Things I Miss When the Mother-In-Law Visits

For the past week my wife’s mother’s been hanging out at the abode helping referee the kids during their never-ending spring break.

She hopped off the plane direct from North Carolina last week and has since managed to keep our kitchen clean, our clothes folded, and our kids corralled.

Am I about to complain even for a second? Hell no.

But despite the love she’s shown, you can’t help but look forward to getting life back to the way it was, right? I mean, let’s contemplate the top few things I miss when my saint of a mother-in-law is in the hizouse:

• Enjoying a rare 15 min. of semi-interrupted time on the only toilet in the house without having to deal with my insecurities and psychotic thoughts surrounding someone else knowing that I pooped.It’s true, I have serious issues surrounding pooping in public and other’s knowing that I’ve just pooped. But that’s another story for another time.

• Knowing my (men’s underwear + panties = ) manties have not been touched by anyone but myself or the wife.

I’m not gonna lie. I love coming home after work and seeing piles of neatly folded laundry relaxing on top of my made bed.

But what gets me a bit freaked is when I see my manties folded neatly in a perfect square to be kindly put away for safe keeping. I mean, she’s touching where all my dangly bits touch!!

• Yelling at my dog without her saying, “awe, he’s just a puppy.”

My common response is, “you pet him he’s yours Ms. Mother-In-Law person!!”

• OK damn it…I masturbate. There, I said it. Can I do it when the mother-in-law is in the house? Yes! But it’s gotta be strategic, stealthy, and no mistakes can happen. And sometimes that’s just damn exhausting. But I do it anyway… I mean no I don’t!!

• There’s nothing better than walking downstairs completely nude at 5 a.m., fixing a cup of coffee, and just chilling for 30 minutes in the buff before pounding out some miles on the road with a run.

Can I do that with the slightly older Mrs. Wife in the abode? No….it’s just too damn risky. For her sake that is….

• I’m a habitual toucher of the wife. I’m the guy that can’t help myself but to lovingly tap the wife’s buttocks when she walks by or on rare occasions, cop a feel in her upper regions. And, like most women, it usually results in a “can’t I just walk by you without you groping me?” comment.

To which I usually respond, “I’m just celebrating your gorgeous body sweety!”

It’s just not the same when her mother’s watching. You’d think it would be better…but it’s just not.

I could go on…but I’ll save you.

And since my mother-in-law is known to randomly surf my blog, I’ll just end it with:

I love you Nanna!!



I'm Applying To Be On The Bachelor! A Guest Blog Post

The other day my good friend Stacey (@IEatMyKidzSnack on Twitter and the author of THIS funny-as-hell blog) and I got into one of our fantasy wars.

If you haven’t seen them before they kinda go a little bit like this.

Well this recent battle was about how awful we thought the other person would be as a contestant on The Bachelor.

That led to an email from Stacey to me which said, “I’m filling out the official Bachelor submission questionnaire for your right now.”

I responded, “If you do, I’ll post it as my first guest blog ever.”

And well…here it is.

I hope you laugh as much as my gap-toothed dumb-ass did.

_________________________________________________________

A Guest Blog Post By Stacey "Lady of the House"

www.IEatMyKidzSnacks.com

After a recent “I fantasize” tweet battle with my good friend, WhyIsDaddyCrying I decided to see what would happen if he wasn’t a happily married father of two and actually applied to be the next Bachelor.

THE BACHELOR QUESTIONNAIRE

Name: Don’t you know who I am? I’m @whyisdaddycryin on Twitter.

How did you hear about our search? Are you kidding? Ever since I was a boy I’ve dreamed of being surrounded by hot chicks with daddy issues desperate to hang out in a hot tub with me and compete for a crack at ALL this:

Occupation:  I’m a vegetarian and a blogger. Plus I started a movement called “Pants Optional Friday” where I advocate no one wears pants on Fridays. Frankly, this would work to my advantage at those Rose Ceremonies. Maybe change my line to, “Ladies, will you accept my balls?”

Annual salary: Let’s just say, I like a nice Sizzler salad bar once a quarter and even though I’m a vegetarian, I roll my own sushi.

What is your highest level of education?  Yes.

Are you a legal resident of the United States? Yup, unless there’s a place where hookers & weed are legal. What? Where? I’d like to change my answer.

Where did you grow up? I grew up in North (hick) North Carol (hick) North Carolina. Sorry, I have a case of the hickups.

