Grow The Hell Up Already!

The other day the wife and I stood up from a two-hour session of financial budget crunching and strategery to stretch, high five over renewed resolutions and try to ignore the suckness that is adulthood.

It was about that time our boy came down stairs to inform us of his struggles with having to give up half the pack of gum (per my request) to his beloved sister.

This would eliminate two whole pieces of gum from the boy’s life.

Two…

Pieces of gum…

Causing much sadness, regret, torture and just outright anger.

Gum.

For shit-sake…GUM!!

It’s moments like this that you want grab the precious little angel by the neck, strap him in a chair and introduce him to the vicious world of bills, jobs, commuting, groceries, dogs shitting all over your yard, babysitter fees, and taking a shower hoping for sex only to find out tonight’s “Netflix’s mega-shownight!!” only to find out hours later that your wife made that whole damn naming convention up.

There are times when the girl is breaking down because we want to comb her hair so random lice-infested birds flying by don’t claim her furry skull as a future home.

There are times when the boy can’t believe his father met him at the school bus in his 1991 shiny blue running tights and shirt picturing a huge sandwich with SILF written under it.

I remember as a kid believing my world was going to end because I had to wear a pair of “jams” my mom made that puffed out in the front like I had a “butt in front.”

I was devastated.

Probably the most common phrase ever muttered between parents is “if only I knew how miniscule my problems were as a kid.”

But we still appreciate them and understand them because we were once there.

We panicked when we walked into school with the knock-off Members Only jacket.

I freaked when kids called me names on the soccer field.

For shit sake my most favorite song for years was “The Rainbow Connection” by Kermit the fucking Frog!!

But I keep telling myself and the kids…this time…is just a blip on the radar of your life.

Years from now we’ll be drinking beers at a pub with the kids while laughing over the fact they’d fight over some dorky game called Angry Birds.

Or that the kid who bullied them in the school bathroom now pummels their Facebook page with Amway products.

The hardest part is not telling your kids to let the bullshit parts of childhood roll off their backs…it’s instilling the strength in them to believe in themselves.

I for one am guilty as hell of that.

Hire My Dumb-Ass!

With there being just a slight gap between my last paycheck and the new job I’m about to take, the wifey and I have realized the slight forthcoming pinch to our finances. We’ll make it work, but it’s definitely raised question marks above my head about whether I should try to land a quick one-day or two-day job that could put some walking cash in my pocket till I’m employed again?

With the wifey’s approval to the idea, I sat down and quickly took inventory of the many skills I’ve gained naturally or through this extended break as a stay-at-home dad. Once I exhausted the list and eight beers along with it, I quickly hand crafted a classified ad I plan to run in this week’s paper. I figured throwing it up on my blog couldn’t hurt either.

So…if you’re in the need and a skill seems to fit…let a brother know and give me a call!

Help Wanted

• Young, strapping lad looking for small, non-handy-man jobs to be accomplished around the house.
• Able to provide light hammering of nails, painting, yard mowing and weed-eating.
• Incapable of anything requiring plumbing, electrical, picture hanging, wood cutting, leveling, or other type of manly-man focused household activities.
• Enjoys long walks along the beach and may occasionally look out of his peripherals to view the random bikini-clad lady.
• Eclectic skills abound, ranging from professional beer taster, Jager-bomb maker, running buddy, shower soap holder, sex slave, compliment giver, beer fetcher, break-dance freak of nature, twitcher, professional thumb wrestler, make your friends laugh at my lisp-er, stay up late laughing at other people’s expenses-er, put soft socks on me after a few too many beers and tell me to walk down these wooden stairs and watch me tumble-er, willing to see what can fit in the gap between my teeth while you watch-er, drinker and laugher.

Please note that if I:

• Wear no pants on Friday
• Am caught using your interweb machine thingy
• Watch your pay-per-view
• Destroy CDs in your music collection I believe is pure shit
• Drink all of your beer
• Cram a full day’s worth of work into the 35 minutes before you come home, then fake looking exhausted and saying, “wow…what…a…day. I am beat!!”
• Look you straight in the eyes and say, “yeah, it seriously looks good doesn’t it?!” when you ask, “did you even paint this fucking room today?”
• Twitter about all the insane stuff I find throughout your house (this includes TwitPics)
• Access your Facebook account
• And, hide random empty beer bottles, condoms and pictures of “spy horse” throughout your house

then I cannont be held responsible for said repercussions and damage.

