Parenting is Like Training for the Olympics

“Hey daddy?”

“Yes son? I’m right here by the way. Right in front of you. In fact, besides the dog, I’m the only living creature who can communicate in English with you…right now…this very moment. So, there’s really no need to begin your ten-thousandth question with my name.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes Grayson.”

“You think I can have a friend over this afternoon?”

“Probably not buddy. Your mom and I have to do a couple things.”

“Can you do them while I have a friend over?”

“No Grayson. Seriously, we’re going to need you to have some down time and just read or play on your own so we can knock out this project.”

“Are you going to begin the project now? Can I have someone over before the project?”

“No, we’re getting ready to do the project.”

“How about after? If someone comes over during I’ll be out of your way and you can work on the project.”

“Grayson. Stop talking. Stop asking questions. The answer’s no!”

“Why?”

“Because I’m your father and I explained enough that we have plans and they don’t include you having a friend over!!”

I walk away to get water. Three steps into the kitchen I hear the boy say, “Hey daddy?”

And at that very moment in time you realize the patience, control, training and strength an Olympian must feel when they’re seconds from their race. Fuck yeah I just compared parenting to being an Olympian! Are you gonna look me in the eye-balls and tell me I’m wrong!?!

My son’s questions are becoming mind-numbingly painful. To the point to where I feel like I should set aside an hour a day to take his future teacher out for drinks after the school bell rings each day.

But you know how I get by?

I dream.

I dream of a day. A sunny, yet cool day.  

And I have a handshake agreement with the world that after this next conversation with my child goes down it will be erased from his memory.

And for once I have a green light to answer the boy’s questions how I see fit.

And it goes down like this:

The Boy: “Daddy?”

Me: “Say Daddy again I can assure you I won’t close the door or turn the fans and radio on the next time your mom and I have sex!!”

The Boy: “Can I have a play date?”

Me: “You're adopted and Santa's not real.”

The Boy: “Why are you so stressed?”

Me: “Because my dear boy, your questions are like a weed eater against my shin….relentlessly slicing me until I feel like walking into traffic!!”

The Boy: “Wanna go kick the soccer ball?”

Me: “Fuck yes!”

And then we go outside, kick the ball with great music playing in the background. And that’s when I start asking the questions…

“How was camp dude?”

“Are you excited for soccer season to start?”

“You know I love you right?”

And when he becomes a teenager, roles will reverse….and he…he will be the one blogging about his dad’s incessant painfully boring questions. And he’ll be wishing them to stop.

So until then, I’ll keep perspective and keep answering to my new beloved name, “Hey Daddy?”

A Note To Myself About 36 Things Over The Past 36 Years

On Sunday I’ll be a whopping 36 years old.

So, before I entered into this long weekend of celebration I thought I’d sit down and spend a few moments reflecting on the years that have flown by.

Upon reflecting I decided to write myself a quick little note recapping some of the highlights I thought my dumbass would want to know if I should ever be lucky enough to do this whole life thing all over again.

A Note To Myself About 36 Things Over The Past 36 Years

1) Music can get you through the most fucked-up of times.

2) Sometimes just sitting in an airport with your best friends laughing like hell as you people-watch and wait for someone to step on a chewed piece of gum in the middle of the floor is all you need at that very moment in life.

3) If you’re a dude…never…and I mean never masturbate without lube.

4) When you’re in middle school, do not tape a mirror to your shoe so you can look up girls’ skirts. It doesn’t work and makes teachers a little angry.

5) Bacon

6) That time you fall in the snow, can’t move, and get molested from behind by a very large dog in front of all your friends who were laughing too hard to do anything to help. Yeah….you’d do the same.

7) You’ll spend a good part of your life wishing you could do your honeymoon over again with the wife. And then again.

8) Brace yourself for that first flight you make from NY to NC. Your cousin will introduce you to Led Zeppelin popping your ear’s virginity. Welcome to the land of music my friend.

9) Parading in front of your wife at 11 p.m. wearing nothing but her panties is not a smart thing to do unless she’s drunk.

10) You’ll sext your wife once. Only once. Give it time, you’ll see why and it won’t be pretty.

11) Do not spend even one second of time trying to make your wife laugh when she’s in the last stages before pushing a human out of her vagina.

12) After running a marathon, avoid walking down flights of stairs for at least four days.

