Expedition Fatherhood

I Have a Five Year Old Teenager

2013-06-16T21:45:00.001-05:00

Seriously, I do.

Today was a great day. We went to the aquarium in Grapevine and had a lot of fun. Of course, a the day marched on, so too did the fatigue of my napless little ones. I wasn't too worried about it, but I figured it might make bedtime dramatic. As usual, I was correct.

It was kind of my fault though. I walked into the oldest one's bedroom and was almost blinded by light. See, Princess has gradually accumulated an overly abundant collection of lights in her room over the last year or so. She squirrels stuff away and it's gotten crazy. Tonight I had to make a change. She had a string of Christmas lights (so much for storing the Christmas decorations in her closet) blinking away in a pile on her floor and I decided it was time for them to go. I took them out, leaving her with only a night lite, the hall light and an eight foot long string of LED butterflies.

Oh, the drama! The tears fell until she started that hicupping, stuttering whimper, which I'm pretty sure is her secret weapon of last resort. Her near unbeatable method for getting me to back down.

Or so she thinks.

I stood my ground and put her to bed.

And then I heard it, as I walked down the stairs.

"Why (sob) does life (hiccup) have to be so hard? Waaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!"

What the...?

When did five become the new 15?

Things I Never Expected To Say #2

2013-06-04T09:30:00.000-05:00

Son, please don't lick dust off the vacuum cleaner!

Harsh Honesty

2013-06-03T21:03:00.002-05:00

Nothing can deflate one's ego like the honesty of a child.

I'm a big boy - which is how we Texans say we're fat - but I've been losing weight and toning things up for awhile now. So it caught me by surprise when I was putting Princess back to bed and as I leaned over to tuck her in she said, "Daddy, I thought only girls had boobies, not boys!"

So much for toning up. Hmm, maybe a girdle?

Have ya ever...

2013-06-02T13:54:00.001-05:00

Have Ya ever scared the daylights out of yourself? I mean scared yourself so well that you just about wet yourself?

Today, I did.

Recently, I had a new security system installed. And being a man, I had to get all the cool doohickies that came with it. My favorite - until today - is the app that lets me control the house automation and security from my phone. Today, the family was out and I was gathering up the tools for my to do list. I sat down at the table to check my list again, then headed for the back door. Now mind you, I had been going inane out for a bit, and the alarm wasn't set. It was just me and the Furball, and he can't reach the control panel. And no matter how much he begs, I'm not getting him a phone, so he can't control the system.

Well, I opened that back door and all help broke loose. The siren (which I'm pretty sure is louder than advertised) started wailing, he dog started running in circles and howling and a loud, disembodied voice directly behind me suddenly said, "Hello, is everything okay?"

I dang near had a heart attack.

Who knew you could butt dial your alarm?

Warm Fuzzies

2013-05-28T15:18:00.001-05:00

When parents get sick, there's no one to kiss it and make it all better. I've had laryngitis for five days now, and it's driving me nuts. But when Little Man climbed up on the couch beside me, took my finger in his tiny hand and laid his head against me to keep me company - well, warm fuzzies are pretty great medicine.

Boo Boo - ger

2013-05-12T21:35:00.001-05:00

Being a man, I thought I was prepared for all the little surprises my son might come up with. After all, I was a little boy at one point myself.

Apparently, I was a different kind of little boy than my son. Perhaps my OCD extends a bit farther back in time than I previously thought.

Little Man has a knack for grossing me out like nothing I ever imagined.

I was sitting at my computer when my fearless boy ran up screaming and crying. He was pitching such a fit I immediately started looking for severed ears or gushing wounds. I figured he had to be hurt. I couldn't see anything, and I was trying to calm him down when he suddenly shoved his hand at my face.

On his right index finger was the biggest booger I have ever seen!

And he couldn't get it off.

And it freaked him out even more than it did me!

I didn't know OCD was genetic.

True Love

2013-04-30T19:19:00.001-05:00

There comes a time in every Daddy's life when he hears those words he doesn't want to hear: "Daddy, I have a boyfriend!"

