1) Picture the scene. Daisy is in the kitchen with black high heeled shoes, black fish net stockings, a black mini skirt, and a spaghetti strapped black blouse with one of the straps hanging off the shoulder. She has a, yes you guessed it, a black apron on and is leaning her back against the counter facing the stairs. I descend the stairs and look to my left to see her. Her hair is down, streaming over her cheeks, and she is licking a spoon with black melted fudge.
“What would you like for dinner?” She whispers.
“How about a hot steaming plate of you.” I say. She throws her head back and laughs. She stops suddenly only to lower her head down and stare at me with eyes that penetrate my very soul. That’s right. I said penetrate. She growls and I become excited but frightened. She throws the spoonful of hot fudge on my bare chest.
I smile. “That’s downright filthy.”
“I know.”
That is what I imagine dinner time to be. Instead, Daisy yells upstairs, “What do you want for dinner?”
“A hot steaming plate of you!” I yell back.
(Pause)
“I think Fire just pooped his pants.”
2) Speaking of filthy, our car was a pig sty until yesterday. Down right unsanitary. Quite honestly, the health department could have been called for the risk we were putting our boys in. I realized it was bad when I was taking the boys to the gym where they would participate in child care. I quickly grabbed an apple and an apple cutter so they could snack along the way. I cut the apple and gave them each three slices. Beast dropped his on the ground; I picked it up, rubbed off the dirt and gave it back to him.
“Can I still have it?” He asked.
“Of course” I said. Then I looked around on the floor and found a blue plastic bowl to put his pieces in so he wouldn’t drop them. I then found a pink water cup for Fire.
“I’m thirsty” Beast said. Admittedly it was very hot so I grabbed a couple of water cups up from the floor. I was about to fill them up with the hose but thought better of it. Instead of looking through the cupboards I went ahead and filled the cups up with water from the sink. I feel like I’m at confession now. In the past I have been known to let my kids drink day old water if it is still in the cup holders. I don’t want them dehydrated. They have also eaten, without my permission, some of the cheerios left on their seat from previous snacks. I have also let them pee next to the car in the parking lot if a bathroom is not nearby. I’m sorry. But don’t give me the Hail Mary’s just yet.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
(Man/Husband/Father) Filthy Sex II
I found a brochure from September of 2009 when the state fair was being promoted. Shoes, forks, used napkins, wipes, toys, wrappers, an ice scraper, an umbrella, straws, Taco Bell hot sauce packets, and lots of mapquest directions. I see guys detailing their cars on the weekends and it makes me shake my head. My detailing consists of a trash can next to the paper grocery bag (for shoes and clothing) and a vacuum cleaner with the scraper nozzle. The cars now look great by the way. I had been inspired to clean my two cars after noticing our filthy carpet.
3) Cleaning our cars would be more disappointing if they were new and I planned on having them for a while. Instead, these cars are kid friendly. Just like the carpet in our duplex. I’m not worried about how much money I spent on carpet because they will just tear the cheap carpet up when the next person moves in. I know we will eventually buy a new car and be in a house I do not want dirty. And I know it may just be a different kind of dirt like soccer cleats and sweat. But at least it won’t be urine and feces from a potty training Fire. However, vomit may come into the picture from a car sick kid. Moving on.
My brother-in-law loaned me a carpet cleaner and so I cleaned our living room. Pretty disgusting water at the end of all. Who knew? I thought it was fascinating while Daisy could barely watch as I poured it down the drain. Speaking of filthy carpet how about filthy kids?
4) We have an excuse in not giving our kids a bath every day. They both have eczema and it dries their skin out. But there are times when we look at each other and say, “When was the last time they were bathed?” I think getting into a squirt gun fight is just as good. Daisy doesn’t think so. Surely a hose fight. Not so. A kiddy pool immersion? No. So we put them in the tub and experience Fire who splashes vigorously, fills up water and pours it out onto the floor, unplugs the drain, drinks the dirty water, stands up, and may even decide it is a good place to poop. We take him out and he fights us in a very robust manner while we try to apply his eczema lotion. A greased pig rolling around on the carpet. I’m pretty sure hog tying is illegal but I’m not even sure it would help. Speaking of filthy boys may I tell you about my filthy teeth?
