I'll be honest. I had a lot going on this month. 

We took a road trip to NJ. I returned to work. 

That being said, I didn't have much time to dedicate to blogging. 

So I phoned it in this month. 

Enjoy these pictures of Kyle, the Godfather.

First 3 people to tip me this month will get a signed Doug Wanoy copy of Henry's Hiccups for Deaf Awareness Month. 
​
And if you're a parent, check out my parenting guide Now What? Mindful Parenting Checklists for Life’s Hard Moments. ​

KB - a boy who marches to the beat of a different drummer. ​

KB- a boy who’s got the beat.

KB- a boy who doesn’t miss a beat.

KB- a boy who goes off the beaten track ​

KB - a boy who, if he can’t beat ‘em, joins ‘em.

All right, I’m done beating around the bush. 

KB does a lot of beating. 

Off the top of my head, though, not on the wrestling mats of Kent State (aye-oh, Shots fired. Certainly not the first time they’ve been directed at a Kent State student. Aye-oh). 

But that wasn’t always the case. 

KB used to be a deadbeat wrestler who lost to a girl at the ripe and impressionable age of 6 years old. The girl even had the balls, or lack thereof, to be named Devin. She had to shove it in Kyle’s face that she even had a manlier name than him. 

Losing to a girl is enough to scar a young boy for eternity. KB was not immune to this way of thinking.  

And that memory has been etched into his brain forever. 

“Never again will I be beaten by a girl,” he menacingly scribbled in his Goblin journal. 

He took what he penned very seriously. 

Folks, this is a dark tale of your friend KB. One I have been hesitant to discuss, for I do not want to be victim shamed or gaslit into believing that my feelings and my stories are invalid. 

​

When I saw what happened to Steven Cheah on the gym mats of Barstool Sports Headquarters’ basketball courts a year ago, the memories I had been suppressing resurfaced and triggered an onslaught of flashbacks. 

Girl. 

Slammed. 

Head. 

Injured. 

Excessive apologies. 

Remorse.

This tale was all too familiar. Cheah was another notch on KB’s belt. If I didn’t speak up now, who would? And worse yet, who would be KB’s next victim? 

​

Lauren - Should I sit right here? 

Interviewer (off camera): Yes, right there. Make yourself comfortable. Thanks for coming in today. Are you ready? 

Lauren - I’m ready to tell my story. 

Screen goes dark. 

Lauren - I never knew how much that loss to a girl affected Kyle. I thought he was a normal-ish boy growing up. 

Sure, he was competitive. He was really keen on beating me at things. 

Interviewer: What things? 

Lauren - Well, there was the Tic-Tac-Toe incident that was captured on film. He really wanted to beat me at that, and apparently, he thumped me in the nose. You can hear me screaming on camera. I was labeled as “dramatic.” 

Then, there was the infamous Geography Bee usurping. I would rather not relive that event again. 

I also recall a downhill mile race in Wheeling. It was this yearly race where everyone started at the top and ran to the bottom. It was deemed as the “fastest mile in America.” Wheeling loved downhill things. Downhill Irish Bowling. Downhill Potato Sack Races. Double Down Downhill is a two-legged race downhill. Downhill for Downs - an event where everyone just kind of rolled downhill for Down Syndrome Awareness Day. 

Anyway, Kyle was hillbent (hill pun) on beating me in this race. Running was my thing. But he was willing to sacrifice, come hill or high water (hill pun), his life, so it seems by the photo evidence, to beat me. In the end, he didn’t. But his fate was sealed. A monster was unleashed in him, just like when Devin beat him. He was going to hold a grudge.

I used to scour my brain for what I ever did wrong to Kyle, but after years of therapy, I learned that I was an outlet to Kyle’s toxic masculinity. ‘Devin really did a number on your brother,’ my therapist said. ‘You, Lauren, are a symbol of all girls for Kyle since you are the closest girl to him.’

It’s taken some time, but I’m learning to unlearn some of those negative thoughts I had about myself, thanks to Kyle. I’ve stopped blaming myself. I’m ready to move forward. I’m ready to talk about the Incident. 

​

​CHECK OUT the NEW BOOK about Doug, KB, and Dead Mom on Amazon. Learn more here. 

Screen fades to a Black. 

James (Lauren’s husband) - Can you hear me okay? Is this mic working? Okay. Check. Check. Cool. What’s the Incident? Laughs. I almost didn’t marry her because of it. 

Amy (cousin of Lauren and Kyle) - The Incident was strange. That’s all I will say. I don’t like to take sides. 

Greg Bauer (aka Doug Wanoy and father of Lauren and Kyle) - I’ve never been more disappointed in both of my children at the same time than after the Incident. 

Lauren - Yeah so, we were in NJ for my cousin’s wedding. June 2013. 

B-roll footage of the wedding. 

Lauren - We liked to play cornhole at my Nanny’s house. In the front yard. Kyle was still in college at the time. I’d say he was like 19. I was 23. James and I had been dating for a year. This was his first time in NJ. 

It was your typical day. Not too hot. Not too cold. The sun was beating down. 

I had no idea that I was about to get a beating. 

Sinister music. 

Sarah (cousin of Lauren and Kyle) - I think someone brought a football out. It might have been Jack Bauer. 

Brian Bauer (brother of Greg and uncle of Kyle and Lauren aka Syd Barrett aka The Card Guy) - The Bauers are a competitive bunch, so I’m sure that merely tossing the football turned into some type of game. 

Nanny (grandmother of Lauren and Kyle) - I was inside getting together the Chinese food we were going to eat when I heard screaming. Shutters. 

Interviewer: Are you ready? 

Lauren - Sniffles. Brushes tears away. Yeah. I’m ready. 

So we were tossing the football around. Kyle. Me. My cousins. Our dads. No real game had ensued. We were just playing for fun. 

At one point, I had the ball, and Kyle was my lone defender. Starts sobbing. 

Oh my, I’m so sorry. It’s all so much. 

His eyes shot daggers at me like a conscious pilot about to nail down the enemy. A sweat-infused musk permeated from his underarms. He looked at me like an ex looking at his former twit, her name Tess LaBourne. His cauliflower ears pulsed in a jiffy up in steam like the smoke from a flight crashing into an island. He was about to jimmy the ball out from my hands and have my Brooks shoes slipping out from me on the ground so hard that I would need a wheelchair. I was a sitting drake in Kyle’s game of duck, duck, goose. He started from the bottom, and now we were here. This was Kyle’s biggest con. Yay for me. He was about to play his trump card. He’d been biden’ his time ever since Devin. Kyle had me like a baby in the palm of his well-oiled hands. Revenge doesn’t pick sides. Revenge doesn’t care about family. All some men want is power with a capital P. Did he, Kyle, want that?

The answer was yes.  

He came charging at me like a bull out of his cage. He scooped me up in one fell swoop and body slammed my head into the ground, the ball coming loose from my hands and dancing its way across the yard. But it didn’t matter. The damage had been done. 

Kyle stared at me with horror in his eyes. What had he done? 

And like a dormant volcano waiting to erupt from years of pent-up energy, a demon burst from within me. 

Vile and cruel vitriol spewed out of my mouth as I raced like hot lava toward Kyle. 

Anything in my path left a trail of destruction behind me. 

I picked up the innocent bean bags from cornhole and hurled them at Kyle, hoping to inflict as much pain as he had on me. I screamed. I lashed out. 

‘What have you done, Kyle? What have you done? Why? Why? Why?’ 

We did this song and dance throughout the entire front yard until my innards had cooled, and I went to the backyard to melt into the arms of my really perplexed husband, boyfriend at the time. 

Everyone was confused. Kyle sheepishly apologized. I looked like the deranged one, and he was yet another victim in the way of a hysterical woman. 

So that’s what I did. I became the part. I laughed it off. I claimed I was on my period or something else silly girls get. I altered the story to deem fit. I overreacted. I was dramatic. I was to blame. 

I ran with the ruse even after I witnessed the way Kyle ridiculed pregnant Kate. 

I spun the supertuge even after I watched the way Kyle manhandled Cheah. 

I sat silently for years until the right date came around, and I was ready to tell my story. 

My brother is not who you think he is. And he’s made you a purl, fools, with all the intertwining yarns he spins. 

Now you know the truth.


Screen goes dark. 
End credits. 