I really didn't expect it to be when she was five. I was at the counter making tortillas when I heard it today. I caught myself before I hit the ground, but the world swayed mightily. My little Princess is growing so very fast. Just yesterday, it seems, she was sleeping on my chest with her Pink. Today, she's planning to marry Cody. Lord have mercy.

And as if my constitution wasn't tested thoroughly enough by the whole boyfriend thing...

So, I know someday she will ask me true love. "How do I know it's true love, Daddy?" Now I have an answer.

See, Sweetheart decided to help me out by taking out the compost pail. She had never worked my compost tumbler before. She closed the lid, thought it was locked and turned it. Then she screamed. I would have taken a picture, but that bin isn't ready to dump out, see. I was a little too busy trying not to hurl.

So, how does that answer the question? Well, when you see that and immediately grab a shovel instead of making your Sweetheart clean up the mess, then you know you have TRUE LOVE.

????

2013-04-30T12:51:00.001-05:00

Ah, the wonders of life as a parent!

Amazing.

Mysterious.

Unknowable.

Filled with unanswerable questions.

Questions like - Why in the world is sparkling rainbow colored glitter cooked onto my tortilla griddle? And how did it get there when I store that thing on a shelf six feet off the floor?

Disillusionment

2013-04-28T13:45:00.001-05:00

The Princess is hiding.

Shattered by disillusionment.

I didn't mean to do it. Honestly!

But when I told her that we didn't actually have her baby brother as a toy for her, it just broke her heart.

-- Did you know that if you say something funny, not realizing it's funny until after your wife chokes, but you're unable to laugh because it will destroy the effectiveness of your disciplinary statement, it can make you cry. --

Busted

2013-04-20T21:49:00.001-05:00

Well, I knew it had to happen eventually. The writing was on the wall for a few years now. Things were just changing too fast, and it really was just a matter of time before someone caught me.

My daddy would be so ashamed.

I guess it all started after a brush with cancer a few years ago, when I started taking a hard look at what my family ate. Sweetheart and I decided that if she, as a biochemist, couldn't pronounce the ingredients list of a prospective food, we weren't going to eat it. We started cooking with primary ingredients from scratch. Then I started baking. Well, that all led to an eye opening price check. When I started grinding wheat (yes, the grinder is electric) and baking loaves of bread for 25 cents a loaf, I discovered an inner frugaholic that I had never known existed. I started finding ways to incorporate all kinds of cost saving, quality enhancing items into our lives. I found castile soap and essential oils and started cleaning better and oh so much cheaper. Then I got a vacuum packer. I love my vacuum packer. Sweetheart had to make me promise to never vac-pac the kids or the dog, but after that she just let me go. Now she finds the sales and I process it for storage. My goal is a herd of longhorns. I think I can do 'em. I've got me a 60 gallon tote full of assorted sizes of sealer rolls and pouches and a spare foodsaver to boot. I can seal 'em and freeze 'em or batch cook 'em as soon as she rolls 'em through the doorway.

Aaahhhaa! I do love me a good meat sale.

This last one though bit me in the butt and exposed my secret double life.

It all happened 'cuz my revered Most Redneck Brother came over to pressure wash my fence for restaining. Sweetheart had caught a good sale and as I was processing chicken and chops to be grilled in a weekly batch, I saw the beef ribs. Now I don't like eating ribs off the bone. I like a little less of a mess. Especially with two kids to clean up. So I like the ribs to melt off the bone - which is why I bake 'em.

There I said it! It's out now and the world can shake their heads in disgust if they want. Most Redneck was so shocked I though he was going to drop his cold beer. He told me that I was doing wrong. And their could be no excuse. He said he could never suffer to touch ribs from an oven.

That was probably the wrong time to wonder aloud if Sweetheart was finding the pair of crocs I was interested on trying out after years of her trying to tell me it would be fine of I wore plastic shows with no socks.

Most Redneck set down his beer, picked it right back up and said,"I'm formally revoking your redneck license, bubba. You done got too danged crunchy.