*No offense to anyone from North Carolina. I just like to get daddy’s goat.  Since he probably fucked it while growing up in North Carolina.

Have you ever been arrested, charged or convicted of a crime of any type? Does an inmate shit in his cell? There may have been one time. What? I read dolphins love human contact.

Have you ever had a temporary restraining order issued against you? Please give details and dates: Yes, but it was terminated when Mr. Coleman passed away.

Have you ever been a performer, participant or contestant on television, radio or in film? Does really amateur porn count?

Do you drink alcoholic beverages? Yes, yes I do. Let me take you through what a “one on one date” would look like. First I’d have a cocktail while putting on my makeup getting ready to go out.

Next I’d do 5 or 6 shots of Jaeger in the limo all the while trying to fit my massive head out the top so I could yell “I’m The Motha Fuckin’ Bachelor bitches.” I’d spend the next several hours alternating between wine and Maker’s Mark and Sprite.

While eating annoying things like hummus and sprouts I’d talk incessantly about the weather and high cost of oil. I’d end the night by stroking my date’s hair, fumbling with her bra and vomiting into the hot tub. The same applies for a “group date” with the addition of trying to milk each girl like she was a dairy cow.

** This was the part of the application where they asked for age, height, weight, etc. I felt those questions were inconsequential compared to what I feel ladies need to know if they choose to use the overnight date card with WhyIsDaddyCrying.

Degree of halitosis: Somewhere between baby diaper and rotting corpse.

Diameter of space between teeth:

Degree of erectile dysfunction:  Moderate unless I’m watching “Meerkat Manor” then I’m fine.

How many days in between your period: N/A. But every 28 days I cry into a Snuggie because I feel unappreciated & bloated.

Brain Size: A full 4 ¼ inches. Yeah baby.

Thickness of back hair: Let’s just say there better be at least 3 pool skimmers.

Please describe your ideal mate in terms of physical attraction & in terms of personality attraction.  She’s got to have boobs, a butt and a face. Oh and hands and a vagina. She has to laugh at all my jokes and be smart and stuff. This is hard. No seriously it is. I’m like a pre-pubescent boy when I talk about boobs. Did I mention boobs?

How many serious relationships have you been in? 6

What happened to end those relationships? Came out as a lesbian, moved to Dikshit, India, attempted murder (her on me), rehab, eaten by a dingo and again, lesbianism.

What are your hobbies? I drink a shit-ton of beer, I love music, and I pleasure myself to pictures of Bea Arthur run. I also take zumba.

What is the unique talent of which you are most proud? I can fart the alphabet. I mean shart. I can shart the alphabet.

List the 3 adjectives that best describe you: Smoove, Phat and Foine.

Do you have any tattoos? If yes, what are they? And where are they located on your body? Yes.

Have you ever been married? Look a helicopter!

If yes, how many times? No, seriously isn’t it a prerequisite to arrive in a helicopter at least 3 times on “The Bachelor?” I assume you provide Depends Undergarments for men who have problems with high altitude and vibration?

Have you ever been divorced? Not yet but please, please don’t show this application to anyone who claims to be “married to me.”

Do you have any children? How is this relevant to me getting drunk and cliff diving with scantily clad women?

What accomplishment are you most proud of?  Ugh. Shit. FINE! MY FAMILY. I am most proud of my beautiful wife and children.

Why would you be a great husband? Because, well…………read my blog.

Why are you America’s Most Eligible Bachelor? I’m not.

*In the end WhyIsDaddyCrying would realize no amount of free tail is worth giving up the amazing family he allows all of us to see glimpses of on his blog.

**Also you have to submit a picture and video. We all know after seeing that “gap toothed bastard” all we’d hear is women openly weeping and limo tires screeching.

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!



Top 10 Things That Will Be Heard During Our 14-Hour Car Ride South

Tomorrow at 5 a.m. our lovely, adoring, sweet little family will sleepily pile into the over-stuffed car and head south from Chicago to North Carolina for Christmas.

Presents will be packed amongst suite cases, games, and high hopes that Santa will make this THE most bestest Christmas EVER!

Me? I’ll be in the driver seat clutching a large cup of joe looking at the open road thinking “bring it bitch! Let’s do this.” And, I’ll have full intent of making the trip in no less than 14 hours.

Come hell or high water, this car will drive into the in-laws’ driveway by 7 p.m.

Want to make a bet? No?

Well, here’s something you can bet on!