13) As a horny teenager, it’s best to close your room door when you “plunk your twanger” because I guarantee your mom will bust your sorry ass.

14) DO NOT go see Paula Abdul in concert because you think that will get you to second base with your girlfriend. You won’t even get a kiss and a piece of your music soul will die that night!

15) Standing naked and holding your “package” in front of your wife as you say, “This is the Honey Badger. It's pretty bad-ass, look at it go….” Will NOT turn her on.

16) Don’t ever hand your 2-year-old a ginger root to chew on when you’re not 100% sure what a ginger root even tastes like cause you’re still a rookie at cooking.

17) Standing up in the middle of a math test in 9^th grade and shoving an ink pen in the fan for no apparent reason is not smart. Not smart at all.

18) That first tattoo you get…yeah, you probably should have thought twice.

19) When your first child finally comes into the world he won’t breath for almost a minute, but hang tight….all will be good.

20) When your brother talks you into hiding your report cards from your parents for half a summer so he won’t get in trouble and can enjoy his time, don’t…..fucking…..do it.

21) Go see that Pearl Jam and Ben Harper concert again, only this time sneak your ass to the front row.

22) Yeah, ummm…remember that Indian pipe you hit with a few other friends that night in college. Yeah….it’s laced. Run away my man – run away!!!

23) DO NOT wear those jams to school that your mom keeps making you from scratch! They give you a “butt in front” look and will get you almost killed.

24) Don’t listen to what people say. 90210 sideburns are still badass in 2011.

25) That red thong you bought yourself, thinking you girlfriend (now wife) would be turned on by it? Yeah….not so much. Actually, you know what? Fucking buy it and wear the hell out of it!!

26) Keep sneaking out of the house in middle and high school. You never get caught my man.

27) At some point in your life you’re gonna get manipulated into a whole host of bad shit. And you’ll have to continue to deal with lies and manipulation from that person. Rise above and enjoy life brother.

28) In 2010 your wife and children will get wide-eyed and beg you to buy a Cavalier King Charles. Throw a temper-tantrum and never give in!!!

29) No matter how hungry you are….never…and I mean NEVER buy sushi from Target and eat it.

30) The relationship you build with your children will be the most humbling experience of your life. Let it motivate you.

31) Your wife is the single strongest, greatest, most supportive and loving woman you’ll ever have the joy of sharing a life with. Embrace it and never let a second slip by.

32) Your wife does not think it’s cool that you can make your limp pecker look like a helicopter blade simply by flinging it around in circles really fast.

33) Do not walk into Pet Smart and joke to the lady who’s about to shampoo your dog by saying, “and if you find the dog’s hair just a bit too difficult to wash, we give you permission to just put him down.” They don’t find that humor funny there genius.

34) Don’t spend your life staring at people in stores. It will only motivate them to talk to you about the most drivel shit in their lives.

35) In middle school you’re gonna start using Skoal and not stop for 10 years. Don’t freakin’ do it my man. Your mouth will thank you.

36) You are one lucky lucky bastard to have lived the life you’ve been given. Send yourself another note in 36 more years with even better shit to brag and warn me about.

I Used To Sneak Out

Let me start this post by noting that my mother reads my blog. She occasionally leaves me little messages on my personal Facebook page putting me in my place after reading posts like the one about her chasing my brother and me around the house with wooden spoons.

I’m a bit lucky that so far she hasn’t sent me a gift from this website www.BoxOfShit.com.

But, I think after this post my luck will run out. So, mom…get up and just walk away from the computer. Go on….leave woman!!

Is she gone? OK, let’s do this.

So, I used to sneak out of my house with such regularity as a kid you’d think I was practicing for an Olympic gold medal in it.

I knew my parents nightly routine like the back of my hand.

9:10 – 10:36 p.m. – Fight like cats & dogs

10:36 – 11:21 p.m. – Father takes his drunk ass upstairs to watch HBO late night softcore porn

11:22 – 11:48 p.m. – Father passes out, mother follows suit.

12 p.m. – The house falls silent and the countdown is on till the coast is clear.

Waiting till the coast is clear for sneaking out is the hardest and longest time of your lives. I can’t tell you how many times I’d wake up to my alarm going off at 6 a.m. and screaming, “SHIT!!!!”