​

Before my second son arrived, I saw and heard a lot of women commenting about what was harder for them - the transition from 0-1 or 1-2 kids? Or 2-3, 3-4, 4-5 kids for those larger families? 

I had flashbacks to my first pregnancy where people liked to remind you about the lack of sleep you were about to get and like it was hopeless. 

It seemed most people found the transition from 1-2 harder. 

I am not typically an overanxious person. I'm more of a "it'll all work out" kind of gal. But those all too familiar feelings started to come back the moment we got the call saying there was a baby for us. 

The 0-1 transition had its challenges. Was this about to be harder? I had enough hard lately and was ready for some easy, breezy. 

But after nearly two months of Jacob, I have my official answer to this question. 

Dun. Dun. Dun. 

My answer is that there is no universal answer. There isn't even an official answer for me. 

It really boils down to these five main areas: 

1.) Pregnancy/Labor and Delivery
2.) The age you are at the time of having the baby
3.) Sibling's age at the time of birth of the second child
4.) Life circumstances
5.) Child's temperament

​I'll break down each one and tell you which transition I found harder in each area. 

0-1 Transition: I usually don't hate much things in life. I always try to find the good and learn to like something. Not pregnancy. 

I hated that ish. 

I had morning sickness all day pretty much throughout the whole pregnancy. I threw up a lot in the first trimester. 

This is also the first time where I experienced a real bout of anxiety. 

Prior to having kids, I had a lot of experience with kids 3 and above. From tutoring, being a day camp counselor, babysitting, student teaching, and actually teaching, I have worked with a wide variety of kids and I LOVE all ages. 

But babies. I had no experience. Nada. 

My irrational thoughts convinced me that the nurses at the hospital would be able to discern that I had no experience and that they would either scoff at me or take away my child. I wasn't even sure if I knew how to hold a baby. The thought of it petrified me. 

As for the labor and delivery part, I had a scheduled c-section (because of the brain aneurysm) but went into labor before it. DANG were the contractions not SUPER painful. Yikes. 

By the time I got to the hospital because I had labored at home for hours after thinking it was false labor, I was practically begging for that needle to be stuck inside of me for the c-section. 

Then, there's the c-section recovery and your body recovering from being pregnant for nine months. And the milk production that is coming in. It's a lot! 

1-2 Transition: No notes. LOL. I wasn't pregnant and didn't experience the pangs of labor and delivery. It has been glorious!

Not me going for runs and then going to the NICU to visit my baby while the other, tired new moms probably thought what the heck kind of drugs I was taking to be able to do that after having a kid. 

"Ladies, who says having a baby is hard? Look how I have bounced back!" Flips hair. 

JUST KIDDING! 

Conclusion: The 1-2 transition has been lightyears easier in this area for obvious reasons. 

0-1 Transition: I was 28 when I got pregnant with my first son and 29 when I delivered. 

Bright eyed and bushy tailed. Naive to the hardships of the world. 

I remember being up in the middle of the night while breastfeeding and chowing down on a power bar. I would research all the fun spots to go the next day as I was determined to make the most of my maternity leave. 

And here's the crazy part - I would go. 

​I'm not sure how I did it or how I had so much energy. 

1-2 Transition: *Takes a drag of her cigarette.*

" I've lived a lot of life. What do you want to know, kid?" 

It's true. I am 35 now and have lived a lot of life since my first child. 

Life has beaten me down in more ways than one. I don't have nearly the energy I used to have. I try. Though, I put in a valiant effort, I must say.

But one night of poor sleep, and all I want to do is nap all day. My back, knees, and hips hurt a lot more than they used to. I ain't no spring chicken. 

HOWEVER, all the life I have lived since my firstborn, has wizened me. It's made me more confident.

I'm not second guessing my parenting decisions or following exactly what the "Instagram experts" tout out in scripts and rules. 

I've done hard and know I have the resilience to do hard again. 

Conclusion: It's a tie in this area. My first son I had a lot more energy and could survive on less sleep. I also had fewer aches and pains. Easier for me in this area.

But I was second-guessing my decisions and spending hours poring over parenting books and guides. 

With baby #2 I have been there and done that. Way easier when you have the confidence and fully stacked toolkit that I can readily pull out to troubleshoot any problem that arises.  

Obviously going from 0-1 kid doesn't come with any siblings. 

But the age of your first child can play a critical role in the transition from 1-2 kids. 

You go from double teaming to man-on-man defense. 

Our situation is unique. Our two boys have a 6-year age difference. Most people don't have that kind of gap. 

Our first son is out of diapers, in school all day, can feed, bathe, dress, and play by himself. He can form full sentences and communicate his wants and needs clearly. 

He also helps us out with the baby. 

Not that we would ever ignore our first son, but he requires a lot less attention now that he is older which is the goal in parenting. 

I can see it being a lot harder if you have a sibling who is also in diapers, figuring out his feelings and emotions in the toddler years, not speaking in full sentences, and doesn't understand who this new baby is taking Mommy and Daddy away from him.

Conclusion: ​I have already mourned and accepted the fact that our kids aren't closer in age and have reached the point where the age gap has made the transition easier for us.​​

Life circumstances really boil down to the following:

• Maternity and paternity leave
• Family/Friends (Help)
• ​Health
• Living situation 
• Financial means
• Other

0-1 Transition: I took 14 weeks of maternity leave, went back to work for a month, and then it was summer break. James had 12 weeks of paternity leave. 

We had both set of parents helping us and a couple friends who already had kids.  We didn't have to put our son in daycare because both grandparents agreed to help watch.

We were both in good health (physically and mentally) and so was our baby. 

We lived in a three-story townhouse in a family friendly neighborhood. 

Lastly, our financial means were good. We had some debt left to pay off, but we weren't strapped for cash. 

We were in a good place to have a baby and had a lot of love and support from those around us. 

1-2 Transition: This time around, I am taking 12 weeks of maternity leave and going back to work for two months before it is summer break. My husband has 16 weeks this time! He is splitting his paternity leave and will take the rest when I go back to work. 

Obviously, this time my mom isn't here to help out which has made me extremely sad. I miss her and her love and guidance a lot. However, I am fortunate that I had her for the first baby, and she had imparted upon me a lot of wisdom and advice. 

We still have James' parents and my dad. Albeit older LOL. Plus, my aunt (my mom's sister) has been a tremendous help. 

An added bonus is that since I can't breastfeed, all the feedings do not fall on me and that James can help out throughout the day and night. 

I feel like we have a more established friend group who have become like family. We also now live in a single-family home with the BEST neighbors (on par with the ones I had growing up - shout out to the Taylors!). 

The outpouring of help from both new and old friends and family has been overwhelming! 

Both of our health is still good. Two-three years ago I would be saying differently about my health. I had to overcome some health issues. During those times, I yearned for a baby, but now see the wait was a blessing in disguise. 

Lastly, our financial means are still good. We have paid off all debt and had six years to save for another child.

I'd say we are in an even better place to have a child this time around. 

Conclusion: ​Through both transitions, we have been blessed to have such favorable life circumstances supporting us to raise a baby. It really makes a difference when you have adequate help and paid leave. 

It's hard to pinpoint which transition was easier, but I'm going to go with the transition from 1-2 minus the part with not having my mom. 

Lastly, the baby's temperament really plays a role in how easy the transition can be. 

Even though my sons are not biologically related, they both have very similar temperaments as babies.

I'd say they are relatively calm babies with easygoing temperaments. 

Sure, they have/had their fussy moments, especially during the "witching hour," but we can easily find what soothes them. 

​Our second son has been a much better sleeper in the newborn stages, but our first son wasn't terrible. 

Conclusion: I can see how having an extremely fussy baby or a baby who doesn't sleep very well can solely determine which transition is easier. 

For us, I am going to say the transition from 1-2 since our second son is a better sleeper. No offense, Henry. 

As you can see, determining which transition is easier is very unique to your family situation and can be decided among a number of different factors. 

You might even go through different seasons or years where you fluctuate with which transition you think is easiest.

I know there have been some evenings recently where our second son is having his "witching hour" and have him swaddled in tight to my wrap while bouncing on a ball with hair dryer sounds blaring and trying to keep a pacifier in his mouth that he keeps spitting out and meanwhile our first son is whining at me to read him a book and put him to bed. My back aches. My knees hurt. And I'm so tired. 

It is then that I think this isn't easier. 