The Top 10 Things That Will Be Heard During Our 14-Hour Car Ride South

1) Grayson: “Macy, stop looking at me. Stop. STOP!!!! Mommy…Macy’s looking at me!!! Can we leave her at the next McDonalds we pass?

2) Macy: “Ewwwww….what’s that smell? Eww…skunk.”

Wife: “No dear…it’s your father.”

3) Me: “So, I says to the guy… ‘that’s what she said.’ Hahahahahahaha”

Wife: “honey, I think you’ve had enough coffee for now, mmmkay?”

4) Grayson: “Mommy can you hear this bell ring? If you can it means you ‘Believe’ in Santa.

Wife: “Yes, yes I can.”

Grayson: “Daddy, can you? Daddy? DADDY!!?”

Me: “I believe in the fact that Indiana is the worst state to ever drive the fu..”

Wife: “STOP! No cursing sweetie. No cursing.”

5) Grayson: “Daddy, is it true that Justin Bieber is a horrible singer and just a pawn of a major music corporation to sell a well packaged, innocent looking young man singing over-produced music to the mass general public in an effort to get rich quick?”

Me: “I love you Grayson. I really really love you.”

6) Wife: “HONEY!!! WATCH THE ROAD!!!  You can Tweet later!!”

7) Grayson: “Daddy I have to go boom boom!”

Five minutes after we stopped for Grayson to go boom boom:

Macy: “Daddy, I have to go boom boom.”

8) Macy: “Mommy, where do babies come from?”

Grayson: “Yeah, good question. Where do they come from?”

Me: “Wow…that IS a good question. Honey, where do babies come from?”

9) Wife: “Oh look, a town named Grayson! Let’s stop!”

Grayson: “Really?!!! Cool, yeah let’s stop!!”

Me: “Next person that speaks dies. It’s that simple. Words come out of your mouth and you stop living. Less speaky, more sleepy!!”

10) Grayson: “Daddy? Where is mommy?”

Me: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Grayson: “She’s not in the car daddy. I just woke up and she’s not in the car. Where is she?”

Me: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It should really be a fun trip! Happy Holidays readers!



Returning the Favor

Yeah, I just got back from a dude weekend. It’s true.

I hopped a flight to North Carolina leaving my sweet, innocent wife alone for three days with a five and seven-year-old, while I hung out with two old-school college buddies at a lake-front log cabin.

We drank beer and good wine without a care in the world, while the wife frantically sucked back leftovers from the kids’ plates, forgot where she put her wine glass, and was woken up throughout the night by the kids during thunderstorms.

I won’t lie…there was guilt. I’d call and hear the exasperation in her voice.

She’d say: “That’s awesome you guys did so well at the 10k trail race.”

What I’d hear is: “Run it again only this time fall off a cliff you dead-beat dad!”

She’d say: “That sounds like you had a really cool day!”

What I’d hear is: “I’m putting eye drops in all your drinks for the rest of the week when you get back, punk-ass!”

I’ll definitely spend the next few weeks trying to make it up to her in little ways. Girls’ night out, a night alone without kids or me, or a night of letting her watch me try on various Speedo bathing suits.

I think back to how far we’ve come as men. Back in the day the men-folk would spend their weekends golfing, playing poker, and shooting the shit in their garages with other neighborhood dudes. The wives would shuttle the kids to the pool or their parent’s house to make sure the husband was relaxed on his two days off from work.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been to parties these days where the stay-at-home moms declare to the men “kids are yours, we’ll be in the house relaxing,” and then disappear never to be seen again.

For so many reasons I’m OK with that. I think most guys are OK with that. Because today it’s understood that whether a woman is a stay-at-home mom, or successful executive – they’re working and deserve down-time too.

Let’s look at stay-at-home parents in comparison to those working and you’ll see my point!

Stay at Home Parents                                                        Work

Mind-numbing requests from uneducated,

immature humans daily                                                                     X

Continuously fighting to have peace while you eat                X

Endlessly plotting against the person that got you

into this position                                                                                  X

Faking optimum productivity & interest when

others are watching                                                                             X

Constantly motivated to slam your head against a wall         X

I think you see what I mean.

So yeah, I’m grateful my wife threw herself on the tracks for three days so I could dude-it-up. I’m thankful more than she knows. And that’s why I’ll have no problem at all making damn sure I return the favor.

And, it’s in everyone’s best interest that I do it quickly.