Hello, my name is TrekkerDad, and I am a crunchy, recycling, half hippy half redneck.

Wonder if I'm too old to learn how to play hacky sack?

Priorities

2013-04-13T12:55:00.001-05:00

The weather is perfect for working in my garden today. So after giving the girls a shopping list and sending them off to run errands, I started reading the instructions for my new drip irrigation system while gathering up Little Man for his nap. I figured I'd put him down and get to work. He had other ideas. Sweetheart will roll her eyes, I'm sure, but when the child who's normally too busy to give Daddy the time of day wants to kick back and watch Bob the Builder - well, it's all about getting priorities straight.

And I do kinda get a kick out of that idiot, Spud.

Public Warning...

2013-02-20T15:41:00.002-06:00

This is what happens when you lose track of a cocker spaniel while you're setting up the Candy Land themed decorations for your daughter's birthday party. Goofy critter snuck an unknown number of suckers of the candy mountain I was building while my back was turned. All we found were sticks. A few hours later, Sweetheart said he looked sick.

No - he's just coming off a wicked sugar high! He doesn't even have the energy to wag his tail.

... This is our dog ...

... This is candy ...

.
.. This is our dog on candy ...

Thought for the Day #23

2013-02-13T17:35:00.001-06:00

You know you're an amateur when you decide that a strip or two of packing tape will add structural strength to the balloon you're using to make a pinata for your daughter's birthday - and you end up taping yourself to the pinata.

Sick

2013-02-07T15:02:00.004-06:00

Well, the flu has finally hit, and it hit hard. Both the kids now have it. I'm pretty sure that's breaking the law, but it is what it is.

Add to that the fact that Little Man has been trying to cut his two year molars for - well, for longer than I can remember, and you have some sleepy parents.

Today, as Sweetheart and I were in the kitchen, desperately trying to stay awake while the kids were playing, she said, "You now, I don't think we've actually been able to have an uninterrupted night of sleep since November. It's amazing we're not sick, too!"

To which I replied, "We probably are! It's just that the bugs that got into us are so freakin' tired to do anything right now."

Now I can hear little voices inside me screaming, "Come on, man, make the kids sleep so we can get to work on you!"

Dog Talk

2013-01-28T11:38:00.000-06:00

So, the boy is teething again. He's cutting his molars and he's not happy about it. For that matter, neither is anyone else.

The night before last (I was to tired to write yesterday), he kept us awake pretty much the whole night. After he finally gave up and fell into exhausted and fitful slumber, I laid in bed trying to go back to sleep, silently envying my wife, who could easily sleep through a tornado. When I realized that I was contemplating rolling her out of bed, just so I wouldn't be the only one awake, I figured I might oughta get myself downstairs before I got myself in trouble.

I had brewed up a cup of coffee and was diligently working on my to do list for the day - okay, I was playing a video game, but hey, it was 3 o'clock in the freaking morning - when I head a familiar sound on the stairs. It sounds kind of like a bunch of bowling balls being rolled down the stairs all at once. In reality, it's the sound my beloved Furball makes when he's in a hurry to get downstairs.

I was rather surprised to hear him coming down, since he normally won't move until my wife does, and he and I both knew she wasn't going to move for hours yet. Well, I watched him round the corner fast and I moved to get him some fresh water and to open the door to let him out.

Now, if you know me, then you know I speak dog fluently. I'm often called upon as a translator, and Furball and I enjoy rousing conversations, mostly focusing on politics, relationships and dog treats.

This morning, however, he was a bit grumpy. He trotted past me saying, "Don't worry about water, Dad. I just came down to pee." As I opened the door, he saw that it had rained and the ground was wet. He hesitated, as he remembered with great trepidation, his past experience with wet ground. You see, Sweetheart used to freak out about muddy paws, so whenever he went out when it was wet, she would meet him at the door with a towel and scrub his feet dry. Furball doesn't like this. I've seen that dog hold it for 18 hours before, rather than go out in the rain. Six years since she's done it, but he's still leery of rain.

