Tag Archives: being a dad

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!

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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.

Road Trips and Other Thoughts

5 Nov

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.

 

 

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…

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….

 

Namanini

11 Jul

“Wehh ma Namanini?”

We looked everywhere.

“Wehh ma Namanini” means “Where is my Lamborghini”. He is actually pretty good about it, not complaining too much. But we are obsessed. Where could it be? We searched the cars better then an entire Florida CSI team looking for DNA. The rooms, the kitchen, even the fridge was frisked. Nada.

The toilet is clogged. When you flush, more then one person’s poop comes up. Almost to the top. I fucking hate it. I took one of those toilet snakes, stuck it in the crap, and started twisting. You do this and you begin to understand why plumbers charge so much. The water went down. The snake is covered with everything that was in there. How do you clean it? It still won’t flush properly which makes it a pee only bathroom. Of course we forget. So the next morning I’m with the snake again in the shitter. This time it’s working and we can flush again. But as I’m cleaning my work area I start thinking about how the Lamborghini disappeared around the same time that the toilet got clogged and how these two cases might be somehow related, and how thiswill make a great Shitty Dad post.

I’m in the middle of a home inspection (we are trying to buy) and my phone is ringing. It’s my wife. I can’t pick up but she is calling again. She knows I’m busy so it must be important. When I finally answer she is screaming in my ear:”I found the Namanini!” I almost kiss the inspector but somehow keep it together. I came back home, went to the bathroom, and now it’s clogged again.

“Whee ma Beedubeyou (BMW)?”

He sure knows his cars!

Things you know

2 Jul

Stop picking your nose

  • What your foot taste like when you stick it in your mouth.
  • That with young kids, changing the subject does solve the problem.
  • When you see a hot young chick walking towards you, she sees an old weird guy.
  • What the aging feels like. You literally feel it.
  • How to be bipolar on purpose in order to avoid going crazy.
  • That even-though you are tough, you get more emotional then a chick watching the last scene of a chick-flick when your kid tells you he/she loves you.
  • That when you pick your nose and fart in front of your kids, they think it’s a good thing. You should totally control yourself.
  • Most people are shit (yourself included), but try to be nice about it.
  • No matter how hard you try, your kids are still going to grow up to be just like you.
Have more? Do tell!

Another poop story (not for the faint of heart)

27 Jun

Lately, as our plan to purchase our first home moves along , the adult conversation is about down payments, closing costs interest rates etc. Not so was the discussion that took place in the middle of the night a couple of nights ago. I did not remember it in the morning after but my wife’s hard drive is better then mine and she was there to remind me:

Wife: “What was that noise?”

Me: “He just pooped”.

Wife: “Are you sure?”

Me: “His ass is in my face”.

Wife: “Oh shit”.

And shitty it was let me tell ya (he was wearing a diaper thankfully, but still)…

In a related story, last night he was twisting and turning so much in bed ( It is important to mention that my son keeps on sneaking into our bed at night), that at 4:30am I decided to go to his room to sleep on the guest’s futon. Two minutes later he was an inch from my face talking about Robots and Dinosaurs. It smelled awful so I asked him if he pooped to which he proudly replied “Yup!” .This was one of the worst shit mess I’ve seen in a while. It went all over his legs, then he touched it with his hand which he then put on the sofa… What can I say, Morning has broken.