I convinced 4. I was crushed.

That day, I doused my dream with lighter fluid, lit it on fire and stomped on its charred remains. I'm not good at dealing with failure.

Keep the above backstory in mind. Let me move onto the topic of the day: wipes. I'm thinking by now you've clued into the fact that I'm doing this campaign for Huggies. Before all this, I honestly thought "pfft. wipes are wipes." In fact, right after the wipes Huggies sent me ran out, we went and bought some el cheapo ones. They ripped on me. Multiple times. Right as I was grabbing them out of our dispenser. Right when Lessi was pooping mid-change. I wish someone were there to take a picture of me every time I stood dumbfounded, one hand hoisting my baby's legs, the other hand weilding a torn-off corner of a bargain baby wipe. FAILblog gold.

And the other day, out of the blue, d wife texted me wistfully about the days when we had the "good wipes." The pain is real, ladies and gentlemen.

Huggies, you inspired me. Not only to wipe with confidence, but also to tell the world through advertising how good your wipes are. Today, my dream rises up from the ashes. Leo Burnett executive number 5, eat your heart out.

By the way, I'm giving away 5 tubs of the good stuff. If you have a baby or anything else you'd like wiped, leave a comment with a good poop story of your own. Or tell me how awesome I am at commercials. I'll randomly draw a winner next week.

Grandpa savored life. He loved his family, loved a bloody prime rib, loved riding his bikes, and loved a good bargain. A true weekend yardsale marauder, he was. Where do you think he bought all those assorted bikes? As sad as we were that he was no longer with us, we looked upon this as a chance to spend time together as a solid branch of the family tree that he and my grandma nurtured for over a half a century.

Because it was long overdue.

This picture below? Has never happened in our family history. All five of his grandchildren in one place at the same time. We've always been too busy living our respective lives in Houston, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Boston and who knows where else to let our grandma smell-kiss all our heads and take a picture with her.

By the way, it totally messes with your mind when you find out that the cousin you haven't seen since she was 3 is now an architect (top right).

It's also quite awesome to be able to buy your cousins a round of brews in Harvard Square.

And then take them to check out your freshman dorm, regaling them with tales of... well not much actually. College wasn't all it was cracked up to be. But being on campus after not setting foot on its hallowed grounds for 16 years (stop doing math in your head. I'm just old, ok?) really rocked. As I'm trying to pantomime below.

Being home also meant spending quality time with mom. Here's me going to the pub, while mom waits in the car.

Before you all throw internet rocks at me, I did invite her to come with. This was the night she was shuttling everyone from the airport, and we had 20 minutes to kill before we had to get my sister. She knows I need my Guinness. And she just wanted to rest. We both got what we wanted.

It was also quite amusing to see my old room. Since moving out in 1990, my mom has turned my room into her office. But she kept my posters on the wall, like an embarrasing time capsule.

If you follow me on Twitter, you may have seen me talking about what a gigantic fish nerd I am. Well, here's proof:

Freshwater Bass of Norh America, yo. Ladies, control yourselves.

This one actually redeems my hip cred a little bit. A flyer I took from a club when I saw Social Distortion in the early 90's.

I had a Facebook page in 1990. This one had staples in it, and it was really hard to change your profile pic. Otherwise, I totally would have.

Whenever I go home to Boston, I have to bring back one thing: a decent cannoli. This means that I dragged my cousins under the guise of sightseeing to the North End, Boston's version of Little Italy. The North End is beautiful. Here's a thousand words to describe it:

But of course, it's also a tourist attraction, so that means lots of restaurants with TVs... playing every iconic "Italian American" movie ever made, on repeat.

These damn tourists also make it as hard to buy a cannoli as it is to ride Space Mountain. This meant there was no way I was going to subject my cousins to it. This decision was followed by the customary "no cannoli for me" version of that scene from Platoon.

