Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Hold your Babies Tight...

Hi everyone-

I usually use my blog to examine the sardonic and cranky 'dad' point of view that many parents feel but don't actually articulate. I love my children and have had fun making light of the darker and not too sexy side of rearing kids. It's life, right? Fun and games.

Its my nature to be sarcastic, and this blog is a fun avenue to explore the other side of parenting. Some of you have said I have an ability to tell the story thats on your minds but not yet 'ready to actually say'. I've been lucky to have a little success in my style of writing but thats not whats on my mind tonight.

Friday's nightmare in Newtown, CT. shocked us all. There aren't words. I won't try. Anyone who has children is in the same foggy, fucked up, non comprehensive state that I'm in.

As I'm writing this its been 96 hours and the there have been thousands of editorial responses form gun control to mental illness (and everything in between) as to the cause of this tragic event.

I'm not going to wax poetic on my opinions- there are too many out there right now and I'm a dime a dozen that won't solve the issue alone or waste your time telling you what I think. It's a bigger issue than a single blog can solve. We've all by now read the statistics of our country, and conversely other countries regarding gun ownership and mortality rates. The same with mental illness and treatment or there lack of...  

My thought tonight is to use this shitty, unbelievable event to take stock and remember the simple things. Say 'I love you' every day. Kiss you children as much as possible. Look at them for a second longer as you drop them off at school. The moments you have with your family sholuld be cherished, really- just love in the moment.

I'll be snarky another day.

Hold your Babies Tight...

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Come Hug Daddy in the Bathroom

In the early days, that is to say pre-children, I never thought for a second what joy could come of using a bathroom facility alone. All by my big-self. Now that I have children I understand those many, many years were wasted (ha!). I realized too late that it was a brief moment of solitude, a vacation I never took or even knew existed until the beasties came alive.

Post children, the first few months and even the first year I started to slowly realize that a minute in a bathroom without interruption, children, tasks or a wife was a golden opportunity to do absolutely nothing- just to think for a brief moment without feces, tantrums or orders being thrown at me.

That old job vacation time didn't roll over when my new career as a parent began in earnest.

I have adapted to a level that makes me appreciate and understand how we as humans slowly over hundreds of thousands of years shed our tails and slowly began to walk. And build fires. Even invent deodorant. My point is going to the bathroom now couldn't be any farther from the opposite of what I was used to for the last 39 years.

Given my new found adaptive techniques, I still try to sneak off and just go pee for a second. ALL BY MYSELF. It doesn't happen- ever.

All of the things boys and men have learned over adolescence and adulthood have gone by the wayside. Don't talk to a guy next to you while going to the bathroom?- Ruined. Look over at a guy (or worse, DOWN at a guy) while hes peeing?- Forget it. Touch a dude during the act- UNFORGIVEABLE...

When these cardinal rules were first broken I was unable to handle any of the offenses well. Miller would tear into the bathroom just as I was ready to 'go'. An ensuing stalemate occurred- lots of looking. Up and down. Staring happened frequently- for both of us. After a while it got cute- he would offer me some tissue after I was done. We do live with two ladies, I'll give him that...

Later phases of 'WFT' elevated into a bearhug around one of my legs in mid- stream. Staring was still the predominant action but the touching added a new level of difficulty to the task.

As for the adaptation, I'm equally proud and embarrased to have conquered all levels of potty terrorism my children have inflicted on me. A 5 piece Mariachi band could walk in on me these day and I wouldn't  blink an eye. Lets do shots, I say!

Come hug daddy in the bathroom...