5) My teeth are green and have been known to fall out because of infection. I just don’t like brushing because it is such a chore. Kidding of course. So I go to the dentist to get a routine cleaning. I lay in the chair; she points the light into my mouth and starts to work. I look at the ceiling, out the window; listen to a child screaming in the office next door, and eventually into the eyes of the woman with the goggles and surgical mask on. I blush because she is inches away from my face and is very pretty. I mean, what could be more intimate then that? Cleaning my filthy teeth and my saying,“Yu ha rity I”. After she took her surgically gloved hands out of my mouth I sat up and said, “I know we had an intimate moment just now but….."
“We had a wh………?”
“SSShhhhh” I put my index finger on her lips. “Let’s not ruin it with words.” And with that I walked out and never looked back.
3) Cleaning our cars would be more disappointing if they were new and I planned on having them for a while. Instead, these cars are kid friendly. Just like the carpet in our duplex. I’m not worried about how much money I spent on carpet because they will just tear the cheap carpet up when the next person moves in. I know we will eventually buy a new car and be in a house I do not want dirty. And I know it may just be a different kind of dirt like soccer cleats and sweat. But at least it won’t be urine and feces from a potty training Fire. However, vomit may come into the picture from a car sick kid. Moving on.
My brother-in-law loaned me a carpet cleaner and so I cleaned our living room. Pretty disgusting water at the end of all. Who knew? I thought it was fascinating while Daisy could barely watch as I poured it down the drain. Speaking of filthy carpet how about filthy kids?
4) We have an excuse in not giving our kids a bath every day. They both have eczema and it dries their skin out. But there are times when we look at each other and say, “When was the last time they were bathed?” I think getting into a squirt gun fight is just as good. Daisy doesn’t think so. Surely a hose fight. Not so. A kiddy pool immersion? No. So we put them in the tub and experience Fire who splashes vigorously, fills up water and pours it out onto the floor, unplugs the drain, drinks the dirty water, stands up, and may even decide it is a good place to poop. We take him out and he fights us in a very robust manner while we try to apply his eczema lotion. A greased pig rolling around on the carpet. I’m pretty sure hog tying is illegal but I’m not even sure it would help. Speaking of filthy boys may I tell you about my filthy teeth?
5) My teeth are green and have been known to fall out because of infection. I just don’t like brushing because it is such a chore. Kidding of course. So I go to the dentist to get a routine cleaning. I lay in the chair; she points the light into my mouth and starts to work. I look at the ceiling, out the window; listen to a child screaming in the office next door, and eventually into the eyes of the woman with the goggles and surgical mask on. I blush because she is inches away from my face and is very pretty. I mean, what could be more intimate then that? Cleaning my filthy teeth and my saying,“Yu ha rity I”. After she took her surgically gloved hands out of my mouth I sat up and said, “I know we had an intimate moment just now but….."
“We had a wh………?”
“SSShhhhh” I put my index finger on her lips. “Let’s not ruin it with words.” And with that I walked out and never looked back.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
(Man) Pack
I want to thank all who have come back to visit. Daisy said I was more engaged with the family this last week so that was good to hear. Anyway, more of an opinion blog today. Hope you don't mind.
Wolf packs are hierarchical social structures with an "alpha", subordinate "beta" wolves and a low ranking "omega" which bares the brunt of the pack's aggression. The alpha wolf is given preference to be the first to eat and the first to mate. A beta wolf will act as a new alpha if the old alpha dies. Omega bares the brunt of the pack's aggression, is subordinated to all others in the community, and is the last allowed to eat.
Please excuse me if I make an exaggerated parallel to men. I certainly would not say a leader of a group of men would eat his Taco Bell first while expecting the least respected man on the totem pole to wait until he was done. However, there is a lot to say regarding men who do things together and the dynamic that occurs when it happens. I have traveled with man packs and enjoy the feeling of making a presence when walking into a bar, movie theatre, or even in the outdoors such as fishing or snowboarding. There is something that is satisfying when I am part of a social system with men I enjoy being with. But it really sucks when the Alpha male has a fragile ego which, in turn, means the group of men are less likely to feel comfortable with who they are. They are also more likely to protect the ego of their leader when others may appear to threaten it. But, human relationships are so important it is sometimes better to stay with an emotionally/spiritually unhealthy group than to chance being alone for a while.
