The Panicked Cry Of Our Children

“Daddy!!!!!?!!!?!”

“Mommy!!!!?!!!?!”

At least five, six, eighteen times a day we hear this.

It’s the panicked call from our children freaked out over the fact they currently cannot hear or see us.

So, naturally in their minds, the wife and I have grabbed the car keys, robbed a bank of a few C-notes and headed to the bar to suck-back a few ice-cold-coke-colas whilst leaving our beloved-children to wallow in an empty house.

Meanwhile, in reality, we’re no less than 30 feet away cooking their dinner, washing their clothes, or cleaning up their mess.

Just last night I walked upstairs to pee and noticed the hallway light, both their room lights, and our room light was on.

It was enticing enough to walk outside and give a wave to the Space Station to at least give me comfort enough that the $500 electric bill coming up was spent in becoming an astronaut’s BFF.

We have no idea what created this panic in our children to make them freak the hell out if they don’t hear us creak the wood floors every four minutes. But it’s out of control.

Again, last night I stood in the hallway and proclaimed, “children of my seed listen to my words!!! I shall never leave you alone in the house. The Wife and I shall never depart you un-attended, fending on your own and proclaiming you fit to handle the world.”

Ten minutes later as I was busy explaining to my wife that the “Man vs. Wild” dude was a total fucking wuss, the kids screamed, “Mommy!!!!!?!!!! Daddy???!!!!!!!” while a cricket landed two feet from me and caused me to jump on a table top and throw pillows.

The solution? I have no clue. Maybe do what my mom did back in the early 80s when she accidentally left my brother in a shopping cart at the grocery? Some sort of shock therapy like that?

Now that I think of it, that won’t work. To this date whenever my brother sees or touches a shopping card he pees himself and screams for his mommy.

No, we’ll just continue to hope they outgrow it and in the meantime chalk it up to another insanity I can hold over their heads until they’re parents.

Then, I’ll just laugh and say, “I’ll take some more wine please!”

And Now the News, 7-Year-Old Style

The wifey and I make the comment all the time, “the biggest issues in the kids’ lives seem so trivial.”

We think back to our childhood and immediately remember how we believed our lives would end if we didn’t get those blue bicycle wheels. Or those red Converse. Or if Sandy didn’t check that “yes” box on the note I passed to her.

The result of this pondering? What if my kids had a 24-hour, live CNN-style news channel.

I’m assuming it would go a lot like this:

Music: Da da da da, duuuuuuu da da da……

“And now, your anchor, Grayson:”

Grayson: Good evening and welcome to, My Life Is Freakin’ Hard!

Topping tonight is elementary school news. Today, Timothy threw up in front of Sarah. Sarah immediately threw up on Jamal and Fred stepped in it three minutes later.

Art class is canceled this week and we’ll be spending that time reading books with Ms. Woodsworth who smells like daddy when he comes home from the bar.

At lunch, Bobby traded Shay chips for her fruit bar, but sources say Kyle saw Bobby lick some of the chips before the trade was complete.

Our gym teacher Mr. Tobockle didn’t flush the toilet after making a number 2 today, and apparently half the gym class saw it. Mr. Tobockle offered no comment regarding the incident.

This just in, Macy is in her lunch room with a live report. Let’s go to Macy.

Macy what’s the situation there.

Macy: Well Grayson it’s nothing shy of absolute horror. Susie just tried to open her juice box and it exploded all over her. While teachers were trying to calm her, Walker got up and fed our classroom turtle a Twix. Brandon has asked to go to the bathroom a record 13 times and we’ve only been in pre-school 86 minutes so far today. Grayson…we’re all hoping it doesn’t get any worse than this.

Back to you.

Grayson: Horrible…just horrible.

In home news, I peed myself just a tiny bit earlier this morning because daddy was pooping while I was jumping up and down outside the bathroom door begging daddy to please let me pee. I later changed into Spiderman underwear.

An outbreak of parents asking children to do unheard things such as cleaning their messes, making their beds, and brushing their teeth has taken over the mid-west. Officials suggest that children whine excessively, throw things, and make life unnecessarily hard for their parents until the outbreak subsides.

