathing suit on yet”

“Close the door for crying out loud!”

“OK,Geez, just get one of those little bags of chips…”

“No, no one else is coming over…”

“Can someone get her bathing suit on????”

“I think your bathing suit is on backwards…”

“Yes there is a hamburger for each of you”

“No You don’t have to wear you’re arm floaties, I don’t think you can drown on a slip N slide”

“We aren’t eating it like that! That is what the hamburger looks like before we cook itl”

“Its the radio… I can’t MAKE “Chicken Fried” come on, it plays what it wants to”

“Wait! you have to put water on the slip n slide before you slide!”

“NO, you can’t turn the water on yet, the hose isn’t hooked up”

“Whoa…are you ok?”


“Shut the Door!!!”

“Dry off first!”

“OK Come eat dinner”

“Oh crap go get the cheese”

“No, I didn’t make french fries, eat some chips”

“Don’t touch that, its HOT!”

“How old is this cheese??”

“Didn’t I tell you your bathing suit top was on backwards?”

“You’re in the back yard, no one will see you change”

“Ouwww, crap that bacon is hot, I burnt my finger!!”

“No I don’t want to rub a pickle on the burn”

“Who left the door open??!!!”

“Hmmmm, the pickle DID take out the burn…”

“Yes your sharing that drink”

“MMMM… my burger is good too”

“Whatttt?? Geez…. Pee or Poop??”

“Just go over there in the grass and I will hose you off in a minute”

“If you’re not done eating, get off the fence!”

“Well just get off the fence anyway, our family is accident prone”

“You’re standing in an ant bed!”

“oops… I ripped the slip and slide when I picked it up”

“I know its a piece of junk…”

“Hey!! Don’t get your head stuck in there!”

“No… we aren’t going to Baskin Robbins tonight”

“Have some more pickles…”

“OK, clean up this trash”

“……..where did they go??…”

“….(typical unintelligible mumbling goes here)…..”

“SHUT THE STINKIN’ DOOR, we aren’t air conditioning the whole neighborhood!!”

“..(mumbles)…good grief, I’m my Dad…”

“What are yall doing in here?”

“geez, there’s dirt all over the floor in here now!!”

“I need a maid”

“ok, you need a bath”

“I know you got wet outside, you smell like sweaty dogs, get in the bathtub”

“What does that note say? ….No! I’m not signing it…”

“You got them to sign a note that said they would be your servant for the rest of the night for free??”

“She can’t even read!! Quit tricking your sisters”

“No..I know…you don’t have to do what she says, get in the bathtub!”

“..(mumbles)…is it bedtime yet?….”

“Hey…I think your pajamas are on backwards…”

Here’s a few quick tips, while I’m at it for any newly single dad’s:

1) If you can’t figure out if your pants are blue or black, don’t ask your kids, just go with whatever color you want them to be and don’t let anyone talk you out of it.

2) Baby wipes are great for shining your shoes when you’re in a hurry.

3) If the older kids tell you that the toddler spilt her apple juice all over the living room floor, but you can’t find a cup, you better find that toddler quick! It’s probably not apple juice!

4) If they ask you a question you really don’t want to get into at their age, just tell them you will discuss it with them later, that should buy you about 6 weeks, then repeat.

5) There’s no such thing as giving them too much attention.


Let’s face it, LOL has just been blatantly over used! People are treating LOL like its an actual word and not even an abbreviation anymore! LOL, should it even be capitalized? lol …Does lower case simply imply less loud laughter? Some people use it after a sentence that isn’t even funny! loL… I think some texters use it when there would normally be an awkward pause …. lol …. Some people use it when they aren’t really sure what else to say? LOL?? Some people use it in every single facebook post! LOL… Closed on the house today! LOL See you at the ball game LOL…Just brushed my teeth, LOL;) (wink added for emphasis)… hello!! LOL I just think everyone should be on the honor system and unless someone is capable of hearing you actually laugh OUT LOUD, DON’T use the “LOL” ! Small chuckles or a smile, is NOT due a LOL. So next time you text (me) or write a status update, remember, if you write “LOL”, someone better be looking at you like you’re stupid for laughing so loudly while staring at your phone! hahaha?

