The Boy Shaves His Head To Raise Money For Cancer Research

This past Saturday, my boy walked up to an empty chair surrounded by gawkers and one giddy hairdresser donning nothing but a pair of sheers, and sat down.

Three minutes later he sat bald, surrounded by his beautiful red hair mixed with a sea of brown, blonde, and black hair.

My son raised $1,350 for St. Baldrick’s Foundation – one of the leading children’s cancer research organizations in the world.

His fundraising promise?

That he would sit amongst thousands of other kids and adults around the country on Saturday and have his head shaved to pay respect for the millions who currently struggle, who have lost, and who have won the battle against cancer.

His involvement in this was all his idea and of course we were overwhelmingly supportive.

Thank you to all who donated money.

Some were family, some were friends, some were people on Twitter I’ve never met and only know by the “@” in front of their names.

But we’re all unfortunately bonded by the global battle that is fighting cancer.

And we thank you.

And now…the pics and photos!!!

So, here we have a brave little stud-muffin just one hour before he was to get scalped. When I took this photo eight teenage girls with hair well past their shoulders were getting completely shaved.

And now…the video of the boy going under the sheers…

Grayson's Head Shave for St. Baldrick's To Support Children's Cancer Research from WhyIsDaddyCrying on Vimeo.

Thanks again to everyone!

Babies Come Out Of Girl's Butts

Last night the wife and I are calmly listening to Cold War Kids and getting pumped to go see them Friday night when all of a sudden our six-year-old, long-haired, hippie daughter comes tearing-ass through the room screaming “babies come out of girl’s butts!! Babies come out of girl’s butts!!” and giggling while holding her bum bum like she’s got a full diaper.

The show Cake Boss is a favorite in this household. And, apparently the “Cake Boss’s” wife just birthed their fourth child.

And, they showed the PG version of this woman spitting out a baby while my wife and I were being neglectful parents in the other room.

It wasn’t until the town-crier move the daughter pulled by running through the house announcing the apparent mass production of ass-babies that we realized we’d allowed something bad to happen.

While I was acting like I smelled smoke in the basement, the wife quickly screamed “OK, bedtime, let’s brush teeth!”

And it was over.

Thirty minutes later when the house was silent and our shoulders slowly started relax and drop from the afternoon parental pressures, the wife and I locked eyes.

It was for only a few seconds…mainly because the wife knows if she looks at me for more than five seconds I’ll start ripping my clothes off and drooling.

But this look was different.

It was the look of knowing the time to have “The Talk” was becoming closer and closer each year.

Just over a month ago, the we had creatively avoided questions from the little bastards about “how the seed gets in mommy’s belly?” Here’s more detail on that one.

The daughter’s six and the boy is eight.

We hear the sex-talk clock ticking loudly in the other room.

The only thing preventing us from talking to the boy in the next year or two is the fact that we know he can’t keep his damn mouth shut.

He’ll completely botch the translation of how babies are made and have half our city’s parents knocking on our doors with baseball bats and other creatively deadly blunt objects wanting to know “why my son thinks jack-o-lanterns shoot from his pecker?”

The wife and I will eventually have “The Talk,” mainly because we’d rather be the ones opening that dialogue with our children than the schools.

And by “we” I really mean my mother-in-law.

The wife and I have full intentions of waiting until my mother-in-law visits, tell the kids “grandma wants to talk to you about sex and how babies are made,” and then running like hell to the nearest bar for the next 24 hours.

If you’re reading this my sweet, awesome mother-in-law…I was kidding.

I love you and would never do anything like that to you.

See you in a couple weeks! 

The Journey To A Warm Sunny Morning

Last night was just hard parenting night.

The boy was studying for his science test, which to us seemed like he was studying for his MCATs.

The daughter? She was spouting sentences beginning with “Can I have…”faster than Lindsay Lohan’s right hand in a jewelry store.

The wife? She was looking at me with a tear in one eye.

Me?

I tried to find my happy place.

And once I’m there, I just know that one day…

I’ll slide into my favorite chair on the back porch, in the sun, placed in just the right spot where I perch my feet perfectly enough to rest my head back just enough to feel the warmth of the morning sun.

The smell of coffee and the amazing sounds of South San Gabriel engulf me.

It’s the year 2022, my youngest left for college a week earlier.

The dining room is filled with family picture books, empty bottles of wine, wet floor-boards from last night’s tears, and the wife is still sleeping upstairs comfortably.

When I open my eyes I see the boy walking towards me with his bike, sporting his grey helmet saying, “come on dad!! Let’s go for a ride!”

His innocence and love to share life with good people immediately warms me.

And when I close them I see my daughter in her pretty fancy red dress running up to me, turning around and saying “zip me up daddy!”

Her raw emotion, passion and love makes me want to just hold her.

I’ll reach down, grab my cell and send them both just simple text knowing damn well they’ll see it hours later when they finally creep out of their college, stank-filled beds. They’ll probably shrug it off, maybe take a second to respond, possibly post it on a future “I wish my parents didn’t have a damn cell phone” blog site.

But the hope is that when they see my text: “I love you. Rock life and make yourself proud. We already are.” – they remember…

The tall goofy bastard who tickled them early in the morning until they peed themselves.

The stories I made-up late at night based on any three things they wanted.

The fact their mother and I were there…for everything…proudly.

And I’ll miss them.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll be glad they’ve moved on and badly wishing they took the damn dog with them.

But I’ll miss them.

Everything leading up to that warm sunny morning…is the shaping of lives and the creation of memories.

I Guest Blog While Wearing A Peach-Head

A fellow blogger and friend “Being Peachy” is apparently AWOL. We’re not quite sure where she is or when she’ll be back. So, the lovely and talented animation queen JC Little of Little Animation and her blog The Animated Woman, convinced me to get dressed up as peaches and guest post for her.

So, go on….check out JC and me as we don our peach-heads and try to figure out where-in-the-hell the Peach is. Click here to see the guest post!

I Got Tattooed....Again, Again....

Yesterday I got my half-sleeve tattoo worked on again.

This piece has been worked on for many months now. I was hoping we’d get it finished yesterday, but unfortunately my skin could only take a couple of hours worth of tattooing before I just bled like a stuck pig.

So, I’ve got one more session and then…it should be complete.

The artist behind the needle is Dawn Grace at the Tattoo Factory in Uptown Chicago.

Here’s the original outline she did and the meaning behind the tattoo.

The colors on the flowers are definitely not done…she’s still got some work to do on them, but here’s how the piece looks today.