The Boy Shaves His Head To Raise Money For Cancer Research

This past Saturday, my boy walked up to an empty chair surrounded by gawkers and one giddy hairdresser donning nothing but a pair of sheers, and sat down.

Three minutes later he sat bald, surrounded by his beautiful red hair mixed with a sea of brown, blonde, and black hair.

My son raised $1,350 for St. Baldrick’s Foundation – one of the leading children’s cancer research organizations in the world.

His fundraising promise?

That he would sit amongst thousands of other kids and adults around the country on Saturday and have his head shaved to pay respect for the millions who currently struggle, who have lost, and who have won the battle against cancer.

His involvement in this was all his idea and of course we were overwhelmingly supportive.

Thank you to all who donated money.

Some were family, some were friends, some were people on Twitter I’ve never met and only know by the “@” in front of their names.

But we’re all unfortunately bonded by the global battle that is fighting cancer.

And we thank you.

And now…the pics and photos!!!

So, here we have a brave little stud-muffin just one hour before he was to get scalped. When I took this photo eight teenage girls with hair well past their shoulders were getting completely shaved.

And now…the video of the boy going under the sheers…

Grayson's Head Shave for St. Baldrick's To Support Children's Cancer Research from WhyIsDaddyCrying on Vimeo.

Thanks again to everyone!

What Pisses Me Off?!

Now that Thanksgiving is over, we can stop all this happy-dappy crap and get back down to brass tax—the things that piss me off. I did spend yesterday thinking about the so many many things I’m fortunate to have going right in my life. I know life could be significantly worse than it is now, and that for many out there, it is. But this is my life, and right now – I’m gonna get negative, cause I can.

There’s quite a few things that piss me off – some are long-term issues I have buried deep in my psychotic mind. Others are new and deserve just as much attention. So let’s get this thing started:

1) Screw you The Swine!! In my mind there’s three different types of flu. There’s the garden variety “flu” which everyone freaked out about back in the day (1 year ago), but now it’s seen as, “oh, you’ve only got the flu? Pshaw….dude, grow some balls, that’s nothing. Get back to work.” Then there’s “swine flu,” which will knock you out and is what my son is currently battling. It’s rough, but you can beat it. Then there’s “The Swine.” This bastard will take you to your knees, make you its bitch, tell you it loves you, then go bang your wife. My daughter had this last weekend and was hospitalized.

2) Kiss my ass Death! Yeah, I said it. Take your stupid black cape and go jump off a cliff. Seriously – you take one more of our family members and I’ll kill you while I…..oh wait….that doesn’t really make sense….

3) Last chance cat!! Jasper, our black cat pisses me the hell off. Why? Because he’s obsessed with knocking over cups and glasses. We cannot leave a cup or glass sitting alone or he will come over and knock it the hell off the table. It’s become common place to walk into a room to find a massive puddle or glass everywhere. Next time – Jasper – and I shave you and take you to Pet Smart so all the other animals can laugh at you.

4) The career decision I’m forced to make. Enough said on that.

5) Christmas makes me nuts! The materialistic nightmare that is now Christmas makes me wanna go postal on Santa’s North Pole sweat-shop. Even in an economy where we’re all counting pennies, the pressure to get out there and spend way more than you have is disgusting. If it weren’t for my kids, I’d boycott it all together and never….wait, hold on. “What’s that honey? No…no I didn’t say… But you know how I feel and… OK…OK! Just please don’t threaten to throw away the nookie jar again!” Ummm…. I’m I apparently love Christmas and enjoy buying gifts for the wifey.

6) What is it with Quitters? No, not people who quit….but “Quitters.” You know, that one sock in the pair that’s magically lost its elasticity so it’s all big at the top and won’t stay up and forces you to have to throw away a damn good pair of socks with no holes in them. Yeah – I’ve lost two pairs of socks in a week and I don’t even have kankles.

7) Cancer can suck it! Seriously…why can’t you only attack mass murderers, idiotic politicians, or Balloon-Boy’s father….OK, I took it a bit too far there, but you get my drift. The wrong people seem to always be the target and for that my friend….I hope cancer gets cancer.

8) And last, but certainly not least….yeah, you guessed it – Snuggies. You Smurf colored, backwards robe looking, piece of shit. I mean, the fleece it’s made from is not even good quality fleece. You make it impossible to sexually attack my wifey. You make sexy women look like turd smugglers. Your commercials make me want to obsessively stalk kids’ football games to find that couple in the stands wearing you so I can kick the ever-loving shit out of them in a parking lot. You’re stupid. You’re a washed up, worn out, piece of cloth that couldn’t  hack it in the bathrobe world, so you went rogue, got popular for a short period of time, and will end up a phenomenon that everyone laughs at three years from now. Oh wait…am I still talking about the Snuggie or Palin?