What’s up with the Little League Parent’s shirts? Do we really need to declare to everyone who our kid is and how we are related to them to everyone at the ballpark?? Timmy’s Dad…awe… Addi’s Mammi…. sweetness… The other day I saw one that said, Susie’s “Step-Dad”!! Wow, could we get a little more specific here?? …Johnny’s Dad’s Secretary….huh? ….Byron’s Mamma’s Baby Daddy…. I know, I know we are just trying to support our kids, and actually I kind of like knowing who the parents are of some of these kids!! I have some parenting books that I think we should start handing out for free during the 2nd inning stretch! “Whose kid is that laying in the infield making clay angels while the ball rolled by him???” Quick, someone run behind the bleachers and see whose wearing a “Mikey’s Mom” shirt!!! She wins the free James Dobson book!! Next prize? We have a paint stirrer-stick donated by Sherwin-Williams guaranteed to make a difference in your child when used correctly…..and it goes to “Dirk’s Dad” hiding over there on the top row of the bleacher…please come down here and get your prize and get Dirk off the top of the dugout for us…

Graveyard and Bones

There is a cemetary in Milton that has an unusual attraction. I drive by this old cemetary and inevitably there are joggers and walkers, well… jogging and walking around the paved roads that surround the cemetary. Evidently it is a good dog-walking track as well, since several seniors can be seen walking there various canines around this unusual exercise venue, pooper-scoopers in hand, ready in a moments notice for any mishap. So really, as the mourning citizens of Milton place flowers on the graves of their dearly departed, they can look up to see their concerned Miltonians power walking, arms a swinging wildly, as if they are trying to say, “Hey we are just trying to last longer than your friend there”! Yes, Grandpa always wanted to be buried where he could see the leotard-clad ladies walking with their 2 pound dumbells swinging in their hands! but really? is that really where you pick to walk? I mean it is quiet and peaceful for sure, but there is a actual beautiful walking trail within minutes of this cemetary people!! I don’t understand that conversation, “Wanna go to the track”? “No, I’d rather go walk around the cemetary, they have pretty flowers there” I bet they run really fast after dark…

Speaking of exercise, I broke my ankle last month whilst exerting myself. To date, I have received plenty of advice and heard lots of similar stories. I liked the salesman who came in my office to check on me. He said with a burly deep manly voice, “Was it a Tib-Fib?” Puzzled, I stammered back, “a what?” “Was it a Tib-Fib break”?, he clearly explained in the deep voice. “Well, my doctor said I broke the big bone and shatterred the smaller bone right above the ankle,” I replied back. “Yep!, the Tib-Fib break is one of the most painful of all the breaks!”, he explained “my friend had a Tib-Fib break, it looked like a broken branch hanging there and he was never the same”. (I was a little embarrassed by my lack of knowledge of which was the tib and which was the fib, and all this after feeling stupid for just losing 13 games straight of scrabble for friends on the Iphone!) “Well at least it wasn’t the Femur”, he continued comfortingly in the deep baratone, “I know a guy who got hit by a log that was swinging from a crane, and it snapped his Femur like a twig, the Femur is THE most painfull bone to break due to the sheer size of the bone”! I cringe at another comparison of leg bones with tree limbs and say, “Yes, I have never had a Femur break thank God!” (If he says he that he also has a friend with a stump, I might faint.) “Well be glad”, he concluded, “because that is definitely the most painful! Well if there is anything I can do, just ask, you hear?!” — NO, no, I think me and my lil’ Fib and Tib are healing nicely for now.Thanks though! Or what about the comforting guy that, after I explained it to him, he just said, “Whoa, so you’ll probably be limping the rest of your life then, huh”? WHAT?, Who told you that crap?? No one has ever said anything like that!! Whats my Doctors number??! Tib-Fib…pfff