Upon picking up on my subtle despair, my cousin Laurinda said "Wait. You were on a food mission? I didn't realize this was a food mission. I never give up on a food mission! We're going to wait in line!"

We are family. All my crazy cousins and me.

Because you have to be, in order to wait in a line like this for a pastry item.

Well, not exactly "a"... make that a whole stinkin' box of 20!!

We ate well that night. On the sidewalk. And people actually tried to buy some from me. I told them they could have my cannoli when they pried it out of my cold sticky hands.

The next morning, I said goodbye to my house...

And my city...

... and returned home.

Come on kids! We've gone over this. The "Children of Asian parents" contract clearly stipulates Ivy League souvenir clothing items in the Terms and Conditions.

Grandpa, thank you for giving us the strong roots to make all this possible.

In memory of Cheng-Hwa Lin 1916 - 2010

Uninspired nicknames aside, I like being a part of this family, and I do understand that with it, comes certain duties. The main one being working the family blog with my brother. Well, at least it's not planting rice. All hail the digital age!

So, readers of the Lin Family blog, I'd like to drop some wisdom on you today. You may be smart grown-ups and stuff, but I know a thing or two about good living, because I don't have a boss, a lienholder or kids. Also, I haven't learned how to do a proper topical segway, so here goes.

A genuine smile can make someone's day.

It can also cause a chain reaction. Especially if you tweet it.

Dads are great, but never as good as moms.

No boobies. Sorry dad, you lose.

Allow yourself to be mesmerized.

This dragonfly is awesome. It moves back and forth. It is colorful. And when it stops, all I have to do is cry and someone will make it move again. The basic principles of physics and social manipulation rolled into one. Fascinating. Which brings me to my next tidbit (oh, I'm starting to get this segway thing)...

To get what you want, sometimes you've got to make some noise.

You might get passed around a lot, but eventually someone will break down and carry/bounce you in endless laps around the living room at 4am. At least he got to watch 3 episodes of Dexter while doing it.

Fall asleep in the car. There is nothing better.

I learned that from my big brother.

No wait -- a burp and a nap. That pretty much rules the world.

Case closed.

Poop (in a well-shaped diaper, no less) is love.

Ok, well, creation is love, but until I can churn out drawings that you can adoringly stick on the fridge, poop is all I got in that department.

p-p-p-pooper face p-p-pooper faceIn fact, just the other day, when dad had to fly to Boston, I showed him just how much I loved him by making a good-bye poop. I even timed it perfectly to when we had to rush out the door. He laughed, put down his bags and changed me while mom and Fury waited in the car. After he gave me a fresh new diaper I thought since he would be gone for a few days, another expression of love was in order. He looked at his watch, smiled once more and opened my second present and began to change me. This time I thought "how about one for the road?" I didn't even bother to wait for the new diaper.

I've never heard the phrase "oh my #$%@ no %^$# way!" but I think it means "that's the best going away present ever! You're the best!"

Well, that's all I got for now. I've only been around a few months. I'll think up some more later. But first, I'm going to shop these gems of knowledge to a fortune cookie company. They may pay better than dad. 

[BusyDad covering his butt: I have partnered with the Huggies® brand to help promote Huggies® Little Movers Diapers. They paid me in cash and diapers, (which just sounds more like a ransom arrangement than a business one) in exchange for neglecting my wife to write about my experiences from my daughter’s point of view here and on HighChairCritics.com. Which, come to think of it, is who I should use that cash on, if I know what's good for me. My opinions and absurdity are entirely my own, because I'm sure Huggies isn't some crazy Asian guy punch drunk on parenting and lack of sleep.]

It isn't pretty. It never is. Mostly because the worst offenders are always so cute. They fully distract you with their angelic cooing, full-cheeked smiles and tiny feet. Oh, the feet! And by the time most victims realize what's happening, they're a full arm's reach and at least 4 seconds of unfolding time away from a fresh, tightly secured diaper.