Only for the next day for me to wake up fully rested with both boys snuggled next to me and remember, "Oh this is much easier. This is what I wanted for so many years." 

So please don't let the tales of the internet scare and cause you much anxiety. 

I was recently at baby yoga with mostly first time moms and some veteran moms. A mom of two told a mom of one, "Oh going from 1-2 is much harder." 

I could see the new mom who is probably tired and going through some hard days and nights herself get wide eyed and frightened. "Oh really?!?" 

I wanted to chime in, "Please don't worry about that now. Be present where you are. Everyone's circumstances are different." 

Then, I probably would quote scripture or the Serenity Prayer about how we shouldn't be anxious and all the moms who look at me like I'm a weirdo, so I refrained from saying anything. 

Maybe I should have said something, but I went home and wrote this blog instead. 

CHECK OUT the NEW BOOK about Doug, KB, and Dead Mom on Amazon. Learn more here. 
 
First 3 people to tip me this month will get a signed Doug Wanoy copy of Henry's Hiccups for Deaf Awareness Month. 
​
And if you're a parent, check out my parenting guide Now What? Mindful Parenting Checklists for Life’s Hard Moments. ​

Unlike the gang on Always Sunny, James and I didn’t buy a timeshare in the following recounting of events. 

Timeshares can be a sham and the people who sell them are, at best, grifters, but little did these swindlers know that they were about to meet the bigger hustlers of the two groups staring at each other from across the table that day on January 3.

James and I learned we had won a three-night, four-day stay in Williamsburg, VA, in December. Our names were drawn from a raffle we entered at the NC State Fair. 

The only catch was that we had to sit through a 90-minute timeshare presentation. 

Most people would say no. 

Not us. 

This would be our third time running our little Ponzi scheme. We knew how these people operated. 

Pressure us to buy a timeshare. Say, “No,” at least ten times. Claim our prizes. Go home. 

Bada bing bada boom. 

We worked out that we would arrive in Williamsburg on Thursday. Thursday through Friday would earn us the highest gift card of all the days: a $200 Visa gift card.

If we were to run this scheme, we would go for the gold or nothing. 

Go big and then go home is what we like to say when we run our Operation Deceive the Timeshare Business.

Get in. Get out. 

Hustle the Hustler. 

Spare the Timeshare.

Say, “No” to the Grift and Then Collect Our Gift. 

Castrate and Then Vacate Vacation Ownership 

We’re still workshopping our catchphrase. 

Anyway, on January 2 we departed Raleigh, NC around noon to make it to Williamsburg by our 4 PM check-in time. 

The name of our stay was Vacation Village Resorts and by the sounds of that I was expecting Target but when we arrived we were greeted with WalMart. 

No offense to Williamsburg and the Revolutionary War but this place was not revolutionary. 

The British would take one look at this place and say, “Nah,” and then leave. 

Turning down this timeshare just got a whole lot easier.

After some minor setbacks like my dear husband messing up something that I said a thousand (okay, three times) to double check and our original room being so unkempt (unmade bed, dirty sheets and towels, unemptied trash) that we got moved to their “suite,” we enjoyed dinner out in historical Williamsburg and a kid-free night catching up on some of our shows. 

Point for us. Complimentary night away paid for by the Timeshare People. 

Around 12:30 the next day, we were prepared to meet our Match by doing some of our pregame rituals. 

“No is a complete sentence. No is a complete sentence. No is a complete sentence.” 

“Eye on the prize. Visualize our gifts at the end.” 

“Hands in. Timeshare on three. 1-2-3.”


People who sell timeshares usually have a look. Offense. So we were slightly thrown off guard when our agent was not only younger than us but Black with some swag and street cred. 
His name was De’shaun, too. People who sell timeshares usually aren’t named that. 
They are usually named Chad, Brad, Chet, Brock, Chaz, Thad, or Tim E. Share. 

De’shaun knew that we didn’t want to be there. We knew that he didn’t want to be there. He knew that we would say no. We knew that we had to go along with his spiel. 

He was smooth as James called him, but the timeshare business is just not for people our age. It’s a tough sell. For starters, they tried to rebrand to Vacation Ownership instead of timeshare, but we could see through the ruse. It’s basically the same thing.  

We tried to politely explain that people our age do not always like traveling to the same destination over and over, and even if we had the luxury of going to different travel cities like you can with Vacation Ownership, part of the experience is finding eclectic, unique, and fun hotels or AirBNBs where you get immersed in the culture and city. Not staying in outdated hotels like this one. Why would we want vacationing to become a business?

The selling point for owning a room at this Williamsburg resort was that they had free DVDs to check out and grills out the back patios of the room. Not to mention that the hotels they tried to “show off” in Italy and New Zealand were so bad that it actually made me not want to go there. 

Our breaking point came when we had to watch a two minute video of one of their resorts, but it just seemed like the opening to a bad porn. We watched a scantily clad woman emerge dripping wet from the pool only to then be rubbed down in their spa. It was weird, and we had to stifle back laughter. 

This was fun. We were having fun. 

We eventually let down De’Shaun easily. 

“It’s not you, bro. It’s us.” 

He saw it coming a mile away and didn’t even give us a fight. 

But it wasn’t over then. They make you go through the ringer before you are allowed to leave with their prizes. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, let’s get ready to rumble.” 

“Introducing first… Coming out of the douchey corner, wearing his ostentatious suit and pinkie ring, standing 5 feet 9 inches and weighing the size of an asstwat, his credentials include white collar crime, making women pay on first dates, and getting his mom to call his ex-girlfriend and ask for the $100 she owes in water bills because she showered at his place three times. His record is 3-200 with selling timeshares. He’s made 50 people cry and has told De’Shaun at least 10 times that he has Black friends, so he’s allowed to say the n-word in rap songs. He’s known around Vacation Village. It’s BLANE, the Pain, WAYNE.” 

“Introducing second…coming out of the sleazy corner, wearing a power suit with two inch heels and reeking of cigarettes, standing also 5 feet 9 inches and weighing the size of a Karen on Ozempic, her credentials include calling the cops on children of color operating a lemonade stand without a permit, clutching her pearls and purse when a “thug” walks by, and reposting a political post with the caption, ‘louder for the people in the back.’ Her record is 5-100 with selling timeshares and has asked De’Shaun at least 10 times if she can touch his hair. She’s known around Williamsburg. It’s DONNA.” 

And then there was us. 

If anything were getting owned this day, it would be these fools. Byaaam bya bya bya bya byeeeaaaaaaamm.

They put up a fight. I’ll give them that. 

Blane tried to sweeten the deal so many times that it makes you wonder if it were really so good why didn’t they offer us the first price to begin with. 

Donna went down swinging. Her departing line was, “Do you even like vacations?” before she stormed off in a huff. 

Why, yes, Donna, we enjoy them so much that we just got a free night out of this visit, a 2-night/3 day stay back to Williamsburg, and a 3-night/4 day stay in either Vegas or Florida. On top of our $200 Visa gift card.

You’re now free to move about the country without being tied down to a vacation ownership.

And that’s how James and Lauren didn’t buy a timeshare. 

Until next time…

P.S. De’Shaun, get out. You can do better, dawg. James said that. Not me. 

​

CHECK OUT the NEW BOOK about Doug, KB, and Dead Mom on Amazon. Learn more here. 
 
First 3 people to tip me this month will get a signed Doug Wanoy copy of Henry's Hiccups for Deaf Awareness Month. 
​
And if you're a parent, check out my parenting guide Now What? Mindful Parenting Checklists for Life’s Hard Moments. ​

Ray and Judy are a lovely couple who own a quaint bookshop in Rockaway, NJ. The store sells a variety of intricacies that we loved to browse: baseball cards, gag gifts, Chicken Soup for the Soul, paper dolls, and Hank books. 

Who is Hank? Hank is a man whose day consists of going to work, coming home, and reading either one of his comics from his $100,000 collection or one of his many Stephen King novels, watching TV in the dark, or going to Ray and Judy’s Book Stop. My aunt works for Hank’s wife. 

For reasons the mind will never fully comprehend, simply stopping at Ray and Judy’s wasn’t tradition enough. Our fathers had to take it a step further and out of their unscrupulous and conniving ways a new pastime was birthed - torturing Ray and Judy. 