After the break, an exclusive interview with Jed, the seven-year-old boy in my class who eats his own boogers and never whips after he poops.

Daddy, I Have to Pee

It’s the dreaded words I can’t stand to hear my daughter say…. “Daddy, I need to go pee pee.”

In my mind I immediately turn to a 3-year-old, throw myself to the ground, start kicking and slamming my fists, crying and screaming “I don’t wanna!!!!” But in reality, I suck it up, pack-up whatever the hell is around me, tell my son “come on dude, you might as well go, too,” then head to the nearest shit factory.

As a quick side note, my precious, darling little angel was born with the magical gift of needing to pee at the worst possible times – especially when it’s just me and the kids. As soon as food is served at a restaurant..she has to pee. Movie just started and we have all our popcorn, drinks, etc….she has to pee. Just climbed aboard the Metra to head into the city…yep, she’s gotta pee.

I’m fine with the boy. Once I taught him to use his damn zipper so his pants wouldn’t land in a heap around his ankles and in a massive pool of piss in front of the urinal – we were good to go. The daughter…well, she has to sit where dudes poo, pee, puke, and whatever other P-words you can think of.

I usually kick open the bathroom door while holding coats, popcorn, food, camera, and all the other kid accoutrements you can think of, and immediately announce, “all right…nobody touch anything but yourself. OK?!!!!” Which is then followed by a simultaneous “yes daddy.”

The boy heads off in his own direction. I then begin a frantic search for the cleanest shitter for my princess to place her precious bum on while also keeping an eye on her to make sure she really isn’t touching anything. I find one with only a dribble of pee on it. Score! Ripping toilet paper out like a mad man on a mission, I clean up after some douche who’s too lazy to use his foot to lift the lid. I stand back and admire the perfect little soft toilet paper seat and announce, “your majesty?! Your throne is ready.”

As she sits sideways on the seat – hands in her lap – I’m glancing around to check on the boy who’s already washing his hands. Score again! I hand over a wad of toilet paper, she gets dress, I kick the handle to flush it, we wash our hands, and we’re done!

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to throw a diaper on the girl before taking her out by-myself. I’ll never do it though – mostly because I’m confident someone would notice, call TMZ and Parenting Magazine, and next thing I know I’ll be on Oprah crying and telling the world what a miserable wretch I am because I hate taking my daughter into the men’s room to piss. Instead…I’ll keep cleaning up after sick fucks so my daughter can keep her kidneys healthy. And one day, hopefully she’ll return the favor by choosing to continue lifting me to the toilet rather than putting me in an adult diaper.

I Have to Pee Standing Up, Again?!

All my life I had been peeing standing up.

As a wee lad I'd wake early, stumble to the potty with my tiny morning wood and Underoos and pee all over the toilet. In high school I'd pee standing up in the ratty men's room while getting as close as I could to the urinal so no one could check out my junk. In college I'd pee standing up....well pretty much anywhere, stupidly grinning and pointing at my junk.

Then our boy was born. The bathroom was right next to his bedroom and every time I'd pee standing up the noise would wake him up. Awake baby + nighttime = suicide material. So I started peeing sitting down. And you know what? It's fucking nice!

I mean – the only time I do it is in the middle of the night and the only reason is because it’s like I’m peeing and sleeping at the same time. I can just lean my oversized watermelon head on my fist and trot-off right back to La La Land.

But recently, I’ve fallen victim to the woes you women-folk have to deal with. Remember when I created the mind-numbing image of me as a boy with a tiny morning boner peeing all over the toilet….yeah – I have a 6-year-old who’s currently enjoying that sprinkler action. So in the middle of the night when I settle in for a relaxing unmanly sleep/pee – I sit in his piss.

So now…I’m forced to give-up a secret enjoyment of life. And that’s not cool. I’m pissed about it (that pun was not intentional).

I will forever hold it against that kid and look forward to the pay back – me, 90 years old, laying on my back as he changes my wet adult diaper.