Stopping The Time Continuum

My son is slowly killing me!

It’s true. And he’s doing it with one simple little phrase “hold on, one sec!”

With that one little phrase the boy truly feels the time continuum comes to screeching halt.

Parents slow to a grind. Soccer games, swimming lessons, school, homework…everything that he should be helping to arrive to on-time is slammed with a huge “pause” button and shelved for kick-ass things like shuffling through eight-foot-high stacks of Pokemon cards, SpongeBob, and burying his sister in pillows.

Of course if I were being truthfully honest I’d take a portion of the blame. After all, I am the dumb-ass that waited until it was time to go before I ask the boy to stop what he’s doing, stand, put on a coat, and walk out of the large rectangular door.

No, I clearly must secretly enjoy the pain and still go by adult time rather than children time.

Instead I say, “OK, grab your shoes and coat and let’s go!”

Son: “Hold on, one sec daddy.”

He then immediately throws on the jittery, jerky, fast-moving motions like he’s going as fast as he can to finish what he’s doing so he can leave as per my request.

His eyes are darting all over the room like he’s trying to locate his shoes and coat, but in reality in his tiny little brain he’s thinking, “OK, if I stand here long enough looking like I might implode he’ll leave to go get my shoes for me giving me enough time to finish watching SpongeBob while I give the dog Macy’s favorite dolly to chew on while we’re gone!”

Me: “Grayson, seriously…you’re shoes are right next to you. Put them on your feet and let’s go!”

Grayson: “OK daddy…one sec!”

This is when he quickly runs up the stairs.

Me: “Oh my god!!! Where in the world are you going son?!!”

He then throws on the fake urgent mumbled voice knowing damn good and well I can’t hear a word he’s saying and that I’ll be way too lazy to go up the stairs after him.

Me: “Dude!!!!! I’m going to carry you out the door in one second!!”

He then comes running down the stairs with absolutely nothing in his hands, blows by me, and heads to the table to start shuffling through his Pokemon cards.

Which makes sense because in his mind time has literally stopped. The bitching and stomping his old man is doing is not really happening. The clock hasn’t moved one second.

He dropped the “hold on, one sec” so he’s got all the time in the world.

Meanwhile the blood has rushed to my head leaving my fingers numb, a gray hair pops to the surface of my massive head, and my heart is pounding out of my chest as I try like hell to keep my cool.

This is the point in which I shock the hell out of him by breaking his little time stopping trick, grab him by the back of his shirt and physically move him towards his shoes and the door.

Which is always met with, “OK DADDY!!! I was just about to get my shoes….geeeze!!!”

And now, I’m an asshole, the worst father ever, and in his mind, the poster-child for lack of patience.

Tomorrow I think I’ll wake him up at 5 a.m. to start getting him ready for the 8 a.m. start-of-school bell.

Think he’ll learn his lesson then?

Yeah, me either.



Wanna See If That Fits In My Gap?

I may have mentioned a time or two that I kinda have a gap between my two front teeth. If you haven’t heard me say that before well…I’ve got a gap between my two front teeth.

Between that, my Dumbo ears, and my oversized head I’ve given quite a number of people plenty of teasing material over the decades I’ve stomped around on this crazy planet. But it’s all good. I’ve embraced my “uniqueness” – which is what my wife calls my distorted attributes.

So, it’s in that same vein that I gathered the family last night and sent them on a quick hunt to find two things each they’d like to see me shove in-between my two front teeth.

You want to see the results don’t you? Well here it goes:

The Wife Chose:

8 business-sized envelopes

 

My Blackberry charger cord while still attached to my phone

The Daughter Chose:

 

Barbie’s hand. And the whole time I did this one Ken was in the corner laughing like a school girl. Sick bastard.

8 Silly Bandz...stupid Silly Bandz.

The Boy Chose:

 

Yes…that’s a nickel. The fattest of the pocket change being circulated in this great country.

 

A Lego ladder with SpongeBob and Patrick attached. I guess they’re ornamental?

So that’s it people. Now you’ve seen the gap in full display. I hope you’re happy cause my damn teeth hurt like hell now!

What I Learned In Two Weeks

Two weeks. I survived two freakin’ weeks as a single, stay-at-home dad. No, wifey hasn’t left me…yet. She does work part-time though. So, from 8 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. I was the lone individual responsible for keeping two, insane children alive and from killing themselves, or me.

So here are my thoughts and some snapshots of what went down:

1)  Stay at home moms fucking rock. And! Single parents should be given full-tax breaks and awarded Pulitzer Prizes of Awesomeness made of diamonds.

2)  My daughter is absolutely head-over-heels in love with Patrick from SpongeBob.

3)  My kids watch too much SpongeBob.

4)  Watching my boy interact with strangers on a sledding hill brings the biggest, dumbest smile to my oversized face.

5)  Checking out the view from the top of the Sears Tower is kick-ass and makes wifey poop herself.

6)  It becomes painfully difficult to find time to masturbate when children are in your life 24/7.

7)  Wait…I mean…#5 is something I heard on Oprah.

8)  Shit – I swear I did not start watching Oprah over the past two weeks. I hate that woman!!! But seriously, her holiday episode…I mean…SHIT!

9)  I get my period when I’m alone with the kids for that long of time.

10)  I found myself standing in a room at least once a day, with absolutely no idea why in the fuck I walked into it.

11)  I went grocery shopping twice with a list of over two dozen things and came out with only beer and popcorn.

12)  My daughter thinks she’s iCarly and wants to kiss a boy.

