My Homage To Stay-At-Home Moms

I’ve said it before, but not quite so bluntly.

Stay at home moms watching children full-time should win Emmy’s, free groceries and not have to pay taxes.

I have every Monday off from work.

Yesterday was the little nippers’ last day of school. They went in for one hour, then came home by 10 a.m. just as the wifey was hopping in the car to head for work.

I swear I heard uncontrollable laughter as she drove off leaving me with a yipping dog, a daughter screaming “I want cereal PLEASE daddy!!!,” and a boy behind me saying “can I have a play date? Daddy? Play date? Can I have one, Please!!!” just as the doorbell was ringing with the neighborhood kid standing next to it.

An hour later I had two kids in the basement playing, my son was riding his bike down the street screaming “I’ll be back dad,” just as my phone rang and the dog hit his “I need to go outside” bell.

It wasn’t even 11 a.m. and I was looking around the kitchen for a bottle with a lose top.

11:30 a.m. and I’m out front sweating my ass off watching my daughter fly down the sidewalk on her bike, barely missing hitting the two-year-old neighbor kid, just as another neighbor-kid climbs a tree in our yard 6 feet above concrete. Another neighbor kid opens the door to my house to go “wee wee” leaving it open long enough for my dog to fly out and run for his life down the street.

As I’m running down the street my son yells, “DAD!!! I’M GOING OVER TO #%@&^ HOUSE! I’LL BE BACK LATER!! Only problem was I had no clue in hell who this kid was or where he lived.

About 20 minutes later the boy’s pissed at me, the girl is changing into her 3^rd outfit for the day and I’m in the kitchen making lunch for four kids, each with their own dietary requests.

One minute later and I’m pondering how in the hell I can make it to the local liquor store without having child services called on me.

The chaos continued. But, thankfully I have the support from a neighborhood stay-at-home mom who calmly came over and took control from my rookie ass.

And I was in awe….

I immediately fell to her feet, skinning my knees, but not caring a single bit because I knew I had just met a true “stay-at-home mom.”

With the wave of her hand children were coloring on the sidewalk. Songs were being sung by many. Smiles were on faces that just seconds ago were covered by tears. And I believe I heard a “thank you mamma” trickle off into the air leaving me humbled, numb, and thankful.

I crawled to her feet like a man left for death in the blistering heat of the hot desert sun finding a spring of water. Clasping her ankles I looked up and said, “teach……me….for….I…..fear…them…..and….they…smell…..my…blood!!!”

She simply reached down, patted my head, laughed, and walked back to her house. As she grew smaller as she walked further away I noticed the children slowly focusing their gaze on me, one-by-one.

It wasn’t until the door slowly closed behind the coveted stay-at-home mom that the death children dropped their tasks and began bringing the rapture back to me.

Dear Stay-At-Home Moms:

We love you. Adore you. And you are irreplaceable.

Love,

Me

To My Wife On Our Anniversary

On this day, 13 years ago, I married my best friend.

We started out as high school sweethearts.

Then we went to separate colleges only to see each other about once a month or so.

Despite the fact I did everything in my power to look like a complete and total douchebag...

Example A "The Chops"

...we remained together, eventually moving in with each other after graduating college.

On April 18, 1998 I married the woman of my dreams.

Since then I’ve enjoyed the hell out of making two beautiful children which my gorgeous wife unfortunately had to spit out of her amazing body on two painful occasions.

Dear Kim:

I still get all tingly and stuff thinking of the first time I saw you as you cruised across the classroom in your tight white jeans.

I still get all tingly when I wake up before you, open my eyes, and see you in the early morning sunlight.

You’re so beautiful.

I’d kill to have even half the confidence you have.

I’d kill to do this all over again once it’s all said and done….with just a few tweaks and changes….

I can’t pass your pillow without burying my face in it.

I’ve lost count of the times I’ve smelled your bathrobe.

Your laugh is infectious.

Your smile is gorgeous.

And your style as a mother is absolutely award-winning.

You rock the hell out of non-kid time

And when it’s complicated you’re sympathetically smart.

So, in short….I love you.

I love your smile.

I love your eyes.

I love your voice.

Holy hell do I love your smell.

I love watching you as a mother.

I love that I’ve been able to watch you grow into an amazing woman.

I love you Kim.

I couldn’t imagine my life without you as my best friend.

Love,

Justin



Mommy, Where Do Babies Come From?

The other day the fam and I were driving along when the boy dropped the bomb of all bombs.

No, not the bomb he dropped yesterday when he said: “Macy, do you smell something?”

Macy: “No, why?”

Grayson: “Cause I just farted and it’s horrible.”

No, not that bomb, although, that little interaction does illustrate the truth that girls are soooo much smarter than little dudes.

Here’s what I mean.

So, we’re driving along and it’s quiet, which means either there’s some pontification going on, or all holy hell is about to break loose.

This is when pontification reared its ugly head.

Grayson: “Mommy, are you going to have another baby?”

The Wife: “No honey, it’s not possible. I mean, your daddy and I feel that our family is complete with just Macy and you.”

Grayson: “No, I mean, just say you wanted another baby, you would have to re-marry someone, right?”

At that point the wife looks at me and I immediately go into “Look As Though Traffic Is Horrible And You’re Trying To Plow Your Way Through So You Don’t Have To Engage In Conversations With Your Children About Where Babies Come From” look.

Macy: “Grayson!!! Baby’s come from a seed in the mommy’s belly, silly!!”

Grayson: “Macy!! Shhhh. Seriously mommy, if you wanted another baby you’d re-marry someone, right?”