This time, however, he looked up at me and said, "Aw, what the heck. She's not gonna be conscious for hours yet, thanks to that boy you two had to have." So out he goes to pee. As he came back in, he looked at me with the drooping, reddened, bleary eyes of exhaustion that can only be seen on a cocker spaniel who's been deprived of his necessary 20 hours of daily sleep and said, "I'm wiped out, Dad. I'm going back to bed."

He started to wearily amble back the way he had come, then stopped and turn his head back to me, cocked his ears, and asked in a - slightly - humorous tone, "Dad, can I just eat him so we can all get a good night sleep?"

Hmm, sometimes it's worrisome having a talking dog.

I Want Diapers, Too

2013-01-26T02:47:00.000-06:00

I believe I want me some diapers.

Not for the boy, mind you - for myself.

Now, don't fall off your chair yet. And be careful. Try not to blow coffee out your nose. Hear me out now.

See, just about every man over 40 knows that their comfy sleep will be broken at least once a night by the need to pee. It's really annoying.

So, as I was making my trek across the room just now, trying to avoid stepping on Furball or any Lego land mines the kids might have snuck in, I thought to myself, "Little Man has it made! He can sleep right through the call off the waterfall."

And that's when it hit me - I want a diaper, too!

Shoot, all that boy has to do is let it rip, and leave it to us to change his 20 pound diaper in the morning. Why can't I enjoy that kind of blissful freedom? The freedom to wake up at oh dark thirty and think to myself, "The heck with stumbling all the way to the toilet! Aaaaaahhhhhh!" And then, back to sweet slumber!

Hmm...

I wonder if they make size 54 Huggies?

Ooh - more importantly, I wonder if Sweetheart would change me in the morning?

Hmmm...

Thought for the Day #22

2013-01-24T05:42:00.000-06:00

You know you're two year old has started cutting his molars when you've lost so much sleep that you're standing at the sink shaving at 4 am and your wife comes in and takes your underwear off, not to get frisky, but to put them on the right way after you put them on backwards.

PS - And then you come downstairs for coffee and realize you put your pants on inside out.

More Testosterone, Please!

2013-01-20T10:11:00.003-06:00

I think I need to have another son - or two or three - so the testosterone in the house will override the estrogen.

And this kind of thing is why. I speak dog, so I'll translate what he said. My poor Furball!

ZZZ.....mmm, rabbits...mmm, squirrels...

ZZZ..snort..huh...Why'd I wake up? What's going on?? Did someone say treat???

Hey, wait just a doggone minute! Is there something on my hea - HEY WAIT! STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!!
I'm tellin' ya, Mommy - I love ya, but you 're gonna want to put that camera down.

Okay! Now you've done it. That's just mean.
DADDY! Can I pee on her camera?

Midnight Rant

2012-12-15T01:37:00.000-06:00

(WARNING! The following post is written by a father going on his third night without sleep because of the people written about below.)

This goes out to all you danged, inconsiderate, idiotic jerks out there who either think your actions have no impact on others, or who are just too sick to care. You know who you are. You drive around with your radios blasting at ear shattering volumes. You drive around thinking it's cool to have your exhaust system modified to be louder than a 747 at takeoff. You rev your motorcycle, with its freight train-like mufflers, in the middle of the night. You have no concern for the children you wake, or the dogs you set to barking, or the people who actually have to sleep. You don't care that the noise you so thoughtlessly produce scared a child so badly that he couldn't go back to sleep. Of course, even if he had been able to go back to sleep, you would have woken him up again as you continued to drive around all night long.

Now, we all know that your penises are so tiny that you feel you have to try to prove your manhood by making loud noises and beating your chest - rather like the Neanderthals you seem to aspire to emulate. But do the rest of us have to suffer because of your inadequacies? A booming radio is not going to make you a man. Waking up children in the middle of the night with your ridiculously loud vehicle will not make you little wee wee grow.

So grow up and learn some consideration, you jerk!

And if not, let me leave you with the words of one of my favorite songs of old, by the great Jimmy Dickens:

"May the bird of paradise fly up your nose, May an elephant caress you with its toes ..."