In the hierarchy of men I don’t think the emotionally/spiritually healthiest of the group becomes the alpha. In fact, because men are very sensitive to shame, and especially fear shame/embarrassment in front of other men, the alpha may find a way to achieve status by withholding shame from members who appease him once they know he is capable of it. There may two guys who fight for the top spot which makes thing complex. In more primitive of groups it may actually be a fight including but not limited to the ideas, developed skills, or perhaps the most successful ($) man. Alpha achievement is also a social game. This is especially annoying to watch. When I see guys trying to be top dogs (peacocks blooming their feathers) I just want to say, “Hey guys, drop your pants, let’s see who has the biggest penis, and then we can get on with it.” But it is not always in the traditional sense of manly men with big trucks but also with computer programmers who fight over whether a Mac or pc is best and who might know the most about either. Most men are happy enough to be with a group of guys (betas) and may not even care about being the alpha. However, unbeknownst to their conscious mind, betas will position themselves in the hierarchy until the rhythm of the group is established. The rhythm will then need to be reestablished if a man leaves or enters the group.
I don’t think anybody fights to the omega man in the group but some guys don’t mind getting teased or chastised if it means they still belong. What perked my interest in wolves was a nature program I saw that pointed out, through their behavior, who the alpha, betas, and omega were in a specific pack they had followed. The pack would nip at the omega, chase the omega and, as mentioned before, would leave him the scraps after everyone had their fill of food. But what is most interesting is what happened when the omega died. The pack became depressed and essentially mourned the death of their companion for at least two weeks. The omega served a purpose in that he kept the pack in balance. There cannot be a pack without an omega or an alpha. A beta would now have to take the omega’s place.
I respect my fellow brothers but sometimes it appears as if there is a correlation with lower intelligence (higher risk behaviors) as the number of men in the group increases. The context of the group setting is important depending on if it is a Bachelor party in Vegas or going to dinner at Denny's. I hope not to appear as if I am immune or incredibly judgemental. But sometimes it is nice to take as step back and laugh at our own human behavior.
Now I want all of you to know there are no scientific sources I can cite to support any of what I have said. I’m simply popping off with opinions. I am led to believe women may have their own pecking order but it may be more subtle, and from what I understand, incredibly cruel and certainly not as overt as men’s misguided behavior. Am I right in this?
Wolf packs are hierarchical social structures with an "alpha", subordinate "beta" wolves and a low ranking "omega" which bares the brunt of the pack's aggression. The alpha wolf is given preference to be the first to eat and the first to mate. A beta wolf will act as a new alpha if the old alpha dies. Omega bares the brunt of the pack's aggression, is subordinated to all others in the community, and is the last allowed to eat.
Please excuse me if I make an exaggerated parallel to men. I certainly would not say a leader of a group of men would eat his Taco Bell first while expecting the least respected man on the totem pole to wait until he was done. However, there is a lot to say regarding men who do things together and the dynamic that occurs when it happens. I have traveled with man packs and enjoy the feeling of making a presence when walking into a bar, movie theatre, or even in the outdoors such as fishing or snowboarding. There is something that is satisfying when I am part of a social system with men I enjoy being with. But it really sucks when the Alpha male has a fragile ego which, in turn, means the group of men are less likely to feel comfortable with who they are. They are also more likely to protect the ego of their leader when others may appear to threaten it. But, human relationships are so important it is sometimes better to stay with an emotionally/spiritually unhealthy group than to chance being alone for a while.
In the hierarchy of men I don’t think the emotionally/spiritually healthiest of the group becomes the alpha. In fact, because men are very sensitive to shame, and especially fear shame/embarrassment in front of other men, the alpha may find a way to achieve status by withholding shame from members who appease him once they know he is capable of it. There may two guys who fight for the top spot which makes thing complex. In more primitive of groups it may actually be a fight including but not limited to the ideas, developed skills, or perhaps the most successful ($) man. Alpha achievement is also a social game. This is especially annoying to watch. When I see guys trying to be top dogs (peacocks blooming their feathers) I just want to say, “Hey guys, drop your pants, let’s see who has the biggest penis, and then we can get on with it.” But it is not always in the traditional sense of manly men with big trucks but also with computer programmers who fight over whether a Mac or pc is best and who might know the most about either. Most men are happy enough to be with a group of guys (betas) and may not even care about being the alpha. However, unbeknownst to their conscious mind, betas will position themselves in the hierarchy until the rhythm of the group is established. The rhythm will then need to be reestablished if a man leaves or enters the group.
