The Call & Repeat

I've written before about how our family has a "safety call." Actually it's just a reason for us to be obnoxious in public.

If we can't find each other we just simply scream "cuhcaw!!!" at the top of our lungs until the other person yells it back.

But recently I've taken it upon myself to create a "party call." You know, when you're on the dance floor and some dude is all "oooha oooha," and then everyone repeats it back to him.

Well, no matter where I am with the kids, they seem incapable of not repeating that sound back when I make it.

I give you, Exhibit A:

I'm Insane...So I make My Kids Insane from WhyIsDaddyCrying on Vimeo.

What Us Dudes Do When Left Alone

So the wife and kids have been in North Carolina since Saturday and they’re going to be there for the next three weeks visiting family, going to the beach, hitting parties, and just living the good life.

Me? I’m left behind with the damn cat, the stupid dog, and my jobby job.

Us dudes crave alone time…as do the ladies I’m sure. I’ve been dreaming about this family vacation that I’m not a part of for months now.

But when it finally comes to fruition, well, it’s not all it’s cracked-up to be.

I mean getting all the time you want in the bathroom AND being able to keep the door open? Pretty damn sweet.

Getting pictures sent from the wife of the kids having an amazing time at the beach. Sucks.

Having the ice cream man drive down your street without getting barraged by children screaming “daddy I want ice cream please please please please please!!!?!!!” is like Christmas early.

Climbing into an empty bed…sucks.

Taking a picture of yourself at midnight brushing your teeth? A whole batch of dumb instigated by boredom.

Walking by the kids’ rooms and seeing their empty beds day after day after day? Sucks.

Doing a cartwheel in the hallway naked just to see if you’re physically capable of doing it and hitting your head on the wall? Awesome!

Not having sex for three weeks? Hold on…I’m tearing-up again…I’ll be right back.

Sliding into your room naked in front of a mirror and only wearing socks while singing at the top of your lungs? Scary but awesome.

Cleaning the entire kitchen and living room and not being able to brag about how you “helped around the house?” Sucks

Yelling at the half gallon of milk in the fridge because it’s taking up too much beer storage space? Things are going downhill at this point but still awesome.

Getting amazing news that you’ve gotten a new job and can’t celebrate because you’re family’s gone for three weeks? Sucks

So as you can see it’s a win/lose situation. But in the end I’m so happy the family gets to experience those great summer vacations.

I just hope with this new job, next summer I’ll be with them.

The Truth About Parenting Acronyms

So, there’s a ton of new parents out there in the world today trying to muddle their way through the management of their little ankle biters.

As the proud owner of a 6 and 8-year-old, I feel it’s my duty to impart upon them just a sample of the parenting acronyms they might encounter on playgrounds or during play-dates.

Much like government agencies, parenting is riddled with acronyms that at first seem to sound like simple words…but really mean something entirely different.

Come with me…let’s take a quick gander at just a handful…

DAMN

Diapers Are Most Negative!!

KIDS SUCK

Karate In Daughter’s Sunday School Usually Changes Karate

I FEEL LIKE MY WIFE WILL NEVER SLEEP WITH ME AGAIN

I Forget Every Evening  Little Leopards Intuitively Kill Elephants Mostly Yearlings While I Feel Lonely Lethargic Nervous Even Vigorously Ravenous So Listen Equally Even People We Intelligent Thespians Have More Equal Agnostic Gains As Iguana Nightcrawlers.

I HATE PREGNANCY

I Have A Terrific Energetic Passion Regarding Early Gestational Notions Around Nurturing Child Yolks

YOUR KID SUCKS

Your Obnoxious Ridiculous Kid Is Doing Significant Sucky Uncouth Cock-o-mainy Krazy Shit

I LOVE YOU

I Love Only Vaginas Even Your Orange Undergarments

POOP

People Often Ooze Poo

Those are just a few of the many many parenting acronyms that exist. So, next time you hear me tell my wife “I LOVE YOU”….well, you’ll know what I’m really saying.



Attachment Issues

My daughter is one of those girls that stays attached to her mommy at all times.

Occasionally it works to my advantage.

Like, when the daughter puked up a vat of semi-digested popcorn the other night.

I got stuck cleaning chunks off sheets while the wife got to hold the daughter's hair back as she "talked to Ralph on the big white phone."

Other times...well, it's not so awesome.