4 Days as a Single Dad

On Friday the wifey took off to N.C. to be with her cousin who’s on the losing side of a vicious battle with cancer. My heart broke as I watched her walk out the door, knowing that what she was about to experience would be something she’d never forget.

As I slowly turned around, fighting the tears, I was met with two kids standing side-by-side, the son holding a car, the daughter holding her blanket. They gave me a look that clearly said, “all right old man…we can do this one of two ways. The hard way, or the easy way…you chose.”

I chose the easy way and quickly made-up a massive batch of chocolate chip cookies….or what I like to call, a pan of bribery.

Saturday I woke up to my son sitting next to me on the bed, looking at my tattoo on my arm and saying, “I’m gonna tell your mommy you have a tattoo.”

I gave them the run of the place Saturday. And they fucking destroyed it. Paints, stuff animals, clothes, blocks, games, Legos, food, spilled milk, TV, and minor amounts of blood. I had given them a total kid day in the house and they took full advantage.

Sunday I woke up to my son sitting next to me on the bed saying, “Daddy, while I was peeing Jasper’s (our cat) tail went through my pee and now he’s laying on your bed.”

We spent Sunday handing out daddy’s hard earned cash. We saw Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, ate Baja Fresh, and spent a few hours at a park swinging, playing soccer and basketball, climbing, and looking at moms…..uh, I mean playing on the jungle gym. They came home dirty and tired.

The wifey comes back Tuesday night and I’m pretty sure by then I’ll be bound, shoved in a closet, and the house will be set on fire.

I love that my wife can bolt whenever she wants and the kids and I just roll into daddy mode. I love that they get my humor, tackle me when I least expect it, tell me secrets, and wake me up spewing awesomeness from their minds. I love that they love me. And I hate that I can’t look back and remember similar experiences from when I was growing up with my dad.

This morning I dropped my son off at school, walked across the street and dropped my daughter off at her school. As her class started walking down the hall, she jumped out of line, ran up to me, hugged my legs, then threw her face towards the sky, closed her eyes and puckered.

 That’s what it’s all about….

 

Death, Lesson, Inspiration, Timing…..Livestrong

Anyone who read my earlier post about putting a sex magazines and blow-up dolls under my pillow could have seen it coming, right? Either I post a follow-up about how I can’t even walk to the train anymore cause I’m so freakin’ over-sexed….or….I write about death – the death of an innocent,  young, frugal, vigilant, Democratic, healthcare reform advocate, fish. A young, brilliant-colored little guy named – Swimmy.

Quick flashback for those too lazy to read older posts. Friend tells story of how her son puts shark tooth under pillow, wakes up to can of tuna. My wife tries to one-up her. Son puts shark tooth under pillow wakes up to fish in fish bowl. Daughter disappointed she didn’t do the same so puts shark tooth under her pillow that night. Wakes up to fish next morning.

There…so, we get back from a relaxing, long day at a folk music festival – friends are about to come over – wife walks up to me and says,

“Swimmy is dead.”

I say, “fuckin’ who?”

“Swimmy”

“You wanna have sex now when friends are about to come over?”

“Jackass!!! – Your daughter’s fish – Swimmy – is fucking dead!!”

Me – “oh…..shit….that sucks….”

Swimmy was a good kid. I mean – he really did nothing but make my daughter happy every morning when she thought about feeding him – and every night when she wanted to use him as fuel to delay the inevitable.

The dilemma – should I tell her now when friends are walking in and involve them in the drama. OR – wait till we’ve had too much to drink, are ready for bed, and risk her seeing the fish and have her spend the remaining hours of the night crying? We decided to tell her now - “your fish died, sister.”

She took it hard. She cried. She cried hard. And even my son cried hard. Just earlier that day I explained to him why his mom was crying – “her cousin, Brett, who she grew up with has cancer and was told by doctors there’s nothing they can do.” Death took on a whole new meaning for my son today……

It’s kind bizarre and sadistically funny how shit seems to work out in your day-to-day life. One day you’re blogging about the stupidity of bringing in fish that will inevitably die and cause drama to your life. The next day you’re putting the pieces together about how that seemingly thoughtless act turned into a life lesson for the three greatest people in your life…and yourself.

I’m posting the picture of my kids by Swimmy’s grave not as a joke…..but as fuel to spark memories in my readers of their first loss…their first pet…their first family member…their first death.

My wife’s cousin, Brett, is a fighter. Fuck that – he’s the damn Man! He’ll win this fucking battle against cancer, because the love behind his fight is undying, relentless, passionate, and one of the most moving experiences I’ve ever witnessed.

Livestrong Brett!