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!!



The Wife, Anderson Cooper & Egypt

To say the wife loves Anderson Cooper is to say that I think Jennifer Aniston ranks as “eh” on a scale of “I just threw up in my mouth” to “I’d murder someone just to have her look at me!”

I mean, I can see her thinking he’s good looking… what with the perfect hair, skin, and what-not.

Just the other day a friend revealed to her that he’s gay. Her response, “that’s cool. I’d still be there for him.”

My response, “hang in there kiddo, you never know. You could lay the magic touch that turns him straight. But if you do…deal is…the dog, hamster, cat, and fish go with you!!”

Regardless, she’s a fan.

So much so that my dear friend @ieatmykidzsnack on Twitter pulled some heroic strings and got a personalized, signed autographed picture of Mr. Cooper as a Christmas present to the wife.

But I guess the part I love the most is that she doesn’t obsessively watch thousands of hours of his broadcast. Which, in my phenomenal inspector/FBI training abilities, tells me she’s just in it for the looks.

So, apparently Egypt has been kicking the living shit out of Anderson Cooper lately.

This past Wednesday pro-Egyptian government campers threw 10 fist blows at my man’s head. Yesterday, they stepped it up a notch and went after him in his “news van.”

As a side note…if he was in a Hummer…I would have even joined the group trying to attack him. But that’s a whole other blog post.

Knowing my wife tends to lean significantly towards the “I don’t read the news too much but love me some Hoarders episodes,” I filled her in on her boyfriend’s Egyptian experiences by treating it as though I was having to tell her the cat is dead.

I walked down to her basement work-from-home office, embraced her to the point to where she was in pain and wanted me to “just go away!!!”

I said, “Shnookums (cause she loves it when I call her that) I need you to sit down for a sec. I…..I have to tell you something.”

Wife: “Why are you drinking a beer at 9:18 a.m.?”

Me: “Because I’ve been traumatized on your behalf and needed something to help me get through this.”

Wife: “Oh my god what is it?”

Me: “Anderson Cooper got his ass kicked in Egypt…twice.”

Wife: “Is he alive? Is he hurt?”

Me: “He’s still reporting and I can’t see a damn scratch on that guy…I seriously think he’s a robot!!”

Wife: “Oh thank God.”

Me: “You mean Oh thank baby Jesus?”

Wife: “Maybe you should think about visiting Egypt.”

She clearly took it well.

Later that night I swear I walked in on her talking to her signed Anderson Cooper picture. But being the delightful husband I am, I just gave her a knowingly smile, patted her on the head (cause she loves that) and walked out of the room to give her more time with her love.



A Pictorial Look Back

I put this picture on Twitter the other day of the girl rocking out like it’s 1983, and it got me thinking.

I should take a walk back in time through pictures I’ve tossed on Twitter over the past year. I enjoy whipping-out the ole phone camera from time to time in the hopes I’ll catch an unforgettable moment, and toss it on TwitPic.

So, I did just that…I dug through the vaults and now I give you, an assemblage of pictures I’ve snapped and thrown on Twitpic over the past 365 days, complete with commentary:

I volunteer every Monday in my daughter’s kindergarten class. Her “boyfriend” always spends those days drawing thought-provoking pictures of me such as this. His pictures make me cry at night….

Hell yes I played Santa for a friends’ family holiday party!

One of many reasons I can’t wait until the summer. Looong bike rides with the boy along the river.

Sometimes you just have to step outside the box when it comes to requesting a little nookie-time with the wifey.

Unloading chess-jedi-mindtrick-knowledge on the boy…just incase chess becomes a multi-billion-dollar-a-year industry.

And if chess doesn’t work, I’m falling back on roller-derby with my bad-ass daughter!!! Bring daddy the paycheck!!!

Yes, it’s true. Jesus was a tow-truck driver before he became…well..Jesus. I still regret not buying this damn painting from the Antique store.

One of many awesome notes the boy and I pass back and forth every day through his lunch box.

Fuck yeah Pink Ducky got praised by random Spider-dudes in downtown Chicago.

Last but not least, the absolute love of my life on her 36^th birthday.

A Letter On Bondage To My Son's Future Wife

Dear Grayson’s Future Wife:

I’d like to start this rambling batch of mess off with a big “I’m sorry!!”

Actually, I don’t really know why I’m apologizing. Your husband’s the one that really screwed it all up for you!

Let me start from the beginning.

It was a Fall day.

Grayson’s mother-dearest was working from home and it was a holiday which means your fella and his sister, were home taking full advantage of unsupervised hell-raising.

Much quietness fell upon the house.

This was followed by loud banging, crashing….and yes, crying.