I don’t think anybody fights to the omega man in the group but some guys don’t mind getting teased or chastised if it means they still belong. What perked my interest in wolves was a nature program I saw that pointed out, through their behavior, who the alpha, betas, and omega were in a specific pack they had followed. The pack would nip at the omega, chase the omega and, as mentioned before, would leave him the scraps after everyone had their fill of food. But what is most interesting is what happened when the omega died. The pack became depressed and essentially mourned the death of their companion for at least two weeks. The omega served a purpose in that he kept the pack in balance. There cannot be a pack without an omega or an alpha. A beta would now have to take the omega’s place.
I respect my fellow brothers but sometimes it appears as if there is a correlation with lower intelligence (higher risk behaviors) as the number of men in the group increases. The context of the group setting is important depending on if it is a Bachelor party in Vegas or going to dinner at Denny's. I hope not to appear as if I am immune or incredibly judgemental. But sometimes it is nice to take as step back and laugh at our own human behavior.
Now I want all of you to know there are no scientific sources I can cite to support any of what I have said. I’m simply popping off with opinions. I am led to believe women may have their own pecking order but it may be more subtle, and from what I understand, incredibly cruel and certainly not as overt as men’s misguided behavior. Am I right in this?
Monday, July 19, 2010
(Husband/Father/Son/Brother/Man) Time Out
Last Monday I saw that 125 people had visited my blog on one day. I didn't start this blog to attract hundreds of readers but I was encouraged to see so many people enjoying what I found to be fun & amusing topics. And despite the fact I have many more topics to write about and am in the habit of scripting lines in my mind as I go along the day, I'm going to take a week break.
Before inviting a client into the therapy room I usually take 5 seconds to "center" myself. I close my eyes, take a few deep breathes, and relax my muscles in preparation for our interaction. Maintaining a balance in between differing moods I may have at the moment. A centered and peaceful place. My week long break is to find that center again. I hope to see you return. Wish me luck.
Before inviting a client into the therapy room I usually take 5 seconds to "center" myself. I close my eyes, take a few deep breathes, and relax my muscles in preparation for our interaction. Maintaining a balance in between differing moods I may have at the moment. A centered and peaceful place. My week long break is to find that center again. I hope to see you return. Wish me luck.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
(Man) Pimping my Blog
If you are returning to this blog then evidently you were not repulsed by its simple design. I have read in several places that people may not respect what you have to say if you don't have a design on your blog that commands a certain amount of creativity, and ultimately, respect. I guess my old blog design was like showing up to a job interview with cut off jean shorts and an undershirt with yellow pit stains. With this new layout from the cutest blog on the block (see upper left hand corner) I believe I have moved up to business casual. Or at least backyard BBQ guest style with classy jeans and a polo shirt with a crocodile on the pocket . Daisy said it kind of, "looked girly" but I said I could weather any criticism thrown my way. Then I thought, maybe I am a woman. Some would say it is too late but I don't think so.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
(Son) Naughty II
Eggs were on sale for cheap. My two friends and I thought egging houses would be fun that night. Imagine Beavis and Butthead coming up to your check out counter. “What neighborhood do you live in?” she said as she was ringing up our eggs.
“Ummmm why?”
“Here is the area of town I live in, please don’t egg my house.”
“OK. He He He.” That isn’t even where we were egging and she thinks we are doing her a favor. “He He He”.
Anyway, we egg houses that night and go to sleep. My dad woke us all up and said, “We are going to wash some cars this morning.” Evidently there was a guy in the neighborhood where we egged that couldn’t sleep and went out to his garage. He saw us walk by at 1:00 am and found it suspicious. Hhhhmmm….really? He saw me flick 4 eggs onto his RV and somehow tracked us down. My house was at least 4 miles from there. I distinctly remember the house because I flicked the last four eggs, out of hundreds, onto the vehicle. But it wasn’t his RV we were to wash. My dad drove us down to a house around the corner from there. It had a unique looking red door I had not forgotten. We egged that door with several eggs. Why? Because it was unique and red. Out stepped an old man with a cane and his elderly wife walking behind him. I don’t know how my friends felt but my heart dropped. We began washing their vehicles with all adults watching. The owners of the house had already cleaned their door but it smelled absolutely awful. When we finished the man limped over to us and smiled. He didn’t say a word. He simply patted us all on the back and went inside. That was worse than any screaming lecture. Let me now tell you about a screaming lecture that lasted a few hours.
