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.

My Son's Balls Are Making Him Competitive

Everything is a freakin’ competition with the boy these days. EVERYTHING!!

Going to the car. Daughter gets elbowed from behind and face-plants as the boy flies by to be the first to a door that is still locked and holds not a single trophy for him on the other side.

Walking down stairs….it’s like watching a murder scene in slow motion as he plows by me, throws his sister against the banister and jumps the last five steps so he can crash himself to the floor and claim victory as carnage and blood drip down the stairs in his wake.

Taking a shower. Within two minutes of walking out of the bathroom, I’ll hear the water cut-off and “daddy I’m finished!!!” echoes through the house till it finds my vulnerable eardrums a mere three seconds before ultimate relaxation comes over me. I vow to tape record this so when he’s a teenager and spends a half hour masturbating washing in the shower, I can prove that he has the ability to take one quickly.

Drinking his milk. The daughter doesn’t even like milk…so who the fuck is he racing? He’ll choke it down…white shit spewing from his nose, eyes watering like hell, slam the cup on the table and announce, “finished!!” while still breathing hard and sporting one kick-ass milk mustache. And for what?!

Playing Wii. I’m gonna just throw the damn thing away. I’m determined not to let him win all the time so that he learns to be a respectful loser, but damn….it’s like getting kicked in the nuts every two minutes. It’s painful and makes me cry, fall to my knees and want my mommy to hold me.

I’m competitive, but nothing like this. Is it the red hair? Is it his balls? That’s what it’s gotta be…those tiny little marbles of his are probably working overtime growing, expanding…. It’s like Donald Trump moved into my kids sac, started building skyscrapers everywhere, and decided to run for mayor, start his own TV show, take over the circulatory system, and overthrow his brain chemistry all in one foul swoop.

And the daughter totally provokes it. We’ll be on our way out the door to go somewhere and the boy will be off chasing something shiny in a corner. Then the daughter gets that evil grin and says, “Grrraaaayyyssooonnn….. I’m gonna be first to the caaaaarrrrr.”

And his head will poke up from behind the couch, and immediately he springs to his feet, vaults the ottoman, ducks and slides under my waiting arm to stop him, slams his sister against the front step railing, falls on concrete but turns it into a tumble, and slams into the car door, flipping around claiming victory! And behind him is a pissed dad, a mother picking up a bleeding, crying daughter, and a cat slowly slipping out of the house through the wide-open door while everyone’s distracted.

I just hope someday his competitiveness can be brought under control, harnessed, and used to make mommy and daddy rich beyond their wildest dreams. Until then…..I’ll I guess I’ll just write about it.