13)  iCarly is banned from this house for the next 13 years until she goes off to college.

14)  Parenting with a hangover is really really really hard.

15)  When my kids are lying on the couch, entranced with a movie, and not moving—they are the most adorable fucking things on this planet.

16)  My wife wonders what I “do all day?”

17)  I’ve learned how to turn my phone off all day, then when the wifey asks “what’s up with your phone,” I use my brand-new, off-the-shelf mid-western accent and say, “Ohh geeze…the battery died so I had to plug it in to charge and forgot to turn it back on-okay! Sorry yah!”

18)  Trying to do a cartwheel when you’re naked and alone to celebrate the children going back to school is not a good idea. The cat attacked Mr. Small-Time and almost made it Mr. No-Time.

19)  I hate…hate…hate my fucking cat. Lazy, furry, cozy, snuggle buddy. I mean..that asshat.

20)  My son and I became closer than we’ve ever been and it makes me weak in the knees.

21)  All I have to do is look in my daughter’s eyes for a split second, and she’s scrambling to sit next to me…grabbing my arm and laying it around her and across her chest.

22)  My wife has the ability to make me do whatever in the holy hell she wants me to do and I have no control over it. I painted our bedroom and hallway, and went to Ikea all in a two-day span. And I didn’t even know it happened until it was over.

23)  Three days is the limit for me not taking a shower. After that…even I’m writing myself hate-notes and slipping them under my pillow.

24)  A lot of employers don’t post available jobs during the holidays.

25)  Despite all that’s absolutely and totally fucked right now…I love my life and those who are in it.

Super Dad!!....Redux

Today begins round two of being a stay at home dad. The wifey took off to N.C. to be with her family and help them put her cousin to rest. Until Tuesday night, it’ll be me, the two precious bastards, a cat, two fish, and the house.

Last week when I went through this we had a pretty good time. This week…I’m gonna blow the roof of this joint. I plan on planting serious fucking memories in these kids heads—even if it kills me. I mean, the way I look at it, that’s the only real selfish benefit I get out of it.

“What do you mean you gap-toothed, big-eared freak?” you might be asking yourself.

Well, in most circumstances I’d be banking the living hell out of the days I’ve spent as a single dad. I’d be keeping a pretty little row of binge drinking cards, sex cards, oh hell no you’re cooking tonight cards, and why don’t you wipe her ass this time cards. But wifey’s dealing with a death in the family, which just shits all over my capability to get any benefit from being Mr. Mom.

I can’t whip-out my kick-ass cards to ask her to spend the week rubbing my feet, clipping my fingernails, shaving my back, taking care of the kids, feeding me dinner, and watching football. I can’t make plans to hit the Irish pub with the dudes. And I certainly can’t plop down next to her on the couch wearing my crotchless SpongeBob thong and leather mask holding a picture of PeeWee Herman and say “let’s do this.”

So instead, I’m gonna funnel all that energy towards the two midgets in the house. We’re gonna hit a birthday party, ride some bikes, maybe put a dent in Kiddieland, eat lots of ice cream, play kickball, roast marshmallows in the fire pit, and maybe even chase the cat around the house and shave our names in him.

And when the wife comes home I’ll help her move past this tragedy in her life and then over time we’ll all fall back into our routine. Oh sure, I’ll have the urge to ask her to shave my toes…. and even to wear the SpongeBob thong (I may wear them under my pants..just in case.), but I won’t.

Instead, hopefully she’ll look through all the shitty photos I take of the kids and feel relaxed that even though she married a sex-crazed douche – I can still support her in a time of need.  

Time on the Bike

My six-year-old is turning into a biking fanatic—which I’m absolutely loving. After my long commute every day, I walk in the door, usually sweating, dying for a beer, and hoping to smell a waft of freshly cooked dinner filling the air. Instead I usually see my daughter watching SpongeBob, no beer in the fridge, the smell of cat, and my son screaming “can we go for a bike-ride dad?!!! Can we pleeeeeease??!!”

                  

The longest ride I’ve taken the little bastard on is about 18 miles. Now keep in mind he’s on a little kids dirt-bike. Nothing fancy, no bike shorts to protect his precious hiny, no gloves for better grip, no bike shoes to help provide efficient pedaling…..just a helmet and a bike. And he loves it—begging for more when we’re done.

Along the rides I have the best fucking talks and the shit that comes out of his mouth is so cool and unexpected sometimes.

Along the Salt Creek trail he’ll say – “OOOHHH! This is my favorite part – look at the cool trees and how green everything is. Over here is where we usually see deer. I love the woods.”

And I’m all, “Yeah – it’s pretty awesome Grayson,” while I’m choking back tears and trying to keep a manly appearance.

On a ride the other day I said – “Hey, you could be Lance Armstrong for Halloween.”

He said – “Or, I could be that blonde headed woman who dropped my favorite toy the other day and busted it all over the floor.” He was talking about my wife dropping his favorite toy, breaking it and all his hopes and dreams along with it. Totally fucking random, out of the blue, and cool as shit. I love minds that work randomly and even more when he can work it into shit.

So I’m going to keep taking the bike rides. My struggle is giving him choices that allow him to take it up a notch without seeming like I’m pushing him. I’m trying to be the opposite of how my dad was. If it was my dad – he’d buy him a 10-speed with all the gear then yell at him to train harder, do better, and if I didn’t, he’s stop coming to my races cause it’s “a waste of his time.”

Regardless if he takes it to the next step or not, I’ll continue to soak in every damn word that random kid says and keep riding his back wheel through the woods.