The Wife: “No honey, I would have another baby with your father, but we have decided that we don’t want to expand the family any further. We love Macy and you and our family is perfect!”

Macy: “Grayson, you’re so silly!!! Babies come from seeds in the mommy’s belly. They grow from there.”

Grayson: “Well how do the seeds get there?”

Macy: “I don’t know.”

Grayson: “Mommy?”

The Wife: “Have you been working on your spelling words today Grayson? Cause you have a review test on Friday!”

Grayson: “How does the seed for babies get into the mommy’s belly?”

At this point I’m pulling close to the guy driving in the next lane, motioning for him to roll down his window in the hopes I can sell him on letting me climb into his car for safety.

The Wife: “We’re not going to have anymore brothers or sisters for you kids to let’s rock-out to some Barenaked Ladies!!! Turn it up Dad!!”

Me: “Sounds good!!”

As I turn up the radio…..

Grayson: “I know what you’re doing. At some point I still want to know how the seed gets in the mommy’s belly! I won’t forget that question!”

We have no idea how the girl knew babies come from a “seed.” I’m just glad she doesn’t know how the seed gets there, otherwise I’d have to put on my biker outfit and go stomp some ass somewhere.

But regardless, I’m ready for the boy to bring it back-up so I can tell him where babies come from.

“Son, babies happen when the mommy slips and falls on the ground and the daddy goes to help her up, then slips and falls on top of her. When they get back up the mommy has a seed in her belly and 9 months later a baby is born.

“Now who wants ice cream?!!!”

The Panicked Cry Of Our Children

“Daddy!!!!!?!!!?!”

“Mommy!!!!?!!!?!”

At least five, six, eighteen times a day we hear this.

It’s the panicked call from our children freaked out over the fact they currently cannot hear or see us.

So, naturally in their minds, the wife and I have grabbed the car keys, robbed a bank of a few C-notes and headed to the bar to suck-back a few ice-cold-coke-colas whilst leaving our beloved-children to wallow in an empty house.

Meanwhile, in reality, we’re no less than 30 feet away cooking their dinner, washing their clothes, or cleaning up their mess.

Just last night I walked upstairs to pee and noticed the hallway light, both their room lights, and our room light was on.

It was enticing enough to walk outside and give a wave to the Space Station to at least give me comfort enough that the $500 electric bill coming up was spent in becoming an astronaut’s BFF.

We have no idea what created this panic in our children to make them freak the hell out if they don’t hear us creak the wood floors every four minutes. But it’s out of control.

Again, last night I stood in the hallway and proclaimed, “children of my seed listen to my words!!! I shall never leave you alone in the house. The Wife and I shall never depart you un-attended, fending on your own and proclaiming you fit to handle the world.”

Ten minutes later as I was busy explaining to my wife that the “Man vs. Wild” dude was a total fucking wuss, the kids screamed, “Mommy!!!!!?!!!! Daddy???!!!!!!!” while a cricket landed two feet from me and caused me to jump on a table top and throw pillows.

The solution? I have no clue. Maybe do what my mom did back in the early 80s when she accidentally left my brother in a shopping cart at the grocery? Some sort of shock therapy like that?

Now that I think of it, that won’t work. To this date whenever my brother sees or touches a shopping card he pees himself and screams for his mommy.

No, we’ll just continue to hope they outgrow it and in the meantime chalk it up to another insanity I can hold over their heads until they’re parents.

Then, I’ll just laugh and say, “I’ll take some more wine please!”

WARNING: You Are Experiencing Children

Most mornings I watch the Today Show in the a.m. Not sure why, but I do.

The other day I’m metro-sexually ironing my clothes, watching the Today Show while thinking to myself, “damn they have a ton of drug commercials on here.”

Naturally…this led me to wonder, “wouldn’t it have been great if my little bastards were born with a warning label like those seen on drug commercials?

All parents would have to agree– hell yes it would. Here’s how my kids’ labels would have read…

(Background image – perfect family, wearing J. Crew clothes, beautiful kids running around an immaculate yard, very clean dog leaping around playfully with the children who are getting along gleefully as the parents enjoy wine in peace, while wearing stylish clothes, and sporting huge smiles because they know they’ll have intense, uninterrupted sex later that night)

Meanwhile, the following is being read by some out-of-work, douchebag ex-dj announcer guy:

“Children are not for everyone. Children may cause you to want to harm mass groups of people for no apparent reason. While pregnant with children you may notice a very drastic impact to your sexual relationship causing you to spend more time than normal naked, in a corner, crying and rocking back-and-forth.

While “making” children you will enjoy yourself. This will be the last “enjoyment” of your life.

If living with children you experience excessive drinking, yelling, kicking of inanimate objects, mumbling to one’s self, hatred of Caillou, hallucinations of Barney taking shots with Big Bird, or the increased love of silence, please consult a doctor.

Those experiencing children should stay away from those without children as it will help increase their unrealistic belief children are great.

Children may cause you to lose excessive amounts of sleep, eat while standing, repeat yourself excessively, and create intricate lies as to why you “must go to the store alone, RIGHT NOW!”

Children are evil.

You will eventually label your children as “cock-blocks.”

While living with children you may puke, experience diarrhea, always have a runny nose, buy stock in hand sanitizer, contemplate muzzles, experiment with shock-collars, and find yourself repetitively walking into walls.

If you find boogers, dried food, spilt milk, un-flushed toilets, skid-marks on underwear, and sheets being used as Kleenex in your house then you are currently experiencing children.

Children can kill you.

(End with the kids quietly building a fort out of rubber blocks while the parents continue to kiss, hug, sip their wine and retire to the bedroom knowing Susie and Mark are safe to play on their own.)