They would repeatedly send Kyle into the shop with never enough money. Kyle would have to insist that he buy one of Hank’s books. It was always Hank. 

When they weren’t using Kyle as a scapegoat, they would post up at the front counter themselves and pester Ray and Judy with questions and jokes about Hank. It was always Hank. 

According to Bauer Family lore which has been written down in Bauer and Company’s 100 Biggest Oops (this a true, living document), “One day the owner of Ray and Judy’s told Hank about the jokes and described the people telling them. Hank responded by saying, ‘Oh, they are just two men who don’t want to grow up.’ Bauer and Company may never step back into the book stop again, but who cares, it’s just another place on Main Street that they can’t go to.”

But we went back year after year.  

​

I wrote about the Card Contest in the Chicken Soup for the Soul holiday edition book. 

For many, Jesus and Santa are the two main guys of Christmas. They steal the show. And although Jesus is the reason for the season in our household, there is another guy who is almost just as important to our family every holiday season. It’s the Card Guy. 

We have a long-standing tradition on my dad’s side of the family of having a card contest over the years. What started as a friendly game of voting on which Christmas card was the best to be sent to my uncle and his family turned into an all-out fierce competition of judging, alliances, secret voting, song and dance, tears, fights, and carefully crafting the perfect and funniest card for half a year. We’ve had family members become the Griswalds, Kardashians, Joe Biden and Obama, and Ralphie and Randy from A Christmas Story all in the name of the Card Contest. And out of that, the Card Guy came to life. 

The Card Guy is my uncle. On the eve of the contest, he transforms into character wearing a jean vest full of Christmas cards from days of yore. The lights dim, the music sounds, and he bursts into the room almost magically singing and dancing the opening number. Usually a spoof on a popular song. It’s oddly reminiscent of Michael Scott performing at the Dundies. Throughout his entire performance for the night, he does a spectacular job of hosting the contest. He divides the cards into categories: Nature, Religious, Plain Text, and the biggest, most coveted one of all, the Picture category. Then, he dazzles us with his jokes, wit, charisma, and charm until he ultimately crowns the winner of the night. For a while, the Card Guy was on top of the world. 

But over time, we became greedy and hungry for victory. We pushed the Card Guy for more. More jokes. More songs. More pizzazz. And we riddled him when the contest dragged on for too long. We belittled him when our cards didn’t win. We booed him when his jokes didn’t land. We demanded him to perform like he was some kind of show puppet and not a real person with real feelings. We couldn’t see it, but the Card Guy was cracking. The pressure was too much. 

Finally, he hung up his hat and announced his retirement. Some family members made feeble attempts to encourage him to perform again, but he simply wouldn’t do it. But with the birth of children, weddings, surgeries, and the like, the family wasn’t able to be together at Christmastime for the past two years. We made some tries to have the contest over Facebook, but it was missing something. It was missing the Card Guy. 

With the last years being so hard we all needed something to unite the world during the holiday season. Someone to bring peace and simplicity back into the homes of America again. We needed the Card Guy. But more importantly, we needed the Card Guy because he unites our family together. He makes us laugh. He makes us value family traditions. He gives us hope that despite everything that has happened in the world, we will always have each other to lean on, fight, and make up with, and ultimately create long-lasting memories with. Ones we can tell our children about. 2020 wasn’t the year for traditions to be forgotten. It was the year for them to be remade, rebirthed, and restored in any way possible. It was the year for Card Guy. 

We brought it back for a few years, but then my mom died, and it was too hard to do it. 

HOWEVER, stay tuned for next year. We will be back, and you can submit your card to the contest. 

​

Christmas starts with a birth and, for us Bauers, ends with death. During 2nd Christmas, our fathers loaded us in the car and drove us to Restland Memorial Park, the final resting place for my granddad (my dad’s father), my great-grandfather, and my great-grandmother. 

Because just simply paying our respects to the deceased is too much to ask for, our dads designed elaborate, competitive games for the kids to play to earn money. You might be quick to dismiss these playground games and chalk it up to two fathers who probably only wanted a few minutes to themselves to smoke their cigars. However, I know our fathers and these contests were just as much for their entertainment as it was for ours. 

Much like the wise men delivering gifts to Jesus, our padres, too, made us deliver gifts to the graves of our departed loved ones. The person with the most unique gift won.

In hindsight, I am abashed to admit that we aided and abetted in petty grave robbery and just enabled our fathers’ miserly misconducts. “We don’t need to buy flowers for the graves, we will just have our children steal things.” 

Once the gathering of the objects ended, we were free to frolic around the cemetery

Other Graveyard Olympic games consisted of the following: 

• First to Locate Our Family’s Plots
• The Youngest Person to Die (Diabolical thinking about that now)
• The Oldest Person to Die

Then, for the Closing Ceremonies, we would skip and chant around the graves with a Hail Mary or Our Father probably thrown in there somewhere. Bizarre but then again our fathers are bizarre and had a bizarre relationship with their dad. 

​

To be fair, I had been warned. Yet, the pain of the second year knocked me down in an earth-shattering way.

The anniversary of my mom’s death came and went. I was thrust back into the start of the school year soon after. I didn’t have time to process what entering the second year meant.

But, over time, I soon started to realize all of the nuances of Year 2. And I didn’t like them.

To me, the griever, a year removed from my mom’s death is still very fresh. To me, the lifelong journey of my grief is just beginning. To everyone else who doesn’t get it, a year is so long ago.

You start questioning your actions. “Am I still talking about her death way too much?” “Do people think I’m milking my sadness?” “Why does this still feel so hard?”

The answer to that last question is it feels hard because it is hard. The second year of grief can be so much harder than the first, despite what people believe.

Here is what 20–30-year-olds had to say about the second year after losing their parents.

1.) I’m in the second year and it is just horrible. — Jennifer

2.) I’m in Year 2 of my mom dying and am finding it to be a lot heavier than Year 1. Not as shocking as the first year, and I’ve definitely learned tools to handle it better. But Year 2 seems to be a deeper kind of grief as more time passes without her.

I don’t think a lot of people who have been through this understand that things don’t just get better after the first year. — Lauren

3.) I think it was the realization that this is the way it’s going to be for the rest of my life. — Mike

4.) I’m expecting it to be worse. I lost my mom just a month ago, and we were very close. When my aunt, who was like a second mom, passed, I was ok on her first anniversary but broke down on her second. So I’m expecting the same or worse with Mom. It did get easier with my aunt after some years. It has been 16 now. So I’m hoping it will get easier after a few years go by. Yes, years…it will take lots of time, but it will get easier (hopefully). For all of us. — Janet

5.) 11 months for me. December 19th, 2023, was the worst day of my life by far. I don't know how I made it through these 11 months and surely have no idea how I will make it past the year. “She’s with you.” Yeah, I hear it and feel it. But the physical presence meant soooo much more. Everything is a milestone. -Kadie

6.) Just started on year 2…. So much harder….. — Tracey

7.) It is year 2 since my Mom passed. I think the reality sets in, and it is not any easier. I miss her so much. The phone calls every evening to make sure she is ok. All the visits are done. No, it is not easier. -Cheryl

8.) Year two is lonely. Mom is gone, but her traditions linger. Every family member has moved beyond shock to a new level of grief or coping. The unity in shock and pain is missing. — Julia

9.) I completely agree; the first year is shock and numbness, but the second year is when reality sets in. — Jeff

10.) For me, year 2 was better because I had experienced all the firsts. She died at the end of January, so she had been gone a while by the time the first holidays rolled around… so I wasn’t still in shock and felt the deep grief of the holidays without her. Once her 1 year passed, I felt a bit better. Don’t get me wrong, there were plenty of hard times during year 2… but each year has gotten a bit better. — Becky

11.) Year two was hard! Bc I thought ok, it’s gonna get easier. Not the case; it was how has it been two years, how have I lived without her for 2 years, how? — Shanda

12.) My shock is gone and now reality sets in. — Marie

13.) About a month after my Mom passed away, I met someone who told me that the second year was worse. Definitely not what I wanted to hear. But absolutely true! I was glad to have been warned. Everyone thinks if you get past “the year of firsts,” then you’re good. But it’s not true at all.

When they told me about year 2, they said that for the first year, you think they’re away. But by the second year, it starts to sink in that they aren’t coming back. — Gretchen

14.) Year 2 was especially hard since my dad was dating someone. I understood his wanting someone in his life to love and was angry at myself for being angry at the situation and her for leaving too soon. By the end of Year 2, it finally settled in my bones she was gone, and picking up my phone to call or text her stopped, and I accepted the situation. — Sara

15.) My mom died on Thanksgiving day of 2022. In year one, I was in shock, I kept busy to not feel the pain. Year two has been so hard and getting harder the closer we get to the 24th. It’s really settled in that she’s gone now that I’m truly starting to process. — Sarah

16.) Year two was worse. The reality sets in. The friends who haven’t experienced such great loss, their support no longer exists. People expect you to just move on. I was VERY close to my mom…its been so hard without her. I really miss the love my mom gave me. — AnnaMarie

17.) Year 2 was much worse. I think the reality of it sets in. In year 1, I kept telling myself to “get through” my 1st birthday without her, 1st Thanksgiving, 1st Christmas, etc. I focused on that and not so much on her actually being gone. So Year 2 hit really hard. I am in year 4, and I lost my Dad back in April, so it is back to now getting through everything without my parents. What a journey! — Melissa

18.) I think I was in a fog and numb during the first year. The second year was when the shock wore off. It was awful for me. I’m now in the third year, and I still have moments of very heavy grief, but it’s not quite as often as last year. — Hayley

19.) In year 2, the shock is gone. Only the deep-seated awareness that it isn’t going to change. She is gone and is not coming back. — Mary

20.) My mom died in March 2021. NYE, I was so sad and had a panic attack almost because I felt like it wasn’t fair to go into 2022 without her. Does that make sense? — Alicia

21.) Mine passed the day after my birthday, and I don’t know how I will handle it next year. I may stop celebrating birthdays or I may celebrate my life and hers. We’ll see. Sending love and hugs. — Janet

22.) Please tell me it isn’t true about year 2! It’s only been since Oct 8th, and every day, I dread waking up. The pain is unbearable. I keep wishing, praying that she will walk down the hall. I really can’t do this alone..and I’m all alone…with the exception of all of you, there is no one to hold me, to tell me it will be okay, to hug me, and let me weep on their shoulder. I am so alone — Tracy

23.) I’m in the 2nd year of losing my Mum suddenly to a heart attack. I was 32 at the time. I’ve found this year really hard and so different from the 1st year. The shock of it has gone, and you’re just left with the loss. I’m starting to get back to some sense of a normal life, and it will just hit me sometimes — my Mum died. It still doesn’t seem real, sometimes I feel like I’m living in an alternate reality.
She feels further away from me now too. When she first died, I’d only seen her a week before, and I still felt so close to her. Now she feels so distant and I’m scared of that feeling getting worse, of the memory of her slipping away.

Also, everyone around you has moved on and forgets to check in and ask how you’re doing. One of my neighbours, who I barely know, asked me how I was coping the other da,y and it made me cry because none of my family or close friends even ask anymore.

My advice would be to do what you can to hold on to the parent you lost and keep their memory alive. Have photos of them around, talk about them, go to places you went to with them, and find your own way of keeping them in your life, even if they can’t be there physically anymore. — Lucy

24.) I haven’t gotten to year 2 yet; my dad’s 1st death anniversary is coming next month. I always assumed 2nd year was going to feel worse than the 1st. Every day, I am further away from him, from having seen him, talked to him, heard his laugh, etc. This whole first year feels like maybe he could just be in the hospital or something. But now it’s like my body is realizing he is truly gone. — Katie

25.) I’m a week into year two, and it’s very different. In year on,e I was holding my breath to get to year two; now I’m figuring it out. — Kayley

26.) Just wanted to share that I’m approaching year 2 and feel the same way as you- it’s about to be my second round of holidays without her, and it feels just empty. The loss is just prominent, and the realization that she isn’t coming back is even greater. Definitely a deeper and different kind of grief on some days; it feels like it happened years ago, and some days it feels like it just happened this week. People don’t really ask about it anymore, and it almost feels like I don’t deserve the same kind of “sympathy” in year 2 as I did in year 1, almost like I should’ve grieved it by now and should be okay. — Caroline

27.) I am in the middle of year 2 and it definitely is different than year 1.
The “shock” has faded, but the reality of it hits even harder. I could be having a normal, “good” day, and I’ll have random intrusive thoughts like, “But your Mom is dead.” And then it just strikes all over again. I find the longing and yearning have become worse for me. As I go on to live this new normal, I find myself in more situations where I just want to talk to her and keep her updated with my life. I, too, feel a little more distant from her, but this is where conscious effort has to be made to keep her memory alive. Talking about her, listening to her favorite music, going to places you’ve been with her. It can be difficult, but I think it’s necessary to keep that alive.

The yearning will never go away, and for me, that’s one of the biggest hurdles I’m learning to navigate through,h and I will for the rest of my life. — Andrea

I know it won’t be this bad forever. Grief still comes in waves. It’s nice to know that I am not alone and that there is a whole community out there that understands.
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If this is you and you are in Year 2, hang in there. I’m right there with you.

If you know someone who is in Year 2, understand that grief has no timeline and that time doesn’t always make it better immediately.

*I never refer to Kyle as KBNoSwag. I just put that moniker in my titles for SEO keywords.* 

*CHECK OUT the NEW BOOK about Doug, KB, and Dead Mom on Amazon. Learn more here.  *

It's Thanksgiving week, and I still haven't written a blog for you this month, so I'm going to phone this one in and use a paper I wrote for my high school senior year creative writing class. 

Keep in mind I was 17 at the time, and I hadn't yet quite honed my craft of writing and found my voice. I was still experimenting with introductions, dialogue, and abundance of adjectives and metaphors, and the tasteful art of humor.

This picture is infamous in our Bauer Family History. The picture tells its own story, but it is time that I unearth the true narrative behind the photograph that reveals exactly who we all are as people. 

​Enjoy.

Whitewater rafting - the activity of being moved quickly in a raft along rivers where the current is very strong. That is a standardized definition of the term whitewater rafting.

However, my family somehow overlooked that definition. 

For some reason, the words 'quickly,' 'current,' and 'strong' just did not seem to come to mind. Our picture of the whole recreational sport involved us relaxing in a raft floating happily along the river while basking in the sun with a cold drink in hand, enjoying the picturesque landscape surrounding us. 

Well, that all changed when were seated in our rafts and the guide uttered these words, "Never stop padding through the rapids. If you do, your raft may tip, and we will have to rescue you." 

We knew were in for a treat. 

My mom decided a whitewater rafting adventure would be an auspicious ending to our otherwise, to be blunt, Vacation From Hell (I was probably the only one to have enjoyed myself, but that is a whole different story that may perhaps be told on a later date.). 

We were headed back from New Jersey and, by no means adventitious, would pass right by the exit for the Yough River where Ohiopyle is in western PA. My dad was a bit cautious at first. My mom and I are not exactly poster children for the strong and mighty. Petite would be an adequate word to describe us. My brother was only 12, (the minimum age for the Lower Yough) but yet still has gigantic muscles (added solely on his request). 

My mom reassured my dad that everything would be fine, and all we would be doing was row, row, rowing our rafts gently down the stream....

After spending the night at a local hotel and a half hour drive, we had arrived. The day was cloudy with the sun trying to peak through. I was animated because I love outdoorsy activities and thrill-seeking adventures. Plus this was another feature I could cross out on my list of The Top Ten Things To Do Before I Die. No one had to know that instead of battling rapids that I would be sunbathing. 

my mom, on the other hand, was somewhat peeved about the BO/rive water stench of the life jackets and helmets. What did she think they would smell like? Perfume? Considering all rivers usually carry the aroma of Bath and Body Works. 

While waiting for the bus to take us to the river, my dad who is extremely overconfident, was watching films of brave souls conquering Class V rapids and bragging how he could handle those with no problems. As for my brother, does anyone really know what goes on inside his head? 

We boarded the bus with other members of our expedition (about 15 groups), including a really lively Boy Scout troop, and headed to our rafts that were alongside the river. We sat down in our rafts with our paddles and waited for the guide to give us our instructions. Meanwhile we noticed other guides getting into various groups' boats. We asked them why they had a guide and we did not. They replied by telling us that they paid extra for a guide. 

Strange...why would they pay extra for a guide when all we are doing is gliding along? That doesn't usually require much strength. 

