A Rookie Mistake

So, I screwed up.

I made a very rookie parenting mistake. It’s the rookiest of all rookie parenting mistakes.

I make the kids lunches every morning. It’s my minimal contribution to the day. So, yesterday morning I go in the kitchen to begin this thankless process of packing a delicious, healthy meal which my kids will only eat half of.

I throw four pieces of bread down, grab the mayo, mustard, turkey, lettuce and cheese and immediately notice the counter is full. No room for me to work my sandwich magic.

What’s taking up so much room? A big package of Halloween Oreos. So, I pick it up and it’s surprisingly light. A bit astonished at this since we just bought the package yesterday, I open it to see how many are left.

One. One cookie is left.

All I want to do is throw this damn package away since it’s taking up crucial counter space needed for me to get my sandwich makin’ business on.

I grab a plastic bag, throw the cookie in it and toss it into one of the kids’ lunch pouches. Then, I throw the empty package away.

BOOM! Problem solved.

I finish making their delicious lunches, throw their lunch pouches in their book bags…my work here is done.

Fast forward to 8 hours later. I’m cranking away at work when I get a text from the wife who’s picking up the little bastards at school. And that’s when the rookie mistake slams me in the balls…..

Immediately I feel like the biggest asshole ever. My little girl is sitting in the back of a car, crying because her daddy that she loves so much decided to deny her a round, crumbly, chocolate Halloween treat in her lunch. In her brain I might as well have reached my hand into her chest and ripped her heart in two.

Not only that, my hands are now tainted with favoritism and she has proof which no doubt will be rubbed in my face for the rest of my life. The infamous "Halloween Oreo cookie my daddy loves my brother more than me" incident.

I can see myself sitting across from my strung-out daughter and a therapist during the taping of an Intervention TV episode 10 years from now learning that she uses crack to fill the void left by the uneven treatment in distributing Halloween Oreos within the family.

I couldn’t have that. I will not turn my daughter into crack addict!!

So, I did this:

I'm A Hypocrite Father

“I love you Grayson.”

That’s what a little piece of yellow paper had written on it that the boy found under a book on his desk. My 9-year-old third grader had a little lady falling for his redheaded ass.

A part of me wanted to high five him, do a chest bump and let him take a swig of my beer. But the father of a daughter in me took over and immediately I began to fume.

My hypocrisy regarding my views of youth and relationships was already beginning to creep its way into real situations sooner than I’d anticipated.

Since the day we saw the sonar of our precious little wienerless fetus on the screen during the pregnancy, I knew the day would eventually come when I was standing with a shotgun in front of the daughter’s bedroom door while tossing a pack of condoms to the boy.

Since the day the wife spat our little daughter into the world I’ve been randomly polling the women in my life regarding how their father’s dealt with them as teenagers.

The responses:

“My dad wouldn’t let me date till I was 18.”

“My boyfriend snuck into my bedroom constantly at night.”

“I had my first baby when I was 17.”

I stopped asking after that last response.

Next, I quickly decided I should make a list. That’s what the old school 80s After School Specials always recommended… “when you’re in a pinch on a tough decision, turn on some Poison and make a list!” So I did.

How I Will Treat Relationships the Boy & Girl Have As Teenagers

Boy: Lend him my quality porn collection so he can learn how to handle himself in the sack.

Girl: Show her medical videos of people with horrific cases of gonorrhea and syphilis.

Boy: Provide him with condoms so he always has protection.

Girl: Sleep on the floor next to her bed with a shotgun so that she’s always protected.

Boy: Make sure I don’t cockblock him when he has a girl over to watch a movie.

Girl: Sit on the couch next to the daughter’s male friend and drink a bottle of whiskey while cleaning my chainsaw and staring at him as they watch a movie.

Boy: Explain to him he should be free, enjoy his youth and not lock himself down with a girl for years.

Girl: Drill into her head that you don’t really understand love and relationships till you’re 29 so she should just wait till then to kiss a boy or anything else ookie like that.

It was at this point the wife ripped the sheet out of my hands, balled it up, slapped me and said “get a grip you gap-toothed idiot. We’re going to treat them the same, give them both the exact same tools and opportunities. We’re going let them screw up and learn from it. We’re going to support them through the whole thing and arm them as best we can to make good choices. We can’t guard their every move.”

And she’s right. It’s the only thing to do. I don’t ever want to look back and know that I was too overbearing and sheltered them from becoming who they truly are. I want them to make mistakes, have their hearts broken and learn all the amazing and sometimes painful facets of love.

I touched the wife’s shoulder, smiled a “you’re right” smile at her, then stopped by the girl’s bedroom to make sure all the hidden cameras had fully charged batteries in them.

How Santa Will Make My Son An Episode Of Intervention

It’s the holidays!

And you know how I know?

Because everyone’s becoming just a bit more of an asshole than they normally are. Even the kids! Hell, the dog has even gotten into the holiday spirit by gnawing on the strap of my man-purse I carry to work every day.

He’s never done that before!

Ahhh the holidays. When people pepper-spray you for buying video games at half-price at a Wal-Mart instead of doing what you should normally do at Wal-Mart….bring your best camera and search for great pictures to upload to www.peopleofwalmart.com.

I found a catalogue over Thanksgiving weekend the daughter had taken a liking to. Upon opening it I thought, “oh cool, she’s circled a few things in……oh…oh she’s circled everything in here.”

The son is still an incredibly devoted believer in Santa. Which sucks for two reasons…

1) It’s gonna break his heart and be rough as hell on him the day he finds out that fat bastard is really his MILF mom tossing extra un-wrapped gifts under the tree late at night while his drunk dad stands naked next to her whispering loudly, “just look at it…I’m making it look like helicopter blades!!”

I can’t help but see an episode of Intervention 20 years from now when my son’s all cracked-out, crying on national TV saying his addiction started when he learned Santa wasn’t real.

2) He thinks he can get whatever in the hell he wants. All “I gotta do is ask Santa!”

It’s like a huge middle finger being jammed in our faces when the boy asks for an iPhone, we rightfully say no, and he responds with that. It makes me want to out Santa right then and there.

But then we wouldn’t get away with my favorite phrase which keeps him in line, “really? You’re gonna give your sister a swirly in that toilet while Santa’s watching? Wow man…you’ve got balls of steel.”

Then there comes the wife. I procrastinate. I’ll occasionally look at commercials showing other rock-star husbands blowing the socks off their wife with cars, jewelry, vacuum cleaners and more. I can’t afford a new car, the wife sells all the jewelry I buy her and I might as well cut my own throat before buying her a vacuum cleaner.

So I wait. And wait.

And wait.

Until a couple days before Christmas and decide to fight the crowds. Bitching the whole time about finding no place to park, the long lines waiting to check out and the check-out ladies being rude because I had the gall to actually purchase something from them today.

I bitch about not being thanked as I hold the door for some jack-wad whose arms were full and mumble angrily to myself as I get stuck in endless shopping traffic.

And it’s at that last stoplight that I realize….the holidays and I need each other. Like my future cracked-out son needs his drugs, I need the holidays to be angry about something. I thrive off the rush of anger that I got on December 22 and 23 when I’m last-second-shopping for my wife. It makes me feel alive. It makes me…

LOVE THE HOLIDAYS!!!

Growing Up

There comes a time in a father’s life where he has to face the truth.

His daughter will grow up.

My precious moody, smiling, devil-attitude, angle-like daughter will one day become a woman.

And yesterday I was introduced to that very fact like a slap to the face.

My wife took the boy to have his haircut. His first since he shaved his head bald last fall to raise money for cancer research.

During this little jaunt she also decided to take my daughter’s hair from three inches below her shoulders to less than a “bob” haircut.

Walking into the house our proud daughter flashed her attitude and owned the room.

Meanwhile the wife saw a light bulb go off and said, “Holy shit! I just remembered I have a picture of me at that age with the same haircut!”

And off she went to find it.

And when she returned we handed it to my daughter and the similarities of beauty, personality, confidence, and child innocence were caught on film.

  

Bacon

So, yesterday I got to have a daddy/daughter day.

To kick it off I did what any self-respecting father would do.

I made bacon.

And we ate it…and life was good.

It then got me thinking. Bacon really is such a unique, diverse, and satisfying food.

It can be served with just about any other edible combination – peanut butter, strawberries, honey, and…well…..bacon.

Then it got me thinking even further about how bacon could change...well, the world!

1) Served before every business meeting:

Manager: “Before Bob begins his report, would anyone like some bacon?”

2) Excellent in hostage situations:

Hostage Negotiator: “That’s right, just let 10 more hostages go and we’ll deliver four crispy and warm slices of bacon.”

3) Premature ejaculation?

Husband “I’m sorry honey that never happens to me. Come on...don’t be mad. Hey, guess what? Who has two thumbs and a plate of bacon for his special girl? This guy!!!”

4)      Making oral sex much more appealing to the wife:

Frank: “Hey hun, I ummm…I was thinking maybe tonight I could ummm…you know…like, get a little oral or something?

Wife: “Jesus Frank!!! Is that all you think about, huh? My mouth going down on you? Damn it!!”

Frank: “I wrapped it in bacon!”

Wife: “Let’s do this!!!”

5) Wrapping paper for shitty presents: (overheard at the wedding)

Guy #1 “Hey? Who’s the jagoff that re-gifted the picture of his grandmother holding a poodle with ‘You’re My Favorite Grandson’ shaved in its fur framed in a Kenny G.-singing frame?”

Guy #2 “Who gives a fuck? It’s wrapped in bacon dude! I’m stealin’ it!”

6) Tricking the kids into taking vitamins.

Mother: “Oh look Timmy! Someone left a bacon ball sitting on the counter. Guess I’ll have to eat it.”

Timmy: (Grabbing for his shank attached to his ankle) “Back the fuck off…I’ll cut you ma… Don’t touch my bacon ball. That’s right…walk away…don’t even look at it…keep walking…”

7) To keep from having to talk to the Mother-In-Law:

Step 1: Cook 23.4 lbs of bacon in flat strips.

Step 2: Spent 89 drunkin’ hours sewing said 23.4 lbs of bacon into a size 38 coat.

Step 3: When mother-in-law arrives and starts digging into every inch of your life invite her to go for a walk. Before leaving, slip on the coveted bacon jacket. As you walk down the street, Nature will slowly begin to attack you with louder and more viciousness by the second forcing you to retreat back to the house and retire for the night in your bedroom in a fit of trauma next to the stocked cooler you’ve managed to previously hide under the bed.

I strongly support everyone trying all of these and more. In fact, you should comment and let me know how bacon has forever changed your life!