My Chest is All Swollen

Swollen from my first experience as a proud dad after watching my son win something. Not like a soccer game, or a video game…but a bike race.

For the past couple weeks the boy’s been coming home blabbing about some bike race at the zoo nearby. My floppy ears perked up a bit, given that we’ve put some serious miles on his bike this summer. I was all: “that’s cool, dude. We should do it and see how you do!”

It was somewhat on my radar, but nowhere near like it was on his.

Come Sunday, he woke up pretty early. He climbed in bed and said, “daddy, I couldn’t stop dreaming about the bike race and buying a cap gun.” Oh…I forgot to mention, I promised him I’d buy him a cap gun the day before, because he broke a catapult gun a friend had given him that day.

I’m getting sidetracked here, but bare with me… I fucking hate Wal-Mart. I don’t mean hate like I don’t like it. I mean hate like I want some science experiment to go completely wrong so that a huge giraffe is born and goes on a tirade obsessing over eating Wal-Marts across the country and when he’s done he takes a big steamy poop on the empty shell of a building encircling it with signs that read… “I shit on you Wal-Mart. I shit, and spit on you Wal-Mart” (read in a bad French accent). I hate it like that. But…we went anyway because I was confident it was the redneckiest store around that I was confident would have cap guns.

Later that day it was time for the race. My little guy has on his kaki shorts, a red polo shirt, and green checkerboard slip-on Vans. I was all: “Umm..you sure you wanna wear that for the bike race?”

And he was all: “yeah….why? Should I tuck my shirt in?”

We get to the zoo and we’re waiting in line….a long line. He’s not saying a word, he’s just looking around. I finally said, “are you OK dude?”

And he said, “daddy, I’m nervous.”

“It’s cool if you wanna bail and just watch the race.”

“No way…I’m gonna win this thing!!!” he yelled.

The race track was about 1/3 of a mile around a huge fountain and they raced in groups – preschoolers, 1^st and 2^nd graders, etc… So he was all jacked up ready to bike in the 1^st and 2^nd graders boy division. Then - they called all the 1^st and 2^nd grader boys and girls to the line. That’s when we got a look at which kids were going to race against him. We both knew…he was gonna get his ass drug.

The girls did their race, then it was time for the boys. I said, “Gray…just have fun man. This is so cool – enjoy it! My best advice, stay close to the inside of the loop, look straight ahead, and just go.”

“These are some big boys daddy. I don’t think I can beat them.”

I slapped him on top of the helmet and said, “just ride hard and have fun, man.”

So 20+ 1^st and 2^nd graders line up and he’s looking kinda little. The gun went off and my dude stood up on his pedals and never looked back.

(Son is third from the right in the red Polo shirt)

(From the start he takes the lead)

From the beginning he led and never gave it up. I was going ballistic screaming like a little bitch and was probably being videoed and will soon be on Digg.com as the over-energetic asshole dad who’s kid didn’t get picked last at dodgeball…..but I didn’t care. I ran up to him, with his sister dragging behind, and said – “You won man!!!”

And he said, “I did?”

“Ahh yeah…there was no one in front of you the whole race!!!”

He was sooo freakin’ happy and I thought my chest would explode.

(My little dude crossing the finish line)

That was an amazing experience. I knew he was a strong biker and focused on the event. But I have to say I had doubt. I thought those kids were going to make a meal out of him. On his own…he just went balls to the wall and won.

As a kid I played soccer and I remember getting screamed at many a car ride home by my father because I wasn’t giving it my all. Because I wasn’t paying attention constantly and trying to become a pro athlete at it. Eventually he’d say he wasn’t going to waste his time watching me if I wasn’t going to try…and he came to fewer games.

My little shit did me proud. I feel bad I doubted him, but I just didn’t want to be pushing him too hard. And I’m glad I didn’t because for him and me, it just made his win that much sweeter.

  

 

Super Dad!!....Redux

Today begins round two of being a stay at home dad. The wifey took off to N.C. to be with her family and help them put her cousin to rest. Until Tuesday night, it’ll be me, the two precious bastards, a cat, two fish, and the house.

Last week when I went through this we had a pretty good time. This week…I’m gonna blow the roof of this joint. I plan on planting serious fucking memories in these kids heads—even if it kills me. I mean, the way I look at it, that’s the only real selfish benefit I get out of it.

“What do you mean you gap-toothed, big-eared freak?” you might be asking yourself.

Well, in most circumstances I’d be banking the living hell out of the days I’ve spent as a single dad. I’d be keeping a pretty little row of binge drinking cards, sex cards, oh hell no you’re cooking tonight cards, and why don’t you wipe her ass this time cards. But wifey’s dealing with a death in the family, which just shits all over my capability to get any benefit from being Mr. Mom.

I can’t whip-out my kick-ass cards to ask her to spend the week rubbing my feet, clipping my fingernails, shaving my back, taking care of the kids, feeding me dinner, and watching football. I can’t make plans to hit the Irish pub with the dudes. And I certainly can’t plop down next to her on the couch wearing my crotchless SpongeBob thong and leather mask holding a picture of PeeWee Herman and say “let’s do this.”

So instead, I’m gonna funnel all that energy towards the two midgets in the house. We’re gonna hit a birthday party, ride some bikes, maybe put a dent in Kiddieland, eat lots of ice cream, play kickball, roast marshmallows in the fire pit, and maybe even chase the cat around the house and shave our names in him.