Well, the rest is about your wife, and we all know you probably don't have one of those, so I'll add my own words to it.

May your testicles explode in a fury so that your genes may leave humanity forever and relieve the rest of us of your stupidity.

Thought for the Day #21

2012-12-13T06:10:00.002-06:00

You know it's going to be an interesting day when your two year old sleeps so fitfully that he manages to roll off his bed twice during the night and you actually have to hunt for him on the floor - "Hmm, is he under the bed or did he roll across the room to land under the chair?" (answer: 11:30 pm and 2:30 am respectively)

Daddy School: Attention To Detail

2012-12-06T15:07:00.001-06:00

I learned this in the Navy, and it has kept me out of trouble many, many times. Especially as a Daddy.

What is "attention to detail" you ask? It is basically the art of being aware of everything around you and also of being aware of the possible consequences which might arise from possible scenarios involving things and people around you. I know this might sound impossible, but it's actually not. It simply takes a little forethought.

For instance, if I leave my tablet on the kitchen table after writing this post, and then Little Man comes into the kitchen while my back is turned, then my tablet is going to be damaged when he pulls if off the table to play with. So, I will not leave this tablet on the table where little hands can grab it. That's a detail I'm going to pay attention to , therefore avoiding the consequence of having to replace a fairly expensive tool.

Daddies are the ones who have to check the tires before a trip to ensure that their entire family isn't killed in some horrific explosion. And Daddies are the ones who have to make sure that the home security alarm is always on when the kids are safely tucked in bed, not to save the family from hordes of raging zombies or hoodlum burglars, but to keep those ingenious little kids from falling out of their second floor windows if they figure out how to get the windows unlocked. Hey, let me introduce you to my daughter and you'll realize it's not that farfetched.

This kind of thinking amuses my wife, until such a time as I'm proven right. For instance, I made her favorite red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting for her birthday. The frosting on that cake consisted of roughly six full cups of powdered sugar. I should point out the fact that we do NOT eat a great deal of sugar in our home. About the only times I use this much sugar in anything are the four annual birthdays we celebrate (I don't make a cake for the Furball's birthday, just a recall big southern biscuit shaped like a bone. He loves it!). Now, my habit of paying attention to the details of life ensured that I only ate one piece of that cake (per day). My wife on the other hand, ate two pieces (both worthy of a man of my girth, not a little bitty thing like her), not thinking at all of the possible consequences. This is why I slept well that night while she LITERALLY bounced around the house laughing hysterically, wondering why she was so hyper. Suffice to say, she often has to say this wonderful words, "You were right." Well, at least I think they're wonderful. Her, not so much.

However, while it pains me to admit it, I'm not always great at paying attention to, or even remembering the details of everyday life either. For instance, I could use the same cake as an example against myself as well. I was changing Little Man's diaper when I just about came out of my skin and started to call for Sweetheart to grab the car so we could get to the ER. But thankfully, I caught myself just before I made a complete fool of myself.

You see, if you pay attention to details, you'll remember that when you feed a toddler cake with green food coloring in it (I didn't have enough red), his poop will be a terrifyingly fluorescent shade of green.

Daddy School: Be Enthusiastic

2012-12-05T09:54:00.001-06:00

When I first became a Daddy, I had grandiose notions of guiding my child gently, but firmly, through life to adulthood. I imagined sitting at the table, teaching her Aristotle and Twain, Churchill and Verne, geometry and geography. I would tell her, "Job well done, daughter.", and she would smile contentedly.

Oh, the idealistic days.

Reality is slightly different. Now I find myself standing over the boy as he pees in the potty while I scream, "Yay! Yay! Way to go! Wow!", and generally going into hysterical affirmations and other wild encouragements.