My bad behavior caught up with me and so I was on probation. Part of my probation included touring a state prison. I showed up and rolled my eyes at what I had to sign. It said something like if I were taken hostage they would not try to save me from the prisoner’s evil clutches. “Oh great” I thought, “Scared straight. Just get through it Goose.” My tour included going down long hallways of imprisoned men who spoke to me in a sexual way. They said I had certain female parts they would like to take part in which was not pleasant to hear. I was scared but there was no part of me that showed it. That made the prison guards mad. When it was just me and another guard walking down a stretch of the prison he said, “Aren’t you scared?” I think I may have just shrugged. I don’t know if the next part was part of the program or just for me but I walked into a large area where the prison cells could be seen two stories up surrounding the borders of the area. They guards surrounded me and took turns getting into my face and screaming. I didn’t know what happened next until later but I sincerely dissociated. I didn’t hear a word they said. I remembered one particular man who screamed at me the loudest because it had spittle running down his chin. It was as if time slowed down so I could study the intricacies of his face. His furrowed brow, the lines on his cheeks, the 3 day stubbled beard, and oh yeah the flying saliva. Anybody remember the movie Turner and Hooch? Maybe the movie Beethoven? I was probably thinking about what I was going to have for lunch when someone interrupted and said the yelling was over. I imagine it was fun for the guards to have the monotony of the day broken up for them and to feel a cathartic peace in their souls while also feeling as if they did their good deed for the day.
I went home and had to write a report on what I saw, heard, and felt about my experience. I looked at the yellow writing tablet with the pencil’s eraser in my mouth. I then set it down on the counter and flipped on daytime television. I’ll be damned if I could remember much of what happened that day.
“Ummmm why?”
“Here is the area of town I live in, please don’t egg my house.”
“OK. He He He.” That isn’t even where we were egging and she thinks we are doing her a favor. “He He He”.
Anyway, we egg houses that night and go to sleep. My dad woke us all up and said, “We are going to wash some cars this morning.” Evidently there was a guy in the neighborhood where we egged that couldn’t sleep and went out to his garage. He saw us walk by at 1:00 am and found it suspicious. Hhhhmmm….really? He saw me flick 4 eggs onto his RV and somehow tracked us down. My house was at least 4 miles from there. I distinctly remember the house because I flicked the last four eggs, out of hundreds, onto the vehicle. But it wasn’t his RV we were to wash. My dad drove us down to a house around the corner from there. It had a unique looking red door I had not forgotten. We egged that door with several eggs. Why? Because it was unique and red. Out stepped an old man with a cane and his elderly wife walking behind him. I don’t know how my friends felt but my heart dropped. We began washing their vehicles with all adults watching. The owners of the house had already cleaned their door but it smelled absolutely awful. When we finished the man limped over to us and smiled. He didn’t say a word. He simply patted us all on the back and went inside. That was worse than any screaming lecture. Let me now tell you about a screaming lecture that lasted a few hours.
My bad behavior caught up with me and so I was on probation. Part of my probation included touring a state prison. I showed up and rolled my eyes at what I had to sign. It said something like if I were taken hostage they would not try to save me from the prisoner’s evil clutches. “Oh great” I thought, “Scared straight. Just get through it Goose.” My tour included going down long hallways of imprisoned men who spoke to me in a sexual way. They said I had certain female parts they would like to take part in which was not pleasant to hear. I was scared but there was no part of me that showed it. That made the prison guards mad. When it was just me and another guard walking down a stretch of the prison he said, “Aren’t you scared?” I think I may have just shrugged. I don’t know if the next part was part of the program or just for me but I walked into a large area where the prison cells could be seen two stories up surrounding the borders of the area. They guards surrounded me and took turns getting into my face and screaming. I didn’t know what happened next until later but I sincerely dissociated. I didn’t hear a word they said. I remembