6 of the best years of my life.

He was supposed to have Down's Syndrome. At least according to the dink doctor who called us one Saturday afternoon demanding we get in ASAP to have an amniocentesis. When I informed this idiot that whether he did or didn't have it he was our son and we were having him I got a prolonged silence as a response.

Which makes it the only time since he's been conceived that Rakes and silent were used in the same sentence.

If you've read this blog you are fully aware that while Rakes has a lot of things, Down's isn't one of them.

During delivery the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck; didn't even slow him down. For the past 6 years he's provided more joy and more chaos and more noise than anything that small should ever be able to produce.

He's my first born son who lives his life at 95 mph and 1000 decibels every minute and every day and even though he'll kill me someday for posting a picture of him in a wife beater with a taco sauce stain on it during his birthday, I told him 100 times to go change and he ignored me every time.

Which is classic Rakes in a nutshell. One thing I'll never have to worry about is Rakes following the crowd. He's a proud member of the "Dance to the beat of my own drum" crowd and it's reason 5, 698 that I love the little guy.

Happy 6th Birthday tomorrow, Rakes.

I love you little man.

Rudolph may need a better agent.

Every year the small town I live in holds a Hanging of the Greens on the Friday before Thanksgiving, complete with a picture with Santa, Rudolph and Frosty roaming the main street and every teenager in a 5 mile radius clogging up the main thoroughfare.

Amid worrying about Jason Bay rejecting the Sox original offer of 4 years and $60 million and wondering why in the name of all that is holy did I let Ang talk me into getting Rakes a trampoline for his birthday (more on that at a later date) I found myself walking down the closed off street of my own personal Mayberry trying to keep Trot and Rakes from mowing down some unsuspecting passerby.

We saw Frosty (Rakes and Ciera jumped at the chance to see him while Trot burst into tears. Not sure why but I'm just grateful he didn't kick the poor guy in the gibleys before running off), Rudolph (for some reason a guy in a reindeer costume didn't frighten him while a guy in a snowman suit may cost me thousands in therapy fees) and managed to get a picture with Santa.

This ALMOST didn't happen as right before it was our turn, Trot went positively bonkers about "WHERE ARE THE REINDEER AND WHY CAN'T I PET THEM?" while Rakes did his best to diffuse the situation by reminding his brother that the reindeer were probably in the barn pooping and Ciera kept asking if she could go into the boutique store and browse while we were "just standing around". Meanwhile I'm wondering whether it'll be my heart or my mind that is eventually just going to say "Screw all this. I'm taking a vacation to parts unknown".

We made it through with no casualties, unless you're gonna count Trot running into Frosty's groin at full speed when we saw him 30 minutes later; in my opinion, dude brought in on himself for agreeing to wear that ridiculous thing in the first place.

Get ready.

"Tis the season.

Just Trot being Trot.

I'd like to think that way back when the Pilgrims and the Indians sat down for the inaugural Thanksgiving feast there was a young child who spent the entire dinner talking incessantly, antagonizing his siblings, getting more food on the floor than in his mouth, and needing to be hosed down afterword.

That would REALLY help me mentally.

A LOT.

Wearing his camouflage pants, his light up Buzz Lightyear shoes, and a rebellious streak a mile long, Trot's pre-school had it's annual Thanksgiving program today where they sang songs, did a skit, and just looked cute in general.

Naturally, Trot didn't sing a word, turned around at one point with his back to the audience and put his hands on his ears (I'm guessing to show his displeasure with the actual singing but it could've just been his form of protest for not getting to be an Indian. With him, who knows?) and spent about 3 minutes furiously digging with his right pointer finger in his left nostril for every child, parent, grandparent, and disgusted onlooker to witness.

Me?

I was just happy he didn't drop trou at some point.

It's 50/50 at this point whether we're allowed to come back next year.

With Apologies to Bono, I need Baseball like a needle needs a vein.

I just spent the last 2 hours watching the movie "Alien Nation". James Caan is the grizzled, whiskey drinking cop and Mandy Patinkin (Idigo Montoya from the Princess Bride) as the goofy alien, and a plot straight out of Miami Vice.

And the answer is yes; I love this movie.

THIS is why I need baseball. Without it, I spend countless hours revisiting the 90's and all the bad movies, music, and tv shows that helped make me the total idiot I now resemble.

Forget 3 months. How am I gonna make 3 days?

*Image courtesy of www.fotosearch.com*

It's Tuesday November 17th. The boys are asleep, Ciera and Ang are downstairs watching something called "The Duggars" (I think it involves self-absorbed idiotic parents who decided to have an entire 52 man football team and thought it was a good idea to put on tv but I'm too scared to ask) and I'm lost.

Fenway Park sits cold and empty, the season is over, and it's around 3 months until the sound of a ball landing in a mitt is going to come from Florida. There isn't an NFL game until Thursday and I've got "NCIS: Los Angeles" on in the background, starring Chris O'Connell. Dude went from sharing the big screen with Al Freaking Pacino in "Scent of a Woman" to working a spin-off tv show with LL Cool J; 'course I sell furniture for a living so who am I to criticize?

All I know is if I didn't have a family to love over and try and keep out of reform school, I'm pretty sure I'd lose my sanity during the winter; I have no idea how my friends who are single actually make it to Spring without ending up on the evening news for completely losing it at the checkout line in Walmart.

Throw in the Hot Stove heating up and every liquored up yahoo from Massachusetts to Los Angeles is speculating on who the Sox are going to give up to acquire Adrian Gonzales, Roy Halladay, or the bat boy from Oakland and I've got a headache that a morphine drip couldn't touch.

It's times like these I remember that "fan" is short for "fanatic" and remind myself I'm not alone.

Wonder if Santa Clause keeps his eye on the free agent list?

Top 5 Sports Stories of the Day

1. My previously inept Redskins somehow manage to beat the Broncos. This ranks right up there with the Jets over the Colts in Super Bowl III, Taylor Swift over Kenny Chesney at the CMA's the other night, and me over Einstein in a battle of the wits. How does this sort of thing happen? Personally, I'm giving all credit to the voodoo dolls I had Trot make last night before he went to sleep.

2. Word coming out that Billy Wagner may consider returning to the Red Sox in a non-closer role. Nothing would make me happier than having his 98 mph, left handed throwing fastball sitting out in the bullpen come the 8th inning. Ranking only slightly behind that are his post-game interviews, complete with half a can of Skoal in his lower lip and him looking like he'd rather stuff the interviewer on his office wall than answer "So, Billy. How do you feel?"

3. The Hot Stove. Somewhere in a top secret location Theo is trying to figure out how to fleece the Padres for Adrian Gonzalez, what exactly Jason Bay is worth, and is it possible to get a Short Stop made of titanium, solid steel, and impervious to injury and the dreaded throw into the 5th row behind first.

4. Is it remotely possible that a meteor can hit the Yankees spring training site in February and while not causing any deaths, still create an atmosphere of chaos and mayhem that will last the entire 2010 season?

5. If everything plays out I could be 6-4 and sitting in fourth place in my fantasy football league come tomorrow morning. You could go to Mars and find some wet behind the ears alien baby and it would still be better in Fantasy Football than me, so when I tell you this is big you're just gonna have to trust me. In fact, this is entering the Rocky beating Apollo, The Bad News Bears beating the Yankees, and the Red Sox coming back from three games down in '04 territory. Years from now, songs may be sung about this very era.

More than likely I'll end up on the outside looking in and wondering what if but it's still pretty flipping nice.

When is Truck Day again?

Missing You

Is it April yet?