Mid-Change Pooing. The grisliest of baby-on-parent crimes.

I was recently called in to investigate a code #2, and I want to give you a glimpse what goes on behind the scenes. Not because I want to shock you, but because this is a crime that the public needs to be aware of. We can't just Purell our collective hands and pretend it doesn't happen. In fact, listen out your window right now. You might hear the characteristic "eeeeeeewwwwwww. ew. ew. EWW. Honey? omigodomigodomigod!" that victims of this crime invariably proclaim as it is being perpetrated upon them. These were probably this victim's final words -- before he stripped off every item of clothing and bolted into the shower.

The surveillance footage we obtained from nearby closed circuit cameras was quite lousy. Luckily, the Google Street Maps Van exists. It never misses a beat:

Judging from the placement of the stains, I would estimate the origin of the poo to be roughly 6 or 7 feet to the left of this crib. However, there is a noticeable break in the pattern, indicating some sort of obstacle interrupting the poo flow mid-flight.

The above picture indicates that the crib got hit with an unhindered poo stream, almost mocking the diaper pail directly beneath it.

Too little too late. With his arm covered in poo, the victim is seen here trying to stem the flow. More out of reflex than any real hope.

I had seen this pattern before. And I had a hunch who the suspect might be. But I had to model the poo spatter to really break down what happened that day:

The spatter pattern on the side of the crib was forceful and unhindered, spraying in a downward trajectory. This tells me the perpetrator was diaperless the moment she struck. The continuous unbroken stream also indicates that the victim was unaware of any problems when this happened, or else he would have reflexively stuck out a hand or arm in a futile effort to "catch" the poo. He was most likely looking the other direction to grab a new diaper.

This spot is about 3 feet further from the original impact point shown above. I'm hypothesizing that upon realizing that a poo stream had begun, the victim tried desperately to lift the baby's legs up to tuck one side of the new diaper under her. In doing so, he altered the angle and trajectory of the poo stream, thus sending it over the top of the rail and producing a perfect quadruple rainbow of poo.

Realizing the gravity of the new situation, as well as the baby's gastro-pneumatic potential, the victim then valiantly attempted to redirect as much of the poo stream to the new, albeit hastily laid out diaper underneath the baby. The poo stream hit his arm at full velocity, sending a good amount of poo into the diaper, and a small but strip-worthy amount onto his PJs.

This baby had power. This baby was capable of recharging and reloading. This baby utilized impeccable timing. I have seen this baby's handiwork before. Her name is Hannibal Lessi and she is on a mission to crush the Huggies Poo Free movement.

I don't know where she's headed next. All I can do is follow the trail and clean up after her. Good citizens, be vigilant. And carry plenty of wipes.

* * * * * *

What was this all about?

I'm one of the Huggies Wipes Ambassadors, aka Poo Free Parent Squad. To celebrate the fact that Huggies Wipes are the thickEST wipes (vs National Brands) they’ve dedicated an entire week to celebrate this essential superlative (at least when it comes to wiping poo). Throughout the past week, the entire Poo Free Parent Squad has shared posts that highlight the silliEST, funniEST, poopiEST, craziEST, cutEST aspects of parenthood and poop tales. Check out the rest of the ‘EST’ party on their Facebook and Twitter pages.

Originally, I was going to post a video of me doing impersonations of all the SpongeBob characters (trust me, I rock 80% of them), but then fate stepped in. My family was over at my friend Lolita's house for dinner tonight. We got to talking about her dog Gidget, who has a talent for escaping enclosed areas, like their yard. Lolita  mentioned the invisible electric dog fence that she just had installed. Then she showed me the collar.

If you know me at all, you can figure the rest out. Amy, I sincerely hope your mom pees her hospital gown once more.

But this past weekend, we achieved the epic. We colored outside the lines. We went rogue. We went to Michael's.

