One Year And Counting!

I’m still blown away by the fact that today is my blog’s first birthday.

To you…well, you’re probably twirling your finger in the air and rolling your eyes. At least my wife is.

Regardless, for me it’s a big deal.

I started this space of my ramblings in an effort to get my fingers pounding on the keyboard some more and to tap back into one of my absolute loves…..writing.

Pairing that up with my other devoted love – my family – seemed a win/win.

The only thing left was a good name. So, I did what any natural artist does and sucked back a few too many beers and chased them down with glasses of wine and walla!!!! The name Why Is Daddy Crying? was born.

Then I just sat back, lived my life and let the rest flow through the finger tips in the hopes just maybe a few of you kids would care enough to read.

The response I’ve gotten has been overwhelming at best. My readership is unreal to me. The comments I get make my day. The emails I randomly get from strangers humbles me. And the explosion of my Twitter and Facebook followers is daunting.

THANKS! Thanks for reading, making me laugh, sharing your stories, and for revealing the fact that it truly does take a village to raise a child. Even if that child is me.

But an anniversary wouldn’t be a true anniversary if I didn’t reflect. So…here are my top 10 favorite blog posts of mine over the past year. I really hope you’ll take a couple minutes and read and pass along to others who might enjoy them.

My top 10 favorite blog posts over the past year:

1) Because of this post alone, I’m notorious for hating the damn Snuggie. And I followed it up with this lovely post about a Snuggie family gone wrong.

2) The BP oil spill got me angry, but also had me wondering if I could offer any help. So, I lent a hand by creating this list of the top 10 things BP should shove up its leaky oil pipe.

3) Sometimes I like to give some handy advice. So, I created a commercial much like the drug commercials on TV so that I could inform parents how they know they’re experiencing children.

4) I would totally and utterly suck as a terrorist and here are the reasons why. This one’s complete with a horrifying picture.

5) I have had many discussions with wife over the past year. On this particular day we discuss pointy bras.

6) I’ve gotten to meet, interact with, and fight with some of the greatest people. Take in this epic online one-liner battle with Twitter's @ieatmykidzsnack:

7) One of the most humbling moments of my writing days was when JC Little of Little Animation reached out and did this animated short based on my blog. Check it out!

8) Here’s a quick jaunt down memory lane as I remember the days I’ve spent with my weiner.

9) And then for a little bit I got serious. This post marks the beginnings of one of the lowest points in my life where I lost my job.

10) And last, here’s a post where I show some family love to my brother by revealing how much I love that he affectionately calls his children “fuck trophies.”

I’m missing oh so much more, but these are some of my favorites.

Thanks for the ride so far. I hope everyone keeps reading and sharing the love!



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!”

Oh How I Dread "The Talk"

This past weekend I’ve been doing the pool hardcore-style.

School starts Wednesday for the little bastards so I figured I’d try to get into the wet-stuff as much as I possibly could. The pool that is...

As I slide my white-assed self into the pool waters and started tossing the little nippers around I quickly noticed…holy shit, there’s a lot of teenagers around here. And like being thrown into a warp-speed, throw-your-head-back kinda light-year geeky TV-effect I was projected to 2020 - my daughter’s 15, wearing a bikini, at the pool and I’m in the corner clutching a beer crying while thinking, “I really really need to have ‘The Talk’ with her.”

I’m scared shitless of “The Talk.”

I’ll never forget my dad giving us “The Talk.” I was 12 (I think), which would have made my brother 14.

My dad was all liquored-up and probably felt it was time for my brother to hear about the birds and the bees so shit, why not the younger brother too?!

Long story short, for the next year or so, I was confident sex was when a man lays next to his wife, places his penis inside her, then they both go to sleep. That’s right…with the penis still inside her.

And I remember I had two HUGE questions.

1) What happens if the dude has to go pee in the middle of the night?

2) What the hell does a jack-o-lantern have anything to do with sex?

To this day when someone says jack-o-lantern I suddenly become 12 again and hear my dad say, “and then the man jack-o-lanterns into her.”

A part of me feels like when it’s time for “The Talk” I should just find a picture of a penis, hold it up in front of the kids and wait two minutes till everything in the room feels really awkward.

Then I’ll turn to the girl and say, “this is a penis. Boys have the penis. If a boy shows you his penis, I’ll kill him. If a boy talks about his penis to you, I’ll kill him. If you touch a penis, I’ll kill you and him. There is no need for you to see, touch, talk about, experience, or go near the penis until you graduate college.”

Then I’ll turn to the boy and say, “if your sister sees, touches or comes near a penis, I’ll kill you. If you see or hear-of anyone coming near your sister, thinking of your sister, or dreaming of your sister with their penis, tell me and I’ll kill them.”

Then, I’ll buy them both some new music, hug them, and send them on their way.

OK, I’m exaggerating…but I’m also kind of not.

I’m thankful to have plenty of time to plot my war-plan to protect my kids’ innocence as best I can, while making sure I arm them with enough knowledge so that when they do fuck up, it’s not life altering.

In the meantime, I’m just going to enjoy tossing them around in the pool and watch them fight with all their might to come right back to my open arms.