Your man’s mom ran down the stairs to find her daughter wrapped in clear masking tape around her ankles, wrists, and waist.

Words flew. An understanding was reached. In short – no more bondage activities were to “EVER” take place again.

An hour passes and again the wife questions the quietness of the house.

Scared out of her mind to go in search of her offspring, she continues to work with a keen-ear to the sky.

Moments later there comes a predicted slam to a wall, followed by the horrific screaming of the boy.

Leaping from her chair she runs towards the sounds of death only to find your dear husband bound by his ankles and wrists with masking tape. His head was resting uncomfortably against the wall.

“I tried to leap the first step mom but I missed and my head slammed into the wall,” was what the dear boy muttered to the wife.

Ten minutes later she managed to finish un-wrapping your husband from his sadistic bondage get-up before calling me.

I immediately suggested she take him to the ER just to make damn sure his claimed “fuzzy eye-sight and muffled hearing” were just an effort to instigate the wrath of our parenthood punishment on the daughter for wrapping the boy up.

After sitting in the ER for an hour your husband’s mother was met with a doctor laughing his ass off as he read the chart detailing why his next “patient” was sitting before him still chaffed from where the tape was ripped off his skin.

The day ended with Grayson properly scared out of his mind and assuring us repeatedly that he’d “never tie anyone up again for the rest of his life!”

So this is why I write to you today.

This is why your dear husband has not and will probably never come home with silk wrist and ankle ties from your favorite naughty store.

This is why your bed posts will remain unscathed from crazy feel-good games.

But hey, he does enjoy getting tickled, warm chocolate milk, and announcing to the entire room when he’s gotta go “boom boom.” So, there’s that!

Better luck in your next lifetime.

Love,

Grayson’s Dad



I Got Blocked!

Writer’s block from hell has set in.

The past two weeks I’ve been all out of sorts. I’ve walked into walls, fed the kids rocks, and spent hours chasing the dog around the backyard screaming “come here piggy piggy.”

I guess it’s not technically writer’s block because I’ve been writing.

I write a lot for work. I wrote (and drew) a little something something for JC Little and her blog that should be posted soon! Stay tuned!

But as far as here. Well….it’s been sporadic at best.

So, I’m going to just free write about a few blog ideas I’ve been toying with, post it and move on hoping it solves my problem.

At first I was going to write something about politics because…well because you better have voted today! Except you people…please don’t vote today.

I was going to continue the post I’d done a week or so ago about my kids running campaign ads against each other and write about them at polling stations telling voters as they walked by that the other candidate pees on Dora’s map and at night tells their most inner secrets to a stuffed SpongeBob doll.

But then I was all, “that’s stupid. You can’t recycle old posts like that.”

Then I thought about writing a post about how my wife just got prescription glasses.

She’s had headaches for a longtime and recently it dawned on her that, “holy shit. I think on account of me not see’n too good (she’s from the south) I reckon I might need me some spectacles.”

Originally I thought she said “testicles” and promptly ripped my clothes off, tackled her, and was seconds away from “the sex” when the pepper spray hit me.

So, she got her eyeballs checked, a prescription written, and yesterday, picked-up her new eyewear.

Then, as I was sitting at my computer working she walked by sporting her new glasses. BUT!!! Not JUST her new eyeglasses, but also her tight-fitting spandex running gear.

*Side Note: I have a huge….HUGE glasses fetish. I have no clue where it stems from. Maybe I had a super sexy elementary school teacher that sent me down this road, but regardless… glasses do it for me.

*Side Note’s over…back to the stupid.

My foot started thumping like a happy puppy’s tail, my eyes bulged from their sockets and immediately my wife reached over, tapped my nose hard and said, “NO!!!! DOWN BOY!!!! NO!!”

But then I was all, “you can’t write about that…it’s just too revealing and women sporting glasses will avoid the ever-living hell out of you!”

Finally I contemplated the fact that our stupid damn new dog, who I’ve affectionately named “That Furry Fuck I Didn’t Want Yet My Kids And Wife Talked Me Into But That Now The Wife’s Even Overwhelmed By Even Though It’s Always Left To Me To Take Care Of Him Dog,” has an obsession with peeing on our damn kitchen carpet.

He’s awesome everywhere else throughout the house. But for some reason, that red carpet is his pee-bitch.

But then I was all, “who cares? Everyone’s dog pees in the house at some point and who wants to read about your damn pets?”

So…that’s how my brain’s operated over the past two weeks. Yet, I’ve blogged and yet, I blog today.

So, with that, I make my final plee to the blogging lords and ask them to free the brain!!!!

Guess we’ll see what their verdict is over the coming days! Hang in there reader kids, I promise it’ll all come back!!