And bought paints. Paints that I hadn't seen in at least 25 years. Remember when you could go to any drugstore and buy model kit Camaros and F-15s? And you had to glue them together and paint them yourself with those cool little bottles of Tester's model paints? They still exist!!

Combine those with a healthy disrespect for merchandise licensing agreements, and you've got yourself a recipe for fun:

Step 1: find two Lego minifigures you're willing to sacrifice for the greater good. In other words, not the Star Wars ones! Give them a good base coat.

Step 2: let them dry overnight, then apply your outlines.

Step 3: use child labor to fill in those outlines.

Step 4: finish the job once child becomes bored.

Step 5: revel in your awesomeness.

The unofficial offical Venom and Iron Man minifiguresStep 6: Introduce your child to the wonders of stop motion animation.

"I have been entrusted with a responsibility," I thought. "Huggies has made me a Wipes Ambassador." Ambassadorism is in my blood. My father was an ambassador. OK, so he represented a country with a GDP of $383.3 billion, and I'm reppin' butt wipes, but still. There's got to be a spectrum that exists somewhere that we would both fall under.

Because dammit, I'm good at this.

Look at my track record. I tell everyone who will listen that Huggies wipes are the best wipes I have ever used. They are strong. They wipe. What more could you want from a ... wipe? Don't ever underestimate the power of "strong" when it comes to cleaning up in aisle number 2. Ever have toilet paper rip on you? I rest my case. Huggies wipes are also the best "first pass" wipe I've used. Poop wiping isn't like driving a zamboni. Going over the same spot twice doesn't make it smoother. It just "spreads the peanut butter," so to speak.

Technically my job here is done. As part of my ambassadorship, I was required to give you about 250 words of my honest opinion. But like I said. This ambassador stuff is in my blood. My dad never punched the clock at 5pm. He represented 24/7. He went above and beyond. And I owe you, and the butt wipe industry, a little more.

So, this campaign I'm involved in is basically a challenge for me to live "Poo Free" this summer. Huggies sent me a ton of wipes to help me achieve that. I determined pretty early on that this was futile. You cannot use wipes to curtail the "mudflap" upspray you get from a gaseous infant and loose diapers. That's what blowout preventors are for. In theory. You cannot use wipes to curb a baby's instinct to go free range fertilizer on you in that 5 second window between balling up the old diaper and sliding the new one underneath. In all fairness, living "Poo-mishap-reduced" was still a great improvement on my quality of life. And as every good ambassador should do, I began to think of other arenas in which these wipes might make a positive difference.

I had to start with the greatest need of all. Could I live "Lindsay Lohan free"?

My quality of life index just jumped 5 points.

What about "Animal Poo free"?

I may eat dogfood for your blog entertainment, but even I have a line.

Perhaps "Vegetable Free" because I hate them even though I'm a parent and should set a good example.

Mom will kill me when she sees this. But I have to say, success!

It's always important to find substitutes for TV, so I owed it to myself to look into living "Television Free"

That's supposed to be an origami crane. Ok, how about an origami cabbage? Asteroid?

Most of my day is spent at the office, so maybe if I could live "deliverables free" it would make life easier.

If only I had known it was this easy...

I'm trying to be a better eco-citizen. Perhaps if I tried to edge toward "Carbon Footprint free"...

Well, the car didn't start. But I think that saved a tree.

I couldn't make it to the Blogher conference this year. So while my blog friends were partying it up in NYC, I was home drinking coffee and writing this blog post. I needed to find a way to live "Not-going-to-blogher-tears free"

Stupid contacts.

Maybe Huggies will fly me to the United Nations someday.

Now I have two such moments. I have Airsoft guns to thank for this.

In other words, yes, Huggies paid me to make this video (along with 1 other upcoming video and 2 posts). But they had me at "poop." Because I can achieve fame through poop videos.

Along with beer money, Huggies gave me a ton of their Natural Care Baby Wipes and challenged me to live "Poo Free" this summer. As you'll see below, that's a tall order.

The edited-for-time video is on Huggies' Facebook page but I have the exclusive Director's Cut here:

Yes, I do all my own stunts.

After everyone was fed, we hit the lanes. Shoes were rented and a kid-sized ball acquired. While the grownups sat and talked, Jaden, Jack and Fury bowled. But with one ball between the three of them, the game dragged, as they had to wait for the ball to make its way back after every roll.

Sometime after the 3rd or 4th frame, two kid-sized balls magically rolled up into the ball bullpen of the lane next to us (I have no idea what that's called - you know, the place where the balls rest after they are shot back to you from the pin area??). Being that the lane was empty, I strolled over to grab the balls. But just as I picked them up, I noticed some hip young folks walking over to use the lane. As I scanned the group for little kids who might need the ball, I noticed her:

I usually don't care about celebrity sightings and all that, but Avril Lavigne is one of those pseudo crushes you never admit to, but your wife totally knows about because you linger too long on Proactiv commercials when you channel surf. I'm usually not at a loss for words either, except when I am forced into situations where I have one chance to talk to a celebrity crush or else go through life wondering "what if..."

Realizing the futility of saying something witty and memorable, I resigned to merely inquiring "uh, are you going to be needing these kids' balls?"

"Yes... I totally need those kids balls..." she replied, injecting an artful pause before letting me off the hook with a smile. "Just kidding, you can have them!"

I think I may have said "mmmrrgsnhfthanks" before running off with her balls.

I may have also tried to tell my wife how cool it was that Avril Lavigne talked to me, and she might have said "Jim, good for you. I don't really care..."

With three balls to use, the rest of the game went by quickly, and soon it was time to go. Lessi was tucked back into her stroller and... uh oh, there was one step to climb to leave the lane area!!

"It's one stair," MrLady remarked. "Just lift the stroller."

"No," Lolita pointed out. "He wants to take the ramp."

Sure, it was inconvenient to wheel my adorable, irresistible baby girl up the ramp right past a certain pop punk princess enjoying a night of bowling. But safety first!

As I skillfully maneuvered Lessi up the ramp, Avril caught a glimpse of her and squealed "Oh! she's the cutest baby ever!!"

"mmmrrgsnhfthanks!"

Grinning, I made my way back to the group, fiddling with the stroller handle that had just come loose.

"So what happened?" asked d Wife.

I quickly volunteered "omigod, I walked by her and she said Lessi's the cutest baby ever! and---"

"Not THAT! What's wrong with the handle!" d Wife shot back.

MrLady looked at d Wife, whose hands were full, looked back at me. And smacked me.

The average weight of a human male brain is 3 lbs. Average density? Like kevlar.

A father doesn't always know the best or the right way to do things himself. In fact, his form is downright embarrasing sometimes. But he's there to pick you up as you try to figure it out. Because you expect him to.

A father makes the difficult seem easy. He may be on the verge of falling on his ass, but he'll put on a facial expression that makes it look like a cool Westside Story stage slide. Because you inspire him to.

A father brushes the melting ice off your pants, makes sure the coast is clear, gives you a little push, and lets go. Because you need him to.

Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there who get the job done, grit their teeth and wait till the kids are asleep to apply the Ben Gay.

That's why when The Yummy Mummy Club asked me to guest post, I jumped on it. Nobody who reads that site knows who I am. It would give me a chance to write an old school BusyDad post. Sure, it took me like 2 weeks to write, but I loved every minute of it. I could almost smell the transients on the train as I typed away...

Anyway, check it out. This is a post about how the second kid always gets stuck with the jaded parents. If you can comment, that would be great. It's been up like 3 days with no response. I like going old school, but not THAT old school!

What to Expect When You're Expecting... Again

Necessary background fact 2: I'm not a sports dad, but I have this thing for focus and heart. As long as you try your ass off, even if you suck, I'm good. I've not been "good" at Fury's games.

