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Old Dog’s Tricks

23 Dec

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 Long And Winding Road

19 Nov

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.

Happy Thanksgiving.

* No ducks or cars were harmed during the making of this post.

The Picker

10 Oct

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.

Stop picking your nose

Of Shite and Men

2 Oct

    • Would you like some Champagne?” At first we said no, then they asked again, more firmly and we said yes. A mistake considering that we haven’t had a drink in so long that we forgot how to drink, It was only eleven in the AM, and that it was a birthday party for a three year old. We felt that it was getting too crowded and noisy for our seven months old daughter and tried to leave but we were ordered to “Stay for the cake!” We regretted it shortly after, when our baby had an explosion of diarrhea that went over her clothes. They barely let my wife get out to go to the car, where she found out she didn’t have a change of cloths for the girl. The ride home was great…

 

    • How do you measure pride? Since there is no way of quantifying how proud one is, it has to be compared to other moments to know if it’s More or Less. I was prouder then an athlete’s parents seeing their child as a pro for the first time on TV (“there’s my kid over there…) when I saw my first born sitting on the toilet. Not so much for sitting there, but for doing it while on the iPad. That’s my big boy!

 

    • My friend from California does it to me. We speak once or twice a week, and he never fails me. Winter Spring Summer, or Fall, all I need to do is call, and five minutes into the conversation I have to shit. He is my Shit Trigger or “Shrigger”. “Call Shitty Dad’s Friend From California Today, And Say Goodbye To Constipation! Call today, operators are standing by.”

 

    • To the guy who walks in to our locker room/ restroom at work, just at the time when about a dozen guys are changing to soccer gear, walking into the one available stool with a grin on his face like some fool on a hill, and taking the stinkiest, noisiest shit I have ever smelled and heard in my life. You arrogant prick. I think twice before farting in the car, making sure no one will smell it if I stop at a traffic light. And here you are Mr. “Well, this is what bathrooms are for”, instead of going to the other toilet fifty feet away decide that it’s cool to do it there. Nobody said anything when this was going on but let me tell you something, I saw the looks, and none of us will ever be friends with you.

 

My First Time

1 Sep

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…

Moving

22 Aug

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.

Guests

7 Aug

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….

 

Indian Buffet

29 Jul

I love Indian food. Buffet style especially.
My stomach, not so much.

This is why when i walk into the restaurant I’m always happy, exchanging pleasantries with the staff, throwing a couple of jokes up in the air. I enjoy the food. Take my time, go for a second and sometimes a third serving.
But when I leave I’m always running. Barely making it to the bathroom at home. There were a few cases where my wife had to take over the wheel and drive, because I was afraid that braking would result in a wet fart.

Having kids with you, especially a baby complicates things because a great baby would let you eat without any interruptions, but would get hungry right after that so instead of racing for the car, you now have to sit and feed your child and smile and be nice to all the people who congratulate you on your wonderful kids.
One might ask why don’t I just go to the toilet at the restaurant. There are two parts to the answer. One, this kind of reaction requires a lot of privacy. The second one is that I would hate doing it them. One time, I had to shit so bad after such a lunch buffet, that we had to stop at a Dunkin’ Donuts and use their bathroom. This was a brand new branch that just opened a couple of days before I got there. They were smiling at me when I walked in but not when I left. The place just wasn’t the same again after that.

Oh Shit

22 Jul

1. Toilet Followup– It finally happened. The toilet overflowed. My wife was drying her hair in the bathroom (barefoot of course) when the kid decided to flush. I was in the other room when I heard a big “NOOoo!” that was part warning part realization that it was too late. It was pretty bad when I got there. Everybody was in a state of shock. I was The Wolf only that I was doing the cleaning and not just the planning. The wife was unharmed so I sent her out. The son was deep in shit, literally. By then so was I. I picked him up and put him in the bath. I moved as many things as I could but it already reached the dirty laundry that was piled in the corner. So I used the cloths and a couple of towels for the cleanup- please keep this in mind next time you ask to take a shower at my place! A disinfection was also required. All in all, a good experience.

2. An Interesting sequence with a naked child-

“Take your finger out of your nose.”

“Take your hand out of your mouth.”

“Take your finger out of your tushy.”

“Take your finger out of mommy’s tushy.”

“Mine!”

“No, it’s mom’s”

“DON’T STICK YOUR HAND IN YOUR MOUTH!!!!”

“I am going to give him a bath….”

The Other Woman (Kinda R Rated)

16 Jul


We start touching each other. I don’t know this woman. This feels so good. Natural. We are all alone. Then the clothes comes off, her’s first. It’s like I’m twenty again. I know what is going to happen but I’m still not a hundred percent sure that it will. I am so on! We touch some more. I am not at all concerned about the fact that I’m happily married and a father of two amazing kids. Why am I not feeling guilty? I place my hand between her thighs. She is ready for me. And I’m  for her. Then my wife pushes me. I wake up, and she is telling me that I was snoring (I never snore…). I am on my back, so maybe I was snoring.

I look to my left and see my daughter in the co-sleeper, look to the right and see my son in the middle of the bed and my wife next to him, and understand that under the circumstances I just had a very inappropriate (almost) wet dream.

Judge me not for my dream but for the fact that I’m writing this post on my phone, sitting on the floor in my son’s bedroom, minutes after tucking him in!

 

* I would like to thank my wife, the love of my life for still loving me even after this post.