Yesterday, I went back to the doctor and they were going to take a screw out, yeah, theres a screw in my leg bone that they are going to take out, I know, thats just weird, but anyhow, in order to know where to take it out, they have to know where to cut me. So they taped a paperclip to my leg and then took ex-rays and then looked at the x-rays, back at my leg and then got the sharpie out…yes, I said then they got the sharpie out, and they measured where on the paperclip they thought the screw would be in my Tib or Fib, still not sure, and he made an X on my leg. Then he tells me, Well, We can’t take it out today, but try to keep this marked with a sharpie for me in two weeks when we take it out! With all the technology we have, I had a paperclip taped to my leg and now I’m trying not to forget to keep drawing on my leg so they don’t cut me in the wrong place in a few weeks!! At least it wasn’t my Femur, due to the shear size of the bone, they would have probably had to use a letter opener and a paint brush.

There is a moment that defines our courage…This is the moment that we all have had at least once, and we all dread the inevitablel re-occurance…. Old, young, male, female, it is one of the worst feelings you will ever experience. As if you are on the brink of a bottomless pit, falling helplessly, teetering….your physical fitness gets tested to the max, because every ounce of your being is tensed up…..every bodily muscle taut….straining, as if to keep your body from falling into a flaming abyss… can only hope you are dreaming….

Someone left the stupid toilet seat up….. son of a…your calves tighten up so hard you almost cramp up, if you have a bad back you are basically doomed, the veins and muscles in your neck are on the verge of snapping at this point…. there is nothing to grab, no safe haven, if only the toilet paper was made out of rope…. your futile attempts to grab a hand out of the air are in vain….no, no, it is all up to your stomach muscles now… tighten up and somehow, someway, keep the skin of your ultra white (or otherwise) parts from touching the awefullness that is the icy-cold porcelain ring of humility. This moment seems to last a lifetime….Your entire day passes before your eyes as you keep falling… was going so good, breakfast was delightful, the kids were cheery, the coffee was hot an felt so good going down….and yet you continue on your decent….a hand thrown back to catch yourself might end tragically…desparately your mind grasps for answers!! “Why me, Why?” “What Have I done to deserve this fate?” “How can I possibly face my friends now!” “What if the ring is too big and I hit the chilly water!” …but its too late! ….the cold ring stings like a frozen knife as it sends ice-cicle like chills through your nether regions and puckers places that shouldn’t be puckered at this moment, and you can only think, “How can a plastic seat feel so much better than the porcelain ring of death?”

It is over as quickly as it began, you can still feel the iciness of the ring, even though you sprang up and turned viciously to accuse your would be attacker, yet somehow you feel foolish for letting the ring defeat you…. somehow you feel less human at this point, humility sets in as you slowly set the seat in its proper place and reflect on your life, grateful that there is no way anyone could have seen this debacle. Now seated and warm, the world seems right once again, though the icy ring leaves its cold mark for the next few hours, reminding you that even in the stillness of this room, one must always be wary and on-guard.

Reflections of a Triathlon

Reflections of a Triathlon.

I bought a surfboard back in March. Ok, yes, I am not sure what I was thinking, but I figured it would give me something to do in my down time, but about a month later my friend calls and says, “Do you want to do a triathlon”? I calmly replied, “A what-a-thon”?? For real? I can barely run to the mailbox when I know I got a package from in there!….”OK, sure, I’ll do it” So the surfboard was parked for the summer. The next thing I knew I was buying a bike that was way more expensive than the ones I bought for my girls for their birthdays…and they don’t even have baskets on the front…they really are proud of these triathlon bikes. The smaller and more uncomfortable it is, the more it costs! The first few rides were brutal, my backside was killing me, until I found out that they actually make padded shorts for bike riding….however that brings up another tidbit of information I had left out of my decision making… when I say “shorts”, I usually mean pants without the bottom part, I mean “let’s go play some basketball”- shorts….when THEY say “shorts”, they mean “spandex-hello-there-everyone-here-I-am-in-all-my-glory-pure-tightness”. Sooo, anyway after a few weeks of wearing the spandex “shorts” underneath my normal shorts, I ventured out into the world of “wearing spandex as if it is normal”. I actually wore underwear under my spandex for a while, until a teammate told me that it wasn’t necessary (like maybe it would make me swim slower)? ….And so here I am now, proudly standing in the Pensacola Beach Parking Lot with 1200 other proud spandex-wearing wanna-be athletes hoping to look normal in the crowd. By the way, Here’s a diet plan…you have to wear spandex to the beach in 6 months, no questions asked! I bet you could lose weight now! But alas I got ahead of myself…the triathlon…yes it was a new undertaking, I had never run more than 1.5 miles in my life, and that was because I was getting graded for it in college PE, and swimming 600 yards didn’t sound so bad….so we biked, and we went to the pool and swam. The first time we swam, I showed up without goggles! I thought goggles were for the kids at home looking for little sticks I threw in the pool, but no!, I was supposed to know I needed goggles?? Now I’m the idiot having to share goggles to swim laps….alas, I now have 2 pairs of my own, and I will scoff at anyone that shows up without them, like it is unheard of to swim without the sacred goggles. And the swim “cap”, what? I’m still not sure why i’m wearing that, like I’m trying to keep my hair dry for the picture afterwords? When I put it on, my head is so big it pulls the corners of my eyes up and back, so I keep thinking someones going to think I’m making fun of an Asian person or something (I’m not! Really, I’m not, but if I was it would be funny…ah..vewee funny!). So back to the day of the race…I’m looking at the Gulf of Mexico in a throng of people shivering from the wind and lack of clothing, wondering what I got myself into, thos buoys look way farther than I thought they would! As my “wave” is called, I hear “35-39 year old males and 75-99 year old male and females next”! What? 75-99 year olds?? Sure enough, I almost walk into the 80 year old wrinkled shivering little great grandmother and knock her over while I was talking to someone….then it hit me…What if she beats me!!! She actually was the last place finisher, but I was shocked to find out an 80 year old lady could do this triathlon and it kind of put it in a perspective, so an 80 year old lady can do it too….great….even then, after I pushed her down and dove in, I kinda felt bad. As I finished the swim, I ran up the beach in all my glory, swim cap in hand as I almost tripped up the stairs, I really was afraid I would fall down in the white Pensacola Beach sand and get up looking like the abominabal snowman and have to run back down and rinse off. The first transition was a blur, as I sat down to put my shoes on, I realized I had put my sock on upside down…yes socks can go on upside down, the heel was up on my ankle and my feet were sandy and I was breathing so hard I was about to hyperventilate, so I just took it off and re-positioned it and grabbed my bike and was “off to the races”. Us Triathaletes have special cycling shoes that click in and if you don’t click them in, you slip off the pedals and land on the dreaded “bar” that is on male bicycles for some reason I have never understood, so after carefully clicking in, I settled in for my best portion of the race. As a kid I loved to ride a bike and still do now that I have got back in to it. The thrill of passing people on the bike is always short lived as someone in a giant helmet and sponsored uniform flies by you so fast it scares you! An hour later I show up back at the transition, jump off my bike, almost fall over because my legs are numb, and stumble to my station propping myself up on my bike. Change shoes, eat some energy goo (thats right, theres energy goo too!) and stumble out of the gate to start the run. My thoughts are this…”just don’t let that fat chick catch you!”, then I feel bad and change it to “don’t let the plump girl pass you”… as the 65 year old man speed walking passes me…wow, he’s moving his arms fast! “Snap out of it!” I tell myself. My legs are numb, my hips hurt, my one foot feels like there’s a rock in my shoe, and my only thoughts now are “Don’t stop!! Just keep moving!” then “Why am I doing this again”?? As I cross the finish line, I am handed something in a plastic baggie, almost halucinating, I thought it was a brownie at first, shoot! it was my finishers medal!! I kinda wanted the brownie…So it was over. Just like that, it was over. A few pictures and a sense of unbelievable accomplishment, but it was over. We are now planning our next race…why not torture yourself again? Who knows, maybe they will hand out brownies next time for real…..and I have all this spandex I need to wear now, I need to get my monies worth.
Give me a break…I’ve been busy…took a month to write this!