The guide began speaking, and it was not long before our fate was revealed. 

"It is important to remember to never stop paddling while going through the rapids. If you do, the raft may tip, and we would have to rescue you. Someone along the way will most likely fall out. When you do, do not panic and immediately lie on your back or else your feet may get caught in a rock, and that is not good. I'll caution you that the water is freezing...blah, blah, blah...Now let's go have some fun!" 

However, I kind of stopped listening after the first few sentences. I think I was having too much trouble trying to close my gaping mouth. I looked around at my family. They seemed shocked also, except for my dad who claims that the word fear is not in his vocabulary. 

"Your mom wanted to do this. I tried to warn her that the Class III-IV is a little too much for first timers. Do not blame me. Blame her," my dad just had to throw out there. 

The other groups had begun carrying their rafts down to the river. Needless to say, that was an arduous task for us. My mom complained that the raft was too heavy and basically made no attempt at all. My brother could barely reach the raft once it was over our heads. I put in some effort but to no avail. My dad had to do all the work, and by the time we had gotten the raft into the water he was in a surly mood.

As one could probably guess, our whitewater rafting did not start out too well. We basically turned in circles while bumping into other groups. My dad, who had been appointed captain, was desperately trying to read the guide's signals while shouting loudly. Above my dad's shouting, my mom, too, decided to chime in yelling her own instructions. On top of all this, I was crying out for my dad to stop being mean and for my mom to chill. Complete chaos would describe this scene right now. Did I mention we had not even reached the rapids yet? 

We somehow managed to fall in place and row forward. 

"The first rapid will be coming up. It is called 'Entrance Rapid'. Follow my hand signals and watch out for the hydraulics and irregular waves," announced the guide. 

What in the heck did hydraulics mean? I did not have time to ask. I would like to say that we successfully made it through, but that would be lying. 

When we got to the rapid, we panicked, stopped paddling, and completely ignored the hand signals. Of course, my dad never stopped rowing and yelling even when I fell backwards and whacked him in the head with my paddle in spite of the numerous times that guide told us to be careful with the paddle. Never did he stop paddling even when our raft turned all the way around and my mom screeched that she was incapable of paddling from the right side; however, she is right-handed. He finally stopped rowing when we had reached the end. 

The look on his face could kill. He chastised us for not paddling and admonished me for the paddle incident. At this time, I began to laugh and told him not to take this so seriously and have some fun. I guess being almost knocked unconscious is a matter to be taken seriously because he did not cheer up. He mumbled something about this being Mom's idea. 

We were quickly approaching "Cucumber Rapid," Our picture was to be taken (see the main picture which depicts our mood throughout the trip perfectly). "Cucumber Rapid" was not as difficult. We made it through without falling out, turning around, or whacking anyone; nonetheless, Mom, my brother, and I still forgot to paddle (see picture), and Mom still shouted random instructions that were of no value at all. By the end of "Cucumber Rapid," I actually deemed it sort of fun. I am pretty certain my dad smiled, and my mom may have taken a moment to breathe and close her mouth. 

As the time passed and a few more rapids conquered, we got to be, what I would say, "good." Once underdogs, we were not almost the leader of the pack. Like in all things, once considered "good", a drive to be the best is evident. Whitewater rafting is no different, and some minds want to be the best out of a 15-group excursion. 

In this case that would be Greg Bauer's mind. He fathomed this idea what we should be the number one group of the pack, and no rest would be allowed until the task was accomplished. 

Every one of us is competitive, and we accepted the challenge. I am proud to say, and by no means am I being a braggart, that we prevailed. I am not saying it was easy.

We had our setbacks: my mom's constant drone of how much her arms ached and how she smelled BO; my brother's falling out of the raft when were not even going through a rapid; our raft getting pinned to a rock and filling with water as we sat and watched it happen; some other groups' competition; and the "Dimple Rapid" Incident, which I thought would be our downfall. 

As we approached "Dimple Rapid," the guide told us that this one would be the hardest yet. Of course, we were confident. After all we were the number one group.

The rapids were fierce, the hydraulics were tough, the force was immense. Mom almost knocked me out. 

One time I happened to glance back. Dad was gone! "Where's Dad?" I shouted to my brother, Kyle. Kyle informed me that Dad had fallen out. Kyle never even told us! You would think that losing my dad would be a key detail not to leave out. 

Kyle assumed role as captain as Dad was being rescued. It makes me wonder if Kyle pushed Dad over in order to be captain..

In short, Kyle was a horrible captain. I nearly lost all self-control when he yelled for me to paddle, but I could not because my side of the raft was pinned to a rock. 

Dad finally came back, and we decided to relax until the end since we had already obtained our goal. The rushing river and the gigantic trees that hovered above us were really majestic once we took the time to look at them. When we had a goal to work toward, we all learned to cooperate and work together. That was my dad's whole plan all along (I hope). 

Fatigue and soreness overcame us on the way home, but we all agreed that that would not be the last time we rowed our raft gently down the stream, for life is but a dream. 

Lauren Bauer
English - 2nd Period
​November 14, 2005

Wow! While copying this paper, I would predict what I would write now, and it turned out to be the same thing my 17-year old brain wrote. Pretty cool. 

This trip was a core memory, and one we would talk about for years afterwards. What were we thinking not having a guide? Well, it made for quite a story. 

We all ended up going whitewater rafting again,  but this trip will always be the most memorable. 

Thanks for coming along this journey with me.

First 4 people to tip me this month will get a signed Doug Wanoy copy of Henry's Hiccups for Deaf Awareness Month. 
​
And if you're a parent, check out my parenting guide Now What? Mindful Parenting Checklists for Life’s Hard Moments. 

The Bauers have had some unique hobbies over the years, and it seems that mythical map-making has made its way down to the youngest generation—my son. 

When it’s Doug’s turn, he picks Henry (he has yet to choose a moniker for himself - another hobby Bauers have dabbled in) up from kindergarten and brings him to Lorraine’s, a local coffee shop run by coffee connoisseur Lorainne. The coffee shop also doubles as a driving school run by enterprising entrepreneur Lorraine and an entertainment venue run by legendary, boisterous bluegrass singer Lorraine. The lore of Lorraine runs deep.

Doug and Henry order coffee and a cold hot chocolate, respectively. The duo then perch on their high top, spread out their map-making materials, and meticulously go to work making magic on the territory of Henryville (again, we need some work in the name titling department). 

Henryville features 5 main neighborhoods: China, Vernot, North Carolina, Canada, and India.

Nearly all the neighborhoods feature Mean Birdy (played by Doug Wanoy) - a resident who wreaks havoc upon the whole town by pooping on things and squawking in another native, Henry’s (played by Henry), ear. Henry, fortunately, can retreat to his lake house out in the country, but Mean Birdy always finds a way to foil Henry’s rest and relaxation. 

Another trope of Henryville is that the sovereign nation always features shoddy infrastructure dilemmas. The state’s head civil engineer, Henry (played by Henry), is called upon to rebuild broken roads, stabilize rundown bridges, and repair collapsed buildings. While Henry works diligently on his restoration project, he is interrupted by a phone call from the mayor played by Doug Wanoy. The mayor, without fail, scolds Henry for taking too long. Henry gets annoyed. The mayor threatens Henry. Henry saves the day. 

​

Breaking down each district, we will start with CHINA. China houses the police department and is the safest, albeit, the strictest of the five neighborhoods. Residents here aren’t known for having fun. Their vernacular largely consists of words related to work. They strongly live by five main pillars: Labor, Chores, Projects, Duties, and Assignments. Labor refers to their job. Chores consist of what they do around the house. Projects reference the passion project each member focuses on. Duties allude to how they serve the greater community. Assignments constitute the work they do for higher education. All residents strive to complete each of the five pillars each day. 

Henry spends the least time in this city as the area is generally neat and sturdy. The retention pond and pocket park are well maintained.

Some notable residents of this area are Chief of Police Chad, a four-time state champion in football who always vows to be tough on crime. However, everyone knows he frequently visits North Carolina and India to engage in debauchery and lives in China just for appearances. 

Married couple Simon and Betty Li also reside in the neighborhood. They both have PhDs, and their life’s work has been devoted to the sciences. They generally despise Chad as they think he is a buffoon but put up with him due to their beliefs that local politics and bureaucracy are malarky and below them intellectually. They also do a remarkable job of keeping Mean Birdy away thanks to their patent-pending invention of Wordy Birdy, a communication tool that helps them mimic and speak the language of birds. Mean Birdy respects them tremendously. It also helps that Henry is often not in this neighborhood. 

Chad puts up with the dynamic duo because, without them, the neighborhood would collapse. Chad knows this but is too proud to admit it. This is why he drinks every night. 

​

Moving on to the neighboring village of VERNOT, visitors will find the quirky and eccentric residents of Henryville. The streets of Vernot are filled with hipsters working at coffee shops and ice cream shops with names like The Daily Grind and The Vernot Creamery. 

Most noteworthy is the neighborhood’s Robot Park, a Henry and Doug production. Little kids and adults alike flock to the park during all seasons. The train station is nearby, so guests can conveniently ride the train here.

Sven Larsson, a Swedish designer, lives in one of the mid-century modern split-level houses in the neighborhood. He had a large hand in designing Robot Park.

Sven dates local bookstore and boutique owner Ashley Parker. Ashley lives with her twin sister, Hannah, in a modest cottage on the outskirts of the neighborhood. Hannah owns a bakery and has recently become engaged to a big-city guy, Pilot Pete who lives in Canada. 

Lastly, retired partners Reginald and Archibald live in an apartment in the middle of the neighborhood. In their mid-60s, they have taken Ashley and Hannah under their wings and frequently host dinner parties and themed nights. Most recently, their Halloween party boasted over 100 guests. It is rumored that Chad snuck in with a costume of a sumo wrestler even though he’s been very public with his disdain for the lifestyles and decisions of Reginald and Archibald along with the rest of the neighborhood. He tried to flirt with Hannah even though she’s 20 years younger than him. She rebuked his advances. 

The people of China do not get along with the people of Vernot, for they criticize their relaxed and carefree ways. The people of Vernot pay the people of China no mind. 

​

The third neighborhood of Henryville is NORTH CAROLINA. North Carolina has one thing and one thing only. The high school, Henry High, and the football field, Henry High House Stadium. Chad was made here. He ran the halls of Henry High with his best friend, Bob (commonly known as Construction Bob now). Chad, the quarterback, and Bob, the running back, never miss a Friday Night Lights with their lettermen jackets in tow albeit 50 pounds heavier. They sit in the same seats and chew on sunflower seeds while cursing the refs, complaining about their wives, Sandy and Debbie, former cheerleaders, and reminiscing on the good old days. Their wives stay at home and take care of their combined 11 kids. Bob lives right next to the stadium and the bar, Seniors, which frequently has patrons who are both seniors in high school and seniors in age bracket. Chad wishes he lived here, too. 

​

The last neighborhood is INDIA. The fire station is here. Fire chief, Fred and his wife Jasmine live right next to the station. Fred is one of the most upstanding citizens of Henryville, and his business acumen is topnotch. He absolutely cannot stand Chad who regularly hangs out in this neighborhood because there is a subsidiary police station and, of course, another bar called Poor Pours. Chad’s eldest son, Gary, rents a house in this neighborhood and loves breaking the law and hosting house parties with high school and college students even though he’s 25. Fred’s life mission, besides putting out fires, is bringing down Chad. 

​

In the countryside of Henryville is a cute little lake house surrounded by fields and flowers. Henry currently stays here in hopes of evading the tyranny of Doug and Mean Birdy who are always trying to cause him much-needed stress. His passion is building cities and making Henryville into the best city it can be, and the two evil villains are always trying to put a stop to Henry’s accomplishments.

Recently, Henry made the news for some of his latest projects. Please watch below.

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​I have always been amazed and thankful at the creativity and imagination my parents bestowed upon us. I am glad in my mom’s short time with Henry that she imparted some of this creativity on him and that my dad continues to do so. What is your favorite city? 

CHECK OUT the NEW BOOK about Doug, KB, and Dead Mom on Amazon. Learn more here. 
 
First 5 people to tip me this month will get a signed Doug Wanoy copy of Henry's Hiccups for Deaf Awareness Month. 
​
And if you're a parent, check out my parenting guide Now What? Mindful Parenting Checklists for Life’s Hard Moments. 

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If you are in the field of teaching, it’s no secret that the state of education has its flaws. It’s also no secret that the past year has been sad for me. 

So toward the end of last year and the start of this year, I decided to bring back some fun to the classroom and add some levity despite all the seriousness of high-stakes testing, politics, school shootings, drama on social media, and the rise of anxiety in teens. 

In the process, my classroom is becoming dangerously close to the Yak (APPROPRIATELY). 

In my class, there are nine students plus me.

Mentally, I’ve assigned each student to a member of the Yak. But because I’m an utmost example of a professional I will not be using students’ real names and will instead be using fake names. Try to see which member of the Yak corresponds to my students. Guess in the comments who matches to whom.

THE YAK

• Big Cat 
• Brandon
• Titus
• KB
• Nick
• Kate
• Steven Cheah
• TJ
• Zah
• A special appearance by Frank the Tank

___________________________________________________
MY CLASS

• Ms. Barrett
• Ronny
• Zoe
• Rick
• Devaughn 
• B 
• Skyler
• Nae
• Ivan
• Jenna Gray

 Some Yak Members will be played by girls. 

Some of the these conversations and situations are real ones that we've had in class and some have been altered for dramatic effect.

This is something entirely different than my normal style of writing. I hope you like it. It might be a complete miss, but I had fun writing it. 

Ms. Barrett: Good afternoon! So what’s up, guys? I missed you guys over the weekend. What’s going on?

B walks in late. Sits close to me. 

Ms. Barrett: B is here. 

B: Sorry I’m late. My ab workout was postponed. I got q’d up at the bell tower. Alex G. Bell got that line on hold for real though. No cap, Ms. B. Trust. 

Ms. Barrett: 

B: 

Ms. Barrett: 

B: There was a long line at Taco Bell, and it took a while to order my Cheesy Gordita Crunch. 

Ms. Barrett stifles back hilarious laughter. 

Nae:  Damn. That’s good. 

Ivan: Laughs. 

Skyler: Fist pumps B. 

B: Yeah. So many fatties in line tryin’ to order the whole menu, but I brought you a taco, Ms. B. Want one? 

Ms. Barrett: Thanks, B. But because you’re late, you can either take the tardy, or we can spin the punishment wheel. 

Nae: What’s the punishment wheel?

Ms. Barrett: I’m glad you asked, Nae. We went over it on the first day of school. You weren’t here. 

Nae: I have so many other classes. 

Ms. Barrett: Well, I’m glad to see that you dropped one of your classes to make room for this class. It’s at the same time every day 11:15 Eastern Time (10:15 Central). 

Ivan: Why did we need to know the Central Time? 

Ms. Barrett: No reason. 

Nae: I was fixin’ to get an A in ‘Merica History and they just dropped my ass out of that class. Canceled it. 

Skyler: Nae, I talked to Mama, and she said this new schedule is good for you. 

Nae: Whatcha talkin’ to my mama for? 

Ronny: Your mama is such a delight. 

Skyler: Want Ms. Barrett to get it back? She’ll get the class back for you. 

Ms. Barrett: I’ll get it back for you. I’ll talk to the principal and try to get that class back for you. Anyway, the punishment wheel. 

Devaughn: Interrupts the flow of the class with a fit of coughing and hacking. He, then, goes on a rant about  the Nets - the internet, interweb, WI-FI - not working fast enough, so he can play his Roblox. 

Everyone looks around and starts murmuring. 

All (whispering): He’s got to go. He needs to leave. Ms. B., get him out of this class. 

Ms. Barrett (ignoring the group’s consensus): So, you can take the tardy in PowerSchools. Per school policy, many tardies equals lunch detention or ISS or you can spin the Punishment Wheel. On the Punishment Wheel are things like making a phone call to someone. This generation doesn’t know how to talk on the phone. Doing an act of kindness. Writing a grammatically correct paragraph. Reading silently. Or the gauntlet. 

Nae: What’s the gauntlet? 

Ms. Barrett: Glad you asked, Nae. The gauntlet will consist of throwing a ball against the door. You got to catch it 10x with each hand. You then have to speed walk all around the library loop. Come back. Make one ping pong into the basket. Then, name 5 states on Sporcle. 

B: NAME 5 STATES? I can’t do that! 

