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.

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.

  

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.



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



The Journey To A Warm Sunny Morning

Last night was just hard parenting night.

The boy was studying for his science test, which to us seemed like he was studying for his MCATs.

The daughter? She was spouting sentences beginning with “Can I have…”faster than Lindsay Lohan’s right hand in a jewelry store.

The wife? She was looking at me with a tear in one eye.

Me?

I tried to find my happy place.

And once I’m there, I just know that one day…

I’ll slide into my favorite chair on the back porch, in the sun, placed in just the right spot where I perch my feet perfectly enough to rest my head back just enough to feel the warmth of the morning sun.

The smell of coffee and the amazing sounds of South San Gabriel engulf me.

It’s the year 2022, my youngest left for college a week earlier.

The dining room is filled with family picture books, empty bottles of wine, wet floor-boards from last night’s tears, and the wife is still sleeping upstairs comfortably.

When I open my eyes I see the boy walking towards me with his bike, sporting his grey helmet saying, “come on dad!! Let’s go for a ride!”

His innocence and love to share life with good people immediately warms me.

And when I close them I see my daughter in her pretty fancy red dress running up to me, turning around and saying “zip me up daddy!”

Her raw emotion, passion and love makes me want to just hold her.

I’ll reach down, grab my cell and send them both just simple text knowing damn well they’ll see it hours later when they finally creep out of their college, stank-filled beds. They’ll probably shrug it off, maybe take a second to respond, possibly post it on a future “I wish my parents didn’t have a damn cell phone” blog site.

But the hope is that when they see my text: “I love you. Rock life and make yourself proud. We already are.” – they remember…

The tall goofy bastard who tickled them early in the morning until they peed themselves.

The stories I made-up late at night based on any three things they wanted.

The fact their mother and I were there…for everything…proudly.

And I’ll miss them.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll be glad they’ve moved on and badly wishing they took the damn dog with them.

But I’ll miss them.

Everything leading up to that warm sunny morning…is the shaping of lives and the creation of memories.