Like, when 10 adults and us spend the first hour of a dinner party having to spell out naughty words so the daughter doesn't learn what "flashing, douchebags, and quickies" are.

It's been a long and painful road watching the daughter remain attached to the wife in social settings.

I stay out of it waiting for the wife to drop her Jedi-mind-trick-ninja-awesomeness stuff on her. In the old days that would result in the daughter perplexed and left hanging with kids before she knew what happened.

Now, the daughter just laughs and gives the wife that, “time to step-it-up a notch loser” look within seconds of saying, “hey look, an awesome movie’s on in the other room!!”

However, this past weekend was huge.

The family hit an awesome party which for the first hour the daughter decided she was 38 and ready to be an adult with everyone.

I watched as she made eye-contact with the adults as they told stories. She smiled at punch-lines. She was entranced at long tales recounting drunken nakedness through the neighborhood.

That’s when I knew the attachment had to be broken.

Visions of the daughter being 12 years old, drinking beer, hanging with the adults, telling stories we’re all drunkingly laughing at while wondering “who invited the super young chick to the party” filled my head.

NO!

She needed to hang with the kids.

And that’s when I come in.

Scooping the daughter up, tickling her as I lead her to the massive cookie stash just steps from the “Night at the Museum” movie blaring next to the gaggle of kids with juice-stained mouths.

Within minutes she was double fisting sugar awesomeness and being swept up by the kid-magic.

And I…I escaped back to the world of drunkin stupidness. A couple hours later, she was in the middle of the room doing the robot as we all laughed our asses off.

A circle of adults and kids were her audience as she juked and jived around the floor. The same little girl who a few hours ago wouldn’t let go of her mommy’s leg.

The wife and I basked in the light of hope that our little angel might finally be breaking out of her shell. Doubtful…but hopeful.

 

My Kids Are Making-Out In the Back Seat

“Let’s have a kissing war! Grayson, you kiss me and I’ll kiss you back!”

Those were the words which cut through the air and pierced my eardrums as we were driving in the car over the weekend.

I immediately looked over to the wife who was engrossed in her Christmas gifted Kindle.

Clueless as to the words that just filled the air she looked at me and said, “what? What are you looking at? Do I have a boogie hangin?”

Me: “The kids are making out in the backseat!!!”

Wife: “What?!!!”

In movie-like slow motion I see her turn to her left, burning me with a “why does everything have to do with sex with you” look which quickly turns to a “holy shit my daughter and son are about to make out” look.

Watching through the review mirror I see the same horror as her. The daughter is leaning into the brother with a smooch on her lips as the boy finds the nearest solid object to hold in-front of his face.

Being a born and raised North Carolina native, all I could imagine was trotting off with the wife 15 years from now to see our children and driving up to wobbly trailer with my son in nothing but overalls, holding a Budweiser and missing three-quarters of his teeth.

I pictured getting out of the car to hear the boy yell to his pregnant sister/wife, “go on now and feed baby number 5 fore I’s- a tell mamma and papa you’s-a-been smokin’ and drankin’ durin’ pregnancy agin.”

Wife: “Macy!!! No! We don’t do that!!”

Macy: “But I see you and daddy do it!”

The wife and I immediately looked at each other with a “when the hell has she ever seen us kiss? We haven’t done that nonsense since…well since New Year’s 1994” look.

Wife: “Baby, mommy and daddy aren’t brother and sister. We are adults and married. We are happy that you want to kiss Grayson, but you should only do it as a peck on his cheek. Not on the lips.”

Me: “Macy, boys are disgusting. School work and never going out with boys until your 26 years old is really the way to safely go about living your life.

“Now, your brother was brought into this world simply to provide protection against the gross boys who might try to hold your hand, caress your hair, or baby-jesus forbid…kiss you. You should not kiss Grayson, yet merely thank him when he beats-down a young lad who’s entered your ‘personal zone.’”

Grayson: “Mommy, is that true? Is that really why I’m on Earth?”

Wife: “No dear, your father’s an idiot and a freak-of-nature. You are with our family because we love you and wanted a beautiful young boy to share our lives with.”

Macy: “Mommy?! Can I really not kiss boys until I’m 26 years old?”

Wife: “Yes dear. Sorry, but those are the rules.”

When the kids weren’t looking the wife and I gave a quick fist-bump to each other. Now THAT’s good parenting!