Necessary background fact 3: As much as I want to fix #2, I don't want to push too hard and take the fun out of lacrosse for him.

Necessary background fact 4: Earlier this year, we took Fury to a collegiate lacrosse game to show him what it looks like when it all comes together. He ran into a kid who brought bubbles and spent the entire time chasing bubbles.

Onto the post...

On Saturday afternoon, Fury and I came across the NCAA lacrosse semi-finals while channel surfing. Knowing that he would never sit through an entire game, I offered this up:

"Fury, I know you want to watch other stuff, but I want you just to watch 10 minutes of this, so you can see real lacrosse in action."

whine, whine, whiney, oh maaaan!! this is boring!! whine whine etc etc...

"Fury, it's just 10 minutes. I'm making you watch just TEN minutes."

whine, whine, whiney, I don't care about watching unless I'm in it... whine whine etc etc...

"Fury. 10 minutes. And stop whining. If you say one more word, I promise you will hate your life. You will say nothing, starting in 3, 2, 1..."

"But Daaad I..."

"Enjoy the game, Fury. The entire game. And the next one too."

Yes, I realized that this move would kill background fact #3, and Fury would forever hate lacrosse. But I was over it. Hell, I've never even played lacrosse. I have no ties to the sport. And I was more than ok throwing it under the bus to show him that I mean business when I say stop whining.

In the past, our punishments have always involved taking something away from Fury. Problem is, the kid is a master at finding ways to entertain himself. No computer? I'll play Legos. No TV? I'll draw. No Toys? I'll read. But this time? He was suffering. There he sat. No toys, no Nintendo DS, no books, and 3 hours of NCAA lacrosse action to look forward to.

He was miserable. He was writhing in agony. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feeling a little smug.

Fury was lucky that the first game we watched was down to the last 5 minutes. That meant only a 30 minute pre-game show for Duke vs Virginia, followed by the game itself.

With tears of frustration, a broken spirit and what seemed like 3 lifetimes, we eventually made it to the second half of the game. A minute into the 3rd quarter, Virginia was leading Duke 8-5.

But then something happened.

Duke scored. Then scored again. And again. And again. And Fury sat up.

Then Duke scored once again. And Fury cheered.

Then Duke scored two more times. And Fury left the room.

When I caught up to him, Fury was in our bedroom, talking to mom. "... and then they tied it, and then they kept on scoring! Like 7 goals in a row!"

Then he ran back to the living room. "Dad, can I have some almonds?" I grabbed a bag of smoked almonds for him and cracked open a beer for me.

And then began the nail biting. After Duke's 7 unanswered goals earned them a comfortable 12-8 lead, Virginia struck back with a rally of their own, scoring 3 in a row to cut Duke's lead down to 1. At this point Fury was yelling "noooo!!"

"So, Fury, you like Duke, eh?"

"Yeah! I like their team name better!"

Good enough for me. Also, neither of us were sitting at that point.

With 1:21 left in the game, it was tied 12-12.

And it stayed that way until Duke sealed Virginia's fate with a goal at the 12 second mark. With cheers and fists pumping, Fury finished out the last 10 seconds of his punishment.

"Ok, Fury, you're done!"

"Dad, that was the best punishment I ever had! And I need you to record my next punishment."

I had no idea what that meant. "Huh?"

"The championship game on Monday. I want you to record it for me."

As I set the DVR I realized, you don't always have to succeed to win.

Tale of the Tape

Name: Alessia James Lin
DOB: May 20, 2010
Height: 20 in.
Weight: 7lb 6oz.
Reach: All the way through your heart
Fighting out of: A womb
Keys to Victory: Wrapping daddy around her little finger, screaming like a banshee
Fighting Style: All Ninja, with a brown belt in the Force

Time to change my header graphic...

Also, d Wife was the true champion. All I had to do was sit and I almost passed out. Mothers are a different breed of human being.