But one day I was digging through an old dresser in our guest bedroom and found this old-school clock that had an alarm only a mouse could appreciate. I set the alarm, put all my faith in it, and at 1:01 a.m. it went off.

I quickly snapped the alarm off and sat straight-up in bed listening.

My father was in his regular deep deep slumber which sounds like a mix between a 1920s broke-ass sawmill and two constipated virgin elephants trying to make sweet love.

My mother, she always slept like a rock. I can’t tell you how many times as a kid I’d run into her room frantically trying to wake her up  to impart upon her the very exciting news that I was about to throw-up all over this lovely house of ours. By the time she woke up to my childish nudging and whispering, “mommy… I think I’m going to...” I would inevitably puke all over the floor and bed beside her.

A smile crept across my face as I knew I had found a way to get in sleep while also being able to escape for a while in the middle of the night.

The next piece was huge. Putting together the elaborate mental puzzle I’d created that when put together, revealed the exact locations to step when walking down the carpeted L-shaped stairs to freedom.

The key to it all…banisters. After three steps I could place my hands on both banisters and swing my anti-gymnastic-skilled-ass passed five steps and a half-landing.

The last three steps always squeaked the loudest so I had to turn around and take those them backwards so I could steady myself with my hands.  

At that point…it’s game-on and I was out of there.

I never really had a purpose to sneak out at night. Very rarely would I meet-up with a friend. When I did it usually ended with them saying, “why in the hell are we doing this? I’m tired dude!!!”

My brother used to make the journey from time to time with me. But again, why? We get to hang out all day every day. Why waste sleep and risk getting caught to do it under moonlight?

So, I’d just walk or ride my bike. I’d go to the lake nearby and throw rocks from an old decrepit concrete pier. I’d occasionally leave a tennis ball in my girlfriend’s mailbox so she’d find it and think I was a badass rebel.

I experimented with smoking and alcohol.

But most importantly I was living that very moment of my life exactly how I wanted to live it. There were no rules. No parents. No one was watching.

Parents weren’t fighting. My father wasn’t asking me to make him drinks.

The escape I’d created in my room with music, my piano, writing poems, and reading lyrics had gotten so much larger. It was now filled with fresh air, endless roads and no boundaries.

But despite all the freedom and time alone with my brain, there was a tiny little piece of me that found motivation to sneak out of the house from the idea that I might get caught.

I figured, if I was caught, it would show my father that I was in control of me and capable of leaving his tiny kingdom whenever I wanted. I could defy him. I could break the chains whenever I felt like it.

And like that the night would be over. It was time to head home.

There was always this one corner that was six houses away. As soon as I turned that corner I’d have a clear shot of my parents’ bedroom windows.

Light on – I’m screwed.

Light off – Home free. Just make it through the front door and the rest can be explained by sleep walking.

In all the times I ventured into the night, I never came home to find a light on.

I never came home to find my mother and father sitting downstairs holding the letter I left on my pillow every time I snuck out that read:

Dear Mom:

I am OK. Nothing bad has happened to me. I snuck out of the house to just go for a walk and be alone. I know it’s very dangerous for me to do and I’m sorry.

I love you and will be home very shortly. I hope you will not be too mad and if you found this before dad woke up all I ask is that you don’t wake him or tell him until we talk.

Love,

Justin

A few times a year when I can’t sleep in the middle of the night I’ll get up, toss on the running gear and go out for a short three-miler. As my feet pound pavement I look at all the rows of houses dark and filled with slumber and I feel free again.

Free like a 14-year-old boy gliding through the streets of his neighborhood at 1:30 a.m. without a care in the world and nothing to lose.



Top 10 Things I Freakishly Enjoy

Yesterday I pulled up to the gas station to piss away even more money to “the man.” I did my usual dumping of my car garbage, then grabbed the squeegee and started cleaning my windows.

Completely soaked in 22-day-old non-soapy water, my windows were ready to be squeegeed off. As I slowly pulled that first line of water off I felt the day’s tenseness go away. The second line I felt even more relaxed. By the time the entire windshield was done I felt like a badass and the entire day’s insanity slip away!

OK, not that good, but damn it was a weird spooky kind of relief.

I got back in the car completely freaked out by myself and thought, “that’s just one of those uncommon satisfying things in life that you just kinda secretly enjoy.”

So what are 10 other weird and spooky things that satisfy which I probably shouldn’t reveal?

1) Wiping down the bathroom sink so it’s absolutely spotless. Little dinky hairs, puddles of water, toothpaste globs, boogers…you name it. They collect in the most bizarre places of the sink. Taking my wet hand and cleaning it down is therapeutic in a freaky way.

2) Armor Alling my car dashboard. Seriously…when it’s done and the smell is in the car…I just want to put Led Zeppelin Physical Graffitti in the CD player, go for a ride with the windows down and blare the hell out of the radio.

3) Lawn dances. I won’t lie…I love them. Give me a wedding, eight beers, a shot of Jager, a good song and a dance floor and I’m in heaven. I’ll be doing the “lawn mower” and “weed eater” all night.

4) Speaking of weed-eating…creating perfectly trimmed grass along sidewalks and boarders makes me literally need to take a cold shower afterwards. It’s lawn maintenance porn.

5) Crossing the finish line of a half-marathon race. It’s indescribable. You’re happy, elated, sick, exhausted, motivated, and humbled all at once.

6) Turning my fan to the number 3 setting and sliding my dumb-ass into bed.

7) After 12 minutes of digging, cutting, digging deeper, and almost giving up, finally pulling that damn splinter from your body.

8) Holy shit do I love corn on the cob. The greatest thing ever invented. But damn those stringy annoying thingies that jam ever so strategically in-between your teeth! So when a toothpick slides one of those out from in-between my fucked-up teeth it’s so amazing!

9) Sliding a key along the spine of a new music CD to cut the cellophane that wraps it. Pulling it off, opening the case and the smell that tickles your nose of the freshly printed CD jacket and all the awesomeness it holds.

10) Clipping that annoying toenail. You know…the one that sticks out ever-so-slightly so that it rubs against the toe next to it and makes you want to rip someone’s head off?! Yeah…smoothing that bad-boy out is so freakin’ awesome!

That’s it for today’s freak-show. That’s just a few of my weirdness that is o-so-satisfying in a “daddy, you’re weird!!!” kinda way.

What’s yours?!!! Leave a comment.

It's What's For Dinner

Son: “Dad, what’s for dinner?”

Me: “Pork chops in a pineapple-glazed honey sauce with jasmine rice and edamame .”

Son: “AWWWWWW!!! NOOOO Dad!!! Aw come-on!! Can’t we have pizza?”

And that’s how our nights begin these days.

The kids love rice. They love honey. They love pineapple. And if you put a bowl of edamame in the middle of a room and unleash the little bastards they’ll literally fight to the death until it’s all gone.

Feeding edamame to them is like tying down a small child and throwing it into a room full of zombies. Yeah…like that.

But when you lovingly toss it all together on a plate, gleefully place it in front of the troops, stand back and wait for the overwhelming cheers…all we get is the kid’s version of Chef Ramsay.

“Dad! What the fuck is this you donkey? Come here…taste this! It’s crap dad! Crap!”

I absolutely love cooking. There’s nothing better than cranking the radio, pouring a full glass of red wine and knocking out a killer meal. But with the birth of two little rug-rats we’ve fallen victim to the lure of eating out.

Sitting at a table, having beer brought to you on demand without having to lift a finger while plates of goodness are brought is such a wonderful thing. But damn that’s expensive.

And sushi is…make that “was”…our weakness. We LOVE sushi!!! But damn it’s expensive.

The boy has to learn to eat food that costs less than $50 to create. The girl…well, she would eat chicken nuggets and chicken noodle soup until the world ended.

So, we’ve taken the old school “we used to walk to school uphill both ways” philosophy of parenting.

Last night we fed them pork chops. They tried it. They hated it. They went to bed with empty stomachs. And, yes…I showed them the trash can with their food in it and said, “daddy listened to a story on the radio today where a lady who struggles for food said a good day for her is when she gets half a glass of goat milk and cornmeal soup for the day.”

To help the message sink in further, maybe weekend we’ll take the boy to a soup kitchen.

I won’t categorize the experience as learning through guilt. Instead, I chalk it up as teaching through reality.

I’ll know I’m successful when he cleans his plate and then says, “dad, can we volunteer at the soup kitchen again this weekend?”

OK, now I’m dreaming. So I’ll lower my goals and just shoot for the clean plate.