You see, as a Daddy, one of the foremost requirements is enthusiasm. And not just your average, mundane, run of the mill enthusiasm, such as you would exhibit for your favorite team. No, I speak of the extraordinary, wild, seemingly uncontrolled, often forced, very loud and EXTREME enthusiasm small children demand for every step they take towards maturity. It's the only thing capable of convincing them that something is right and good. That they have done something correctly. That you actually ARE paying attention to them as they put together yet another stack of blocks for you to revel in with uncontrollable joy and NOT actually passing out on the couch from sheer exhaustion. It's hollering "Yay!" so many times for so many things that other adults look at you like you're insane because you see them buckle their seat belt on their own and you began clapping and yelling, "Yay!! You did it! Such a big boy!"

Yes, enthusiasm is an absolute Daddy requirement, as stated by Law. Our children require it to build their self confidence and basic skills, such as motor skills, hand-eye coordination, balance, speech, eating , walking, etc. They look to us to know that they are clearing the current hurdle, and if we are quiet or inattentive, they see no reason to continue their stellar progress. Oh sure, they will develop certain skills naturally, simply through necessity, but they will not develop as quickly or as steadily as they will when they see and hear their Daddy (or Mommy) wildly approve of their actions. Nor will they develop the same level of self confidence.

So don't be ashamed to show your nurturing side. Enthusiastically cheer your children on to accomplishment. That's what Daddies do.

And if, the next time you're eating supper at your favorite steakhouse, you loudly cheer for the huge man in the next booth for using his knife correctly, don't despair. You may be kicked out, or you may get your hind end beaten into the ground - but you'll still be building up his self confidence.

Daddy School: Drive Like A Daddy

2012-12-04T17:52:00.000-06:00

My dogs actually taught me about this one.

Before we even had children, we adopted two Cocker Spaniel puppies. At the time, we had a Subaru Forester with one of those protective doggy seat cover/hammock type thing. It was advertised as protecting your seats and your dogs at the same time. Yeah right. Dang dogs ate through the "chew-proof" fabric within a week.

Anyway, one evening, we were coming back from the dog park and had both pups in the back seat. They were fine until we were a few blocks from home. Suddenly, we began hearing whimpering and whining coming from the back seat. I didn't think too much of it because we were almost home. No big deal. Yeah right!

A few minutes later, the smell began hitting us. Oh, it was awful. As was the fact that both pups were frantically jumping and running around the back seat. I pulled over as quickly as I could, but it was way too late. Oh, yes, it was entirely too late.

When we got parked, we were horrified. The seat cover was dislodged from their crazed activity. What we saw made me cry. Two dogs and the entire back seat of my car were covered in vile, runny, extraordinarily malodorous puppy poop. They had ground it into the seats, the seat belts, the worthless freaking seat cover and each other.

Being the wonderfully loving husband I am, I agreed to drive the car (with my head as far out the window as I could get it) the rest of the way home, while my wife took both dogs the remaining block to the house on their leashes. Daddies (even if they're only doggy Daddies at the time) are always required to take the short straw. That's just the law.

Now of course, due to my epilepsy, my wife has to do all of the driving. But I'm steadily teaching her to drive like a Daddy.

You would think that her memory would be long enough to remember that incident from five years back just as clearly as my much more foggy brain. Nope. She forgot.

Recently, we were beginning a long road trip to attend my nephew's wedding. Now, we live in the Metroplex. If you're not from the greatest land on Earth and live in ignorance of the geography of this most beautiful land, then you know my home as the Dallas-Forth Worth area. It's a little area of about 160 some-odd cities and towns all spread together. It's populated by a couple million of the most aggressive, crazy and non-vigilant mix of Rednecks and transplanted freaking Yankees in the world. I mention that so you will understand that we have a rather high incidence of traffic accidents and their attendant traffic jams. So when my wife, who thinks like a woman (I can leave ten minutes before I have to be at a destination 30 miles away and I'll be there in plenty of time), left the house, she expected to have an easy trip.

HAHAHAHAHAHA

Oops, sorry, Sweetheart.

So, there we were in the car. The kids were in the back seat comfortably playing and napping. I was heavily drugged to ensure a seizure-free drive (which meant I was peacefully snoring) and my poor wife was in the driver's seat with a white-knuckled grip on the wheel and eyes wide with shock as she began the horrifying experience of driving through the Metroplex, from one side to the other, for the first time in seven years. See, as the Daddy, I always drove. She always slept. Not anymore.