Ms. Barrett: Hmm… You don’t know the states? I wrote you differently in my head. I might have mischaracterized you a bit. 

B: What? 

Ms. Barrett: Never mind. 

Skyler: You got this, bro. 

Ronny: I have such anxiety about this. 

Ms. Barrett: Okay, today is Morphological Monday. We will learn the NOT prefix family. 

Skyler: What’s a prefix? 

Ms. Barrett: You should have learned that already. You’re a sen-...

Skyler (winking): I’ve only been here a year.

Ms. Barrett: Oh right, everyone. Skyler is a sophomore. Happy one year of being at this school, Skyler. 

Ms. Barrett: The first prefix in the family is Dis-. 

Nae: Starts to walk out of the classroom. 

Ms. Barrett: Nae? Where are you going? 

Nae: My DoorDash is here with my Chick-Fil-A. 

Ms. Barrett: Before you go, can you do our High School ad read?

Nae: What? 

Ms. Barrett: I’m doing a bit. Just go with it. Read this. 

Nae: It’s time to load up on the fries and break out the oversized T-shirts because the High School Concession Endzone Pack is here. It includes limited edition fan faves, pizza and pom poms, along with ring pops and koozies. The High School Endzone Pack is a fall exclusive which means it’s here for a good time, not a long time. Visit High School Spirits.com before your next Friday Night Lights to find a pack near you. 

Ms. Barrett: Let’s look at some words that start with the prefix dis-. Disown. What does that mean? 

Ivan: Not to own anymore. Get rid of.  

B: Like how I’m about to disown my cat, Drummer Bones, if she claws my feet in the middle of the night one more time. 

Skyler: No, dude, bro. No, don't even, oh dude. Not Drummer.  

B: Bro, I got her on lockdown mode. 

Skyler: You know you like it when she’s sassy though. 

B: You know I do. 

Skyler and B at the same time: Ohhh shit. Fist bumps. 

Ms. Barrett: Let me buy something for Drummer. Ok new word - disbelief. 

Ronny:  I saw on Tik Tok that Beethoven is dropping a new single. I’m in disbelief. 

Nae: But isn’t that ni-

Ivan: Whoa, there Nae. I know you have said that before, but here? 

Nae: I’m allowed to say it. What I was going to say is this: Isn’t that nineteen century classical composer dead though?

Skyler: I think he died in the 18th century. 

Ms. Barrett: Zoe, can you pull up a picture of Beethoven. 

Zoe: Huh?

Devaughn: Interrupts the flow of the class with a fit of coughing and hacking. 

Someone from outside my classroom: Get him out of here. 

Someone else from outside my classroom: That cough wasn’t even that bad. 

Someone from outside my classroom: But he’s taking up too much room in that classroom. There needs to be an empty chair in case Ms. Barrett ever has students stop by. 

Ms. Barrett: We'll let the wheel decide if he stays. 

Zoe: Mozart dropped a new single. Not Beethoven. 

Ronny: Ohh darn it. I got my facts wrong again. 

Skyler: Ohh no, shucks, guys, I got my 18th Century Classical Composers wrong again. 

Ms. Barrett: Was Mozart the deaf one? 

Ivan: I believe it was Beethoven. 

B: Yeah he was on some of that Helen Keller shit. I’m in disbelief. How is a deaf guy composing music?

Skyler: Something is fishy about that. 

Ronny: They have some crazy ass names too. 

Skyler: Ludwig. Wolfgang.

All: Laughs

B: Wolfgang is a wild name. 

Skyler: Hello, this is little Wolfgang. He’ll be joining us in kindergarten. 

B: Awooooo. 

Nae: What about Bach? 

Ivan: Chopin. 

Ms. Barrett: I think we are missing the point? What do you mean Mozart dropped new music? He’s dead. 

Skyler: Would you say you’re in disbelief? 

Jenna Gray: According to Google, the seven-movement piece is believed to have been written in the mid to late 1760s, when Mozart was a teenager.

Ms. Barrett: Holy crap. Jenna Gray is here. I didn’t see you way over there behind your computer. 

Jenna Gray: Yep, I’m here. 

Ms. Barrett: What’s going on? How are you?

Jenna Gray: I made a mug cake today in Foods class. 

Ms. Barrett: What’s a mug cake? 

B: I think it’s has crumbled oreo and pudding to look like mud. 

Jenna Gray: No. Mug cake. 

Ms. Barrett: Are you saying mud or mug? 

Jenna Gray: Mug as in my favorite place to keep pennies I find off the ground. 

Ms. Barrett: That’s a crazy example for mug! 

Ivan:(Groans) You’re infuriating. 

Ms. Barrett: Notices Rick writing on the table. 

Rick has written on the table. “Want a BBL call this number.”

Skyler: Uh oh, it must be horny hours for Rick. You dawg, Rick. 

Ms. Barrett: More like WARN-y Hours. This is your warning not to write that kind of stuff again. I will write you up. 

Nae: The other night I was just relaxing, being cool, you know, like I am and this woman gonna come up to me and say, Nae, I said, yeah, that's my name. 

Ms. Barrett: Don’t finish that. 

Skyler: I love when BerNAE Mac shows up. 

Ms. Barrett: So Gray what’s on the prep sheet today? 

Jenna Gray: What? 

Ms. Barrett: I mean anything you want to talk about? Anything on your mind? 

Jenna Gray: No? 

Ms. Barrett: That’s odd. I guess you weren’t prepared. 

Ms. Barrett: Let’s continue with our next NOT Family prefix - non-. What do we think nonperishable means? 

Ronny: Non- means not. Isn’t perish like to die or something? 

B: Not able to die. 

Ms. Barrett: Yes, now let’s think of it in terms of food. Like a canned food drive you want to collect nonperishable foods. 

Skyler: Not able to spoil or rot. Like canned food. 

Nae: Oh like canned sardines. Mama used to make that for me growing up. 

Skyler: Eww, dude, that’s nasty. 

Ronny: Oh no, it’s good. Put a little mayo on it and you got yourself a delightful treat. 

B: Crackers. Ritz crackers is another example. 

Skyler: The BEST crackers, bro. 

Ivan: No way, the club crackers are superior. 

Ronny: Saltines. 

Ms. Barrett: Canned cranberries are the best. 

Skyler: Should we tier nonperishable foods? 

Ms. Barrett: Zoe, pull it up. 

Zoe: What? 

Class continues. 

B: Ms. B, can I get some of that special water? 

Ms. Barrett: You’ve all earned it. You’ve been working hard. 

Ms. Barrett walks the class into the small break room with the fridge and the filtered water. They all say the creed over the “special water,” and she pours them a glass of the water. 

The class continues on a little bit more. 

Ms. Barrett: Well, the bell is about to ring. Before we go let's do our picks for the week. My bet is that B will be late 2x this week to class.  B, Skyler, you have a parlay for us?

Skyler: I'm taking the Felix Gray B Seein' Parlay.

Ms. Barrett: 

Skyler: Jenna Gray forgets her glasses over 3 times this week and B takes your bluelight glasses because he thinks they look good on him over 3 times this week. 

All : Laughs

Ms. Barrett: Whatcha got, B? 

B: Go Go Grease Lightning Parlay. 

Ms. Barrett: Let's hear it. 

B: We'll go Devaughn will have 10 coughing fits in one class period and Sandy will bang on your door and interrupt your class 5 times week. You'll tell them both to, 'Go, go' while pointing to the door. 

Ms. Barrett: Nae, any quick picks? 

Nae: 

Ms. Barrett: Well, on that note, It's The Class. See you tomorrow, everyone. 

 
🎵It’s The Class.

It’s The Class.

Get your water Barrett style and stay for a while. (Yo, Zoe turn that down)

It’s The Class.

It’s The Class.

Yeah it’s time to be cringe and do a prefix binge

It’s The Class. 🎵

Zoe stays behind. She’s the last one left in class to close her laptop. 

Zoe: Thank you. Bye. Love you. 

Ms. Barrett turns off the light and the room goes dark. 

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CHECK OUT the NEW BOOK about Doug, KB, and Dead Mom on Amazon. Learn more here. 
 
First 7 people to tip me this month will get a signed Doug Wanoy copy of Henry's Hiccups for Deaf Awareness Month. 
​
And if you're a parent, check out my parenting guide Now What? Mindful Parenting Checklists for Life’s Hard Moments.