And then I noticed it. The mirror.
Generally speaking, all three star chain hotel rooms look the same, smell the same, and feel the same. But this room was somewhat different. I think that It was simply nicer then other rooms we stayed in.
The Mirror in the bathroom seemed ordinary at first, but then I went to pee. Thing is, I could see my self pee. The whole thing. The mirror was right above the toilet, and very low. This was very different. If you think you know what you look like naked, you need to visit this PA hotel to get a second opinion. Watching myself pee made me realize two things. One, that the situation down there is better then what I always thought and two, that peeing was not the only thing I wanted to watch my slf do in front of that magical mirror. But for that I had to wait until much later when everyone was finally asleep.
It was worth the wait. Like in the movies (you know what kinds of movies I’m referring to, no need to split hairs, right?)
*Writing on my phone is proving to be more difficult then what I thought it would be.
Just like everybody else, we are seeing family this holiday season. My wife’s father was very happy to see us. Him, his wife, and two dogs were waiting for us. The small nervous dachshund was placed in another room and the kids were left to play with the old, extremely long basset hound.
My son and him had an immediate connection, and not thirty minutes from the time we arrived, they were both lying on the floor engaged in deep conversation.
My eleven month old daughter was a bit more suspicious, and it took her some time to warm up, but she finally did. So did the dog, and before I could say bastard hound he was dry humping my baby.
After we separated them, just to make sure I understood what was going on, my father in law’s wife explained that the dog did it because of my daughter’s “smells“. She repeated it many times because if it’s important you have to make sure everybody got it!
The baby started crying shortly after we started heading back . It turns out, that in the process of getting out we forgot the formula at home. A screaming baby in the back seat of the car for any ride longer then thirty seconds is a nightmare. A hungry screaming baby is adding the guilt factor which makes it unbearable. Almost.
So we started singing all the songs that work. Songs that work are giving you the illusion that you can over come the crying. But it’s quiet only while you sing. Stop singing and a different kind of a concert begins. So here we are, mom and dad, both nursing a cold, singing our lungs out with some assistance from our older one, driving as fast as we can when suddenly the car in front of us is slowing down until it stops completely, and moves to the side of the road. My initial thought was that there has been an accident, but no, there was no accident. The lady in the Prius (of course) across from me had her car stopped in the middle with blinking lights and a stupid smile, while two ducks, birds of a feather, were trying to cross the road. Everybody around us seemed very happy. They did not have a screaming infant in their car. I waited for about a minute and then pure honesty took over and I shouted “Fuck the ducks!” And took off. The annoying lady in the Prius didn’t like it at all.
* No ducks or cars were harmed during the making of this post.
Road Trip- Family road trips are great. You get to change atmosphere, spend some time with the family, see new things, if you are lucky and avoid rush hour you are in for a smooth ride. In short, road trips can be a lot of fun. But when the kids are asleep in the back, and you and your wife finally have some real quality time to have a meaningful conversation, after you talk about the kids, sex, work, money, starting your own business and your friends, you start talking about your relatives. In the middle of the talk about your relatives you decide to buy more life insurance.
Don’t Flush- There are many reasons why Don’t Flush order is in effect. The most obvious one is a clogged toilet, but there are other reasons like water preservation or just trying not to wake the kids up. Regardless of the reason, the likelihood of actually remembering not to flush is slim at best. I could spend the entire time I pee thinking about how much I shouldn’t flush. I keep thinking about it while I pull the lever and then realize what I just did deep into washing my hands.
The Package- An unidentified box came to my work. I was asked to look into it. Since there was no name on the box it remained unopened. So it was for me to determine who’s it for. I opened it alone, but the loud “Holly Shit” that came out of my mouth unintentionally attracted a small crowd. In the box, resting comfortably side by side, was a big blue dildo, and a ring shaped piece of equipment that despite all my porn education I’ve never seen before. We couldn’t find a name on the packing slip at first, and I was already thinking about how to sneak the ring shaped thing out of the building when we saw the name. Why the fuck would you have this stuff ship to work? What was he thinking? He said he bought it as a gift for someone. That’s what I would have said if someone found my dildo.
Last thing- Between road trips, hurricanes, parenthood and a bunch of other things I wasn’t around much to share the shittiness of a dad that I am with the world. So thanks for still reading my stuff.
I am constantly telling my son to stop picking his nose. I however, spend the first ten minutes after arriving home in the evening doing just that. I will also do it whenever I go to the bathroom. In fact, I sometimes go to the bathroom just to do it. I do it in the car but only after dark. It’s not that I’m proud of it but how can you not do it? I find it hard to believe that there are people in this world who don’t feel the urge to dig in and take out all that good stuff. “Look it!” He is yelling in an ordering tone, filled with joy, pointing a mucus covered finger. And I love him so much, but this so disgusting. The fact that you enjoy the smell of your own farts doesn’t mean that you appreciate it when your kids fart on your hand when you apply butt paste during a diaper change. Same goes for nose picking. You may say that I set a bad example with my own digging, but when I visit his daycare it seems like all the kids suffer from the same pre existing condition called Indexus En Nostrilus. They walk around, one hand holding a toy and the other searching for gold.