Three hours later, I began to wake up and looked over to see my beloved wife glued to the wheel with red face, frazzled hair, glassy eyes and smoking ears. The girl was in the back saying, "I have to go potty and I can't hold it!" The boy was back their crying. We were in heavy traffic and my wife was saying something to the effect of, "I said I'll pull off and find a rest from as soon as I can!"

Oh, my! It's my fault. I hadn't taught her enough about driving like a Daddy.

I told her to pull off at the next exit. She said no, she couldn't get off in this traffic. I said pull off at the next exit. Period.

It took me awhile to convince her, pretty much until the smell started coming forward. Then she agreed to pull off.

An hour later, after we had changed both kids clothes, bagged them up to burn at the first opportunity, cleaned the poop out of BOTH car seats, powdered both behinds and taken them both to the potty again - just to be sure - and eaten a snack (to let the car air out), we were back on the road. It was an awful way to learn a lesson.

Now, I am very proud to say, my wife is well on her way to driving like a Daddy. She is learning the ,most important lessons quickly. Things like:
Always asking about the need for potty breaks at every single exit you pass.
Always have snacks portioned out in easily opened packages within easy reach.
Always have plenty of fluids to drink - no sugar allowed.
Always have plenty of baby wipes, hand sanitizer, sturdy plastic bags, diapers, changes of clothes and tissues on hand.
If at all possible, drive in the right hand lane, in case you hear those horrible words - "I'm going to be sick!"
Always remember, there is a destination. The trip WILL end and you will be able to get out of the car and the kids will stop driving you insane - and hopefully be taken by grandparents happy so happy to see them that they won't notice you sneaking off to the nearest bedroom to cry into a pillow and close your eyes for a minute before you have to unload the car.
And most importantly, if you ever hear a child (or a pregnant spouse) say, "I have to go potty and I can't hold it!", you pull that car over immediately and make rapid arrangements to get that child in a safe position - namely, out of my car!

And that is driving like a Daddy.

Daddy School

2012-12-04T17:45:00.001-06:00

Today, as my Sweetheart and I were redecorating the parlor after our children happily "decorated" the tree, she asked me how I had managed to fix a tricky section of lighting. I told her I had learned it in Daddy School. She looked at me like I was crazy before asking me what Daddy School was.

Now, I will be the first to admit that my ancestors didn't just kiss the Blarney Stone, they married the danged thing and had kids with it. In other words, we can sling it just a wee bit better than most. Especially the men of my family.

This may explain why she thought I was making it all up when I began to explain that all Daddies go to Daddy School when their wives are pregnant with their first child. It's the law I told her. The Daddy Law.

She seemed less than convinced, and I'm a little offended by that. So I decided to break the Daddy Laws and reveal some of the secrets I learned when I attended Daddy School. That way she'll know I'm not just full of it. Right?

So, thus begins a series of articles revealing the secrets of how to be a Daddy. Secrets passed down for thousands of years, from one Daddy to the next. Secrets intended to ensure that Daddies may always be known as the great fixer, the supernatural bouncer, the most bestest hugger, the most awesomest block tower builder and so much more.

Welcome to Daddy School

Sweet Revenge

2012-12-03T06:35:00.000-06:00

My dog loves little more than to lie under my feet passing gas. Often it gets so bad he has to leave, while I'm left gagging.

Today, I got revenge.

He jumped up in my lap expecting a good ear scratch, and when he landed on me, I passed gas. Right in his face! The shock in his eyes was priceless. That dog has never moved so fast. He broke and ran, crossing the room in a split-second before diving head first into the floor and rolling around snorting. I guess he was trying to rub the stink off. I must admit it was pretty potent.

I was laughing and enjoying my revenge right up until my wife started hollering at me, saying something about something being crude, or something or other. I'm not exactly sure, as I was already running from the room to escape the toxic cloud myself.

It's good to be a man!