Tag Archives: infant

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.

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What a Shitty Dad

18 Apr

Toilet  seat for shitty dad

After months of slaving around the house, your wife is finally ready to go out with a few girlfriends for dinner at the Cheesecake factory. before she leaves she makes sure that dinner is ready for you and your first born, and that a bottle is ready for the 10 week old who is being handed to you just before she leaves. Shrek is is on  even before the door closes behind your wife, your youngest offspring takes a sip of milk and is already asleep. You take advantage of the sudden freedom, and start stuffing your face with anything within an arms reach. The baby wakes up, the toddler is redecorating the floor with dinner and then it happens. It’s not like you can control it or anything, it’s just there. You have to take a dump. What are you going to do? A two and a half months old infant is sucking milk out of a bottle, and you calculate your every move so you don’t release a wet fart, you must to shit, right now. You leave the bottle and go to the bathroom with the baby in your arms, quickly taking your pants off while balancing the poor bundle of joy. You seat down. Explosion. Relief. You hold the baby sitting up just the way the lactation advisor told your wife to do in a patronizing tone, and when she burps, after putting her through stink hell all you can think is: “Please don’t spit up into my underwear” and she does. You clean the white stain first because it doesn’t look right, and only then you check to see if your own flesh and blood needs her face cleaned. What a shitty dad.