I don’t like shitting in public places. I know from previous comments that I’m not alone in this. But sometimes a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.
I had to take a dump so I went to the shitter at work. Two stalls, one urinal. Divided by plywood or something like that. I got in and set. I started doing my business and someone walked in and set on the other stool. I immediately resolved to code turtle head (It looks like a turtle head sticking out of… figure it out on your own) and waited. I can’t perform like this. The guy barely set and started shitting his ass out. He was done in ninety seconds.
When he walked out of the booth, he slammed the door. As a result, my door opened. Thankfully, by the time it opened completely he was gone. So here I am sitting there with the door wide open. My worst nightmare I thought but it wasn’t over yet. So I decided to go for it and close the fucking door. With my pants to my knees I started frog walking. Then I heard the sound. Terrible sound.When you hear it you know you are fucked. It was the sound of the turtle head splashing on the floor.
And then someone walked in. I think (wishful) that I closed the door before he saw me.
Cleaning it was a bitch.
You never forget your first time.
The adrenalin rush, the fear of the unknown, trying to play it cool, not to make a fool of yourself.
The first time you take your kid to the ER. Why, what did you think I’m talking about?
The drawer fell on his foot. And while we warn him over and over again to be careful of all kind of stuff, it wasn’t his fault at all. We told him to put his cup in the drawer. And he did. And it’s a new house so we are still learning where the builder took his shortcuts. I heard a boom, then I counted twenty one, twenty two, twenty three. And the screaming started. About an hour later we went to the ER. Was pretty quite there, and with a little kid it didn’t take long before they called us in.
After the X-Ray, the Dr. came. No broken bones, no serious damage. But he would like to drain the blood from the toe. I remembered that my wife once closed the car door on her finger and had a similar procedure, and did not complain about it too much. I forgot that woman are tough, and that man and children are not. So being the shitty dad that I am I told him that it’s not going to hurt. Well it hurt like a motherfucker and in addition to my wife and me, we needed four more nurses to hold him down while the Dr was doing his thing. In his despair he called for help from the only person in the room that was not a part of all of it, his younger sister who was resting comfortably in her stroller completely indifferent to the drama evolving not five feet from her.
They fell asleep on the way home, and the next day he had a booboo to show off.
You never forget your first time…
“I know not what we’ll use in the first trips” I told my dad, who last moved some thirty three years ago, paraphrasing on Albert Einstein’s famous quote about the weapons of WW4, “but on the last trip we’ll use trash bags“. And boy was I right.
Everybody hates moving. Movers hate moving because it’s hard labor that pays little and you get attitude from your boss and the customers. The customer hates it because some sweaty mover guy is touching their shit and might accidentally find their porn/sex toy/pot/you name it. DIY wannabees like me hates it because it’s a lot of work, you get hurt, you get angry at all the people you helped move who won’t come to help you, and your dad might accidentally find your porn/sex toy/pot/ you name it.
In my case it was watching my dad, who traveled such a long distance just to help us, holding a bra in one hand and my dirty underwear in another. Will I do the same for my kids?
Towards the end, when we ran out of boxes and started filling trash bags with totally unrelated items (clothes and frozen food, a plunger and soccer shoes, etc.) it was time to pick my son up from day care, and when we put him in the car seat, a sign of the times, he said: “I donwanna go to Home Depot“. But we did.
We love when guests from out of town come to visit and stay with us for a few days. Especially if it’s family. This was the case over the weekend.
The situation however, didn’t come without its challenges. No, I’m not talking about the fact that the kids stay with us in our room. If you read this shitty blog before, by now you know that the kids would end up in our bed at night anyway.
I’m talking about other things, more important. When you have guests you are unable to: Fart freely, so you have to find all kind of excuses to get out. But even then you are not safe because a neighbor might be outside and would want to start a conversation. So you find yourself stinking up the car because there is nowhere else to go. You pay for it the next morning when you get in to your car , and the farts that were locked in all night, don’t smell like your farts but someone else’s. Get naked, so you have to stay clothed until you go to sleep. My usual dress code at home in underwear, t-shirt optional. Shit when and where you want. We are limited to the bathroom in our bedroom, the one with all the plumbing issues. So every dump has a fifty fifty chance that all the shit from the entire building would rise and spill all over your floor, covering my feet with diarrhea from all walks of life. I shat with the plumbing snake next to me. Jerking off. Is there really more to say? OK, I’ll say more. The first night, The wife helped after the kids were asleep. After that, I was on my own, alone, in the dark, hiding in the bathroom, taking advantage of everybody going out for ten minutes leaving me all alone.
Thing is, that the moment I knew I couldn’t do these things freely, I needed to do them all the time….