Disclaimer

The party responsible for hiring WhyIsDaddyCrying must hold all responsibilities for said activities and damage and are forbidden from demeaning, beating, laughing-at, Twittering about, or calling his wife regarding any of these issues. You will NOT call the police. WhyIsDaddyCrying holds all copyright regarding anything stolen, TwitPic’d, written about, looked at, sat on, or beer-spilled on. If I look at you, you are considered copyrighted by WhyIsDaddyCrying. WhyIsDaddyCrying is not sold in foreign countries and may be harmful to your health. If you speak to, look at, lick, shake hands with, or brush-up against WhyIsDaddyCrying, please call your physician immediately and tell him/her your situation. WhyIsDaddyCrying is not harmful to children under the age of 18, but should be kept far far away if you’ve witnessed him ingest more than 2 bottles of wine and/or Jager. WhyIsDaddyCrying is not a laxative nor a diabetic cleanser.

Call Today If You Need Simple Jobs Done!

1-800-468-3825 or email whyisdaddycrying (at) gmail (dot) com



The Wifey & I Have a Talk

Wifey: “I did this for an entire freakin’ summer you douche!”

Me: “I don’t know how in the hell you pulled this off. Were you on crack the whole time or what? I mean, I’m two minutes from jumping off a bridge.”

Wifey: “That’s why men could NEVER birth children.”

Me: “Fuck yeah we couldn’t!!! The world as we know it wouldn’t exist. Humans would have died out centuries ago. We wouldn’t be having this conversation cause I’d be a tiny worthless sperm cell sitting in front of the egg all: “screw that dude, you go ahead…I’m good. I’ll just take pictures of you being all bad-ass and put it on your Facebook page!”

Wifey: “Speaking of Facebook, you seriously need to be more careful about what you put on there. People there know who you are. It’s not Twitter jackass.”

Me: “Say that shit on Twitter…people will cut you woman.”

Wifey: “If Grayson ever calls me ‘woman’ cause he over-hears you saying that to me I swear you’ll need to wear a cup around me for a year.”

Me: “Look – you’re getting off the point. Three days!! Three day’s I’ve taken the kids sledding. And today I added a third child. And there was crying…anger…crying…ambulances…more crying. But it’s only been three days. How the hell did you do it for three months?”

Wifey: “Seriously – snow and ice and you want a medal?”

Me: “And when I got home I made snacks. The children loved the peanut buttery snacks. And TV was on. And all was good. Serenity rained down upon the land. And then Grayson came down stairs crying like a baby cause your freakin’ “mini-me” daughter socked him in the eye for trying to teach her how to say “the!” The simplest word on the planet – “the!!!” Well, next to “a.”

Wifey: “She hit him in the eye? What did you do?!”

Me: “I Googled ‘daughter hits brother in eye’ and a ton of videos came up. And they were so awesome. So then I Skyped my brother to show him some of these videos so I could see his reaction. It was hilarious. Actually – get the lap-top you HAVE to see this one...”

Wifey: “You seriously need medication you ADD bastard! What’s wrong with you?”

Me: “Oh, no…it’s cool. The kids made up and were making art projects by the time I got off Skype! In fact, they made you a Valentines card!”

Wifey: “For the record – when I leave in the morning for work…I leave scared for my children’s lives!”

Me: “You’re taking me all wrong. I just wanted to say that I appreciate everything you did as a stay-at-home-mom for a year. I’ve been doing it for not even two weeks and I hurt. I hurt everywhere. And I appreciate you.”

Wifey: “No!”

Me: “No what?”

Wifey: “No. No we cannot have sex tonight. I still have to write like 30 thank you notes from Christmas.”

Me: “Damn you and your ninja mind-tricks. How in the hell did you know?!”

Wifey: “You’re like the cat, dumb-ass. You only come around all happy and caring and stuff when you want to be fed. In your case, when you want some action. Back off dude!”

Me: “No, seriously. I appre-ci-ate you!!!”

Wifey: “It….ain’t….happ-en-ing!!!”

Me: “I took your children to see the new Alvin and the Chipmunks movie woman! Baby Jesus…that should get me sex for 6 weeks straight!”

Wifey: “’Your children?’ Really…you just dropped the ‘your’ word in talking about ‘our’ children? And also – idiot-boy - I was there, too! We shared the pain together!”

Me: “Holy shit you saw that movie too?! I swear to god…if I ever see anything as awful as that again…I told you I appreciate you right?”

Wife: “You seriously scare me. And, No!!!”

Me: “Fine! The appreciative train has left the station. You’re gonna have to work for it now!”

Wifey: “Damn. That sucks. And you said we weren’t doing Christmas gifts this year. Hey – can you toss me that pillow before you leave the room? That’d be great!”