Hello World!

I have created this blog page so that I can have somewhere besides Facebook “notes” to leave my ramblings and so non-Facebookers (if there is such a thing) can find them and follow my nonsensical musings.  So if you have a few minutes to spare or just need a good laugh, please take time to read a few posts.  I have added some old posts that were never put on Facebook, but were on my old Myspace page.  If you want emailed notifications of new posts, please subscribe to the rss feed to follow it.

Serious Research

After some serious research, I have made the following observations:

So really…have you noticed all the things that adults are doing that are really meant for kids? No! I don’t mean paintballing or watching cartoons in the evening….but here’s one….so I love chicken nuggets and all, but they are really supposed to be for kids, right?, well, I guess until McDonalds put out the 20 piece meal, that’s pretty much for adults unless you have a super-sized 8 year old, but what about when you go to a  restaurant like “Buffalo Wild Wings” or “Beef O’Bradies”? The last couple of times I went out for wings, I noticed that all the restaurants are now serving “Boneless Buffalo Wings”, I mean seriously…we already named them after a cow’s relative for some reason, but…these are really nothing more than adult chicken nuggets! Well, after I ordered them (as a responsible adult, I order them every time because I really don’t like the yucky skin and the bone cartilage in the bone-in wings), I got to thinking, this is marketing brilliance!  Now…as a grown-up, I can order chicken nuggets and not get ridiculed by my friends and also not have to worry about choosing which toy I want! It’s the cool way for an adult to order chicken nuggets…you could probably even sneak in a couple of packets of Mickey D’s Hot Mustard Sauce.


I also noticed a motorcycle the other day on my way to work, except it wasn’t really a motorcycle, it wasn’t even a tricycle, it was a motorcycle with training wheels!  So now you don’t really have to know how to drive a motorcycle, you can order it with training wheels on the front? Ok, I hear it is supposed to handle better? Whatever….your riding a motorcycle with training wheels on it big guy!  And its not really training wheels, because those would be in the back, these “extra” wheels are in the front, so if you popped a wheelie, you’d look like some kind of alien going down the road!  It really looks like a smart car  that forgot to put its helmet on.


Speaking of cars, the last time I had the girls in the grocery store, we always get the 2-seater cart that you have to search all over Wal-Mart for, so by the time you find it your ready to go home already, but I digress…the cart has a warning label on it that says, “Buckling your child in a shopping cart is just as important as buckling them in a car”.  Really…contraire says I….  As far back as I can remember, I have never been T-Boned by another cart at a high rate of speed on aisle 3 by the cereal, or seen a cart “totaled” in a 2 cart collision by the hotdogs…I mean, the motorized scooters in WalMart don’t even go fast enough to cause an accident, although on a side note, I feel those drivers think they own the aisles, but anyway, I have had a few “fender” benders in my cart in my day, but never, ever thought the buckle was as important as in a car. I thought the only purpose of the seat belt in the cart was to legally strap your kids down for an hour or so……Would I need full coverage cart insurance or just PIP?


Rainbows? Rainbows, and more rainbows….I just don’t know what to say, they have basically just totally stolen the rainbow now.  It used to be a symbol of God’s deliverance, but now you have to have pixie dust and glitter to fly the rainbow flag.  I don’t even want to know what’s at the end of the rainbow anymore, I’m afraid the little leprechaun might talk with a lisp and wear a thong to the beach on Memorial Day….or maybe the answer is that where-ever the end of the rainbow lands, that person automatically turns gay? I can see it now..”Hey Mom, what’s that colorful light coming this way???…it’s…so….beautiful!!’s..hey wait!!” …BAM–Your gay!! ….I guess that would end the “choice or genetics” debate once and for all!


I have more to write, but I’m in a hurry today, I just got an email from Mrs. Victoria Abraham from Kuwait…it seems she needs help getting her 2.5 million dollars out of Kuwait and I just need to email her all my personal information and she will deposit the money in my account, in order for me to help out humanity and all mankind in general….I think things are about to turn around for me, I can feel it!!

So have you ever really looked at people’s picture albums on FB, specifically the self portraits? (Just Me!:) Ok, we all might take a picture of ourselves once and a while, I get that, and I have actually just recently done it more often, since I have come to the conclusion there needs to be some kind of proof that I exist, and since a 10 year old photographer doesn’t always have my best interests at heart, well you get the picture…err…anyway, why do people insist on taking pictures in their bathrooms?? The only thing I can think of is that might be the room with the best lighting and biggest mirrors?  I mean really, I don’t need to see what kind of wallpaper you have in your bathroom, and I usually just notice that you are almost out of toilet paper or soap, or that you need to clean your shower curtian, or you got some gunk on your ceiling, or that it looks like your hair is parted on the other side…. You can tell some just look for the closest mirror, or any mirror possible..the conversation in TGIFridays would go something like this… “Hey, We were waiting on you, so we could order our appetizers!” –“oh,well I was in the bathroom having a kwik photo shoot….I noticed while I was washing up that I looked awesome!”   yay hurray—barf

…or how bout the TMI anniversary FB status update  “my husband is the most adorable, helpful, perfect man in the universe and I Love him with all my heart and I even might cook him dinner tonight because I just love him so much and he does everything for me an treats me so good and I love him more than life itself and he is the best thing that ever happened to me and I love him so, so much because he makes me feel like a princess and I love him also and also I think hes the greatest person alive, besides myself, and I hope everyone that reads this will realize that I really do love this moron, and also did I mention I love him”  —-barf  (sarcasm and cynicism unintended)

I was out to eat the other night and, as always, the 2 year old has to poop just before the appetizer arrives….so I gather up a diaper and wipes and as manly as humanly possible I head for the men’s room with Miss stinky-pants in tow, hoping that the dastardly deed has not already occured. This time, to my amazement and satisfaction, she actually uses the toilet as it was meant to be used, even if I have to keep having a panic attack each time she touches the toilet seat, but finally she’s is talked into being done and flushes, and… I don’t know, but if you’ve never tried to put a diaper on a standing-up, moving, chunky, 2 year old girl, all while trying not to let her duck under the wall and peer up at the man using the urinal on the other side, well, it could be an Olympic event, because it takes years of training, but this time we were alone, so I found the diaper changing station that happened to be nearby and threw her up on there where she barely fits still, I mean she looks like something out of Gullivers’ travels on that little bed…. Well, I usually feel like a NASCAR pit crew member when I’m in the men’s bathroom, in that I am flying as fast as I can to get the job done and get that girl back on the road before she starts looking around and asking questions, and it is my 4th girl, so I am pretty good at it, but this time for some reason my eyes were drawn to the directions on the sticker on the changing station that tell you not to leave the baby unattended and be sure to buckle them and a bunch of other stuff for amateurs, but that is when I noticed that the directions were also in braille….yes, I said BRAILLE.  The directions at the baby changing station in the men’s bathroom have braille directions on them!!  Yes, as in the language for blind people!! Now really! I don’t care if your a male or female, if you EVER, …EVER,  see a blind guy going into the men’s bathroom with a baby and a diaper and a wipe container, please, please follow him in and help him!!