And when the wife comes home I’ll help her move past this tragedy in her life and then over time we’ll all fall back into our routine. Oh sure, I’ll have the urge to ask her to shave my toes…. and even to wear the SpongeBob thong (I may wear them under my pants..just in case.), but I won’t.

Instead, hopefully she’ll look through all the shitty photos I take of the kids and feel relaxed that even though she married a sex-crazed douche – I can still support her in a time of need.  

My Daughter Has Maggots

Well, actually they’re weevils. Acorn weevils to be exact. But we didn’t know those fuckers were weevils, we thought they were maggots. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I’d just finished my tour of duty as single dad for 4 days and with chest fully inflated was about to head off to earn another paycheck. The wife got home late, tired, distraught, emotionally exhausted and was waking to herd the kids off to school. The little nippers were stretching, peeing, brushing, screaming, crying, and stating what they would not do. And then I heard it…

“Honey get in here!!!!”

So many thoughts run through my mind – she’s fallen and can’t get up, she found my box of porn, my daughter’s got the dreaded pukes, her fucking fish died again..... I slowly walk in and in front of her is my daughter’s “acorn collection”—a laundry basket half-way filled with a shit-ton of acorns.

“It’s Macy’s acorn collection and it’s out of freakin’ control. So what?”

“No – come here and look!” she says.

I walk closer and within the cute, harmless acorn collection are tons of what look like—white maggots.

I’m all – “WTF?!!” And she’s all “OMG.” Meanwhile the daughter can’t see what’s in there and is screaming that we can’t throw away her precious horded acorns! There were hundreds of the little bastards….on her floor, in her carpet, and who knows where else…..in the cat? In her hair? In her bed? IN HER BARBIES??!!!!!

OK – put on your science hats cause here comes your lesson!

What we experienced this morning was the little known and completely misunderstood acorn weevil larva. See – a small, brown-colored adult acorn weevil looks like a beetle. This daughter-of-a-bitch takes her long anteater like snout, burrows a hole in an acorn, and lays its larva. This maggot-looking larva lunches on the interior acorn nut all summer. Then, as Fall arrives, the bastard chews a perfectly round 1/8-inch hole in the side of the nut, crawls out, burrows itself into the ground, hangs out for one to two years and the Houdini-wanna-be emerges as an adult acorn weevil where it then finds acorns to start the process all over again.

And here’s another little known fact. Squirrels can tell if there’s an acorn weevil larva in a nut just by simply picking it up.

I’m absolutely convinced Mother Nature created these things simply to fuck with parents of small children. I mean, the weevil’s entire life centers around the laying of larva that emerges looking like a maggot. And, if he’s lucky enough to emerge and find himself in a cozy, pink bedroom with parents starring and children screaming – then he’s considered a rock star and dies a quick, famous rock star death. If not - then he just burrows in the ground to try his luck again two years later.

So – I write this to educate my fellow parental brethren. Go forth…spread the word and end this plague on the sanity’s of our kind. Ban acorns from your house and make sure no other acorn weevil larva is ever considered a rock star again!!!

Oh – and to end the story – the larva are harmless to furniture, carpets, people, etc.. When they can’t burrow into the ground they just lay there, wiggle harmlessly and die. You just sweep them up and you’re finished and can go try and drink the memory of the event away.

 The End

4 Days as a Single Dad

On Friday the wifey took off to N.C. to be with her cousin who’s on the losing side of a vicious battle with cancer. My heart broke as I watched her walk out the door, knowing that what she was about to experience would be something she’d never forget.

As I slowly turned around, fighting the tears, I was met with two kids standing side-by-side, the son holding a car, the daughter holding her blanket. They gave me a look that clearly said, “all right old man…we can do this one of two ways. The hard way, or the easy way…you chose.”

I chose the easy way and quickly made-up a massive batch of chocolate chip cookies….or what I like to call, a pan of bribery.

Saturday I woke up to my son sitting next to me on the bed, looking at my tattoo on my arm and saying, “I’m gonna tell your mommy you have a tattoo.”

I gave them the run of the place Saturday. And they fucking destroyed it. Paints, stuff animals, clothes, blocks, games, Legos, food, spilled milk, TV, and minor amounts of blood. I had given them a total kid day in the house and they took full advantage.

Sunday I woke up to my son sitting next to me on the bed saying, “Daddy, while I was peeing Jasper’s (our cat) tail went through my pee and now he’s laying on your bed.”

We spent Sunday handing out daddy’s hard earned cash. We saw Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, ate Baja Fresh, and spent a few hours at a park swinging, playing soccer and basketball, climbing, and looking at moms…..uh, I mean playing on the jungle gym. They came home dirty and tired.

The wifey comes back Tuesday night and I’m pretty sure by then I’ll be bound, shoved in a closet, and the house will be set on fire.

I love that my wife can bolt whenever she wants and the kids and I just roll into daddy mode. I love that they get my humor, tackle me when I least expect it, tell me secrets, and wake me up spewing awesomeness from their minds. I love that they love me. And I hate that I can’t look back and remember similar experiences from when I was growing up with my dad.

This morning I dropped my son off at school, walked across the street and dropped my daughter off at her school. As her class started walking down the hall, she jumped out of line, ran up to me, hugged my legs, then threw her face towards the sky, closed her eyes and puckered.

 That’s what it’s all about….

 

The Past Few Months in Pics

Just a few of my favorite pictures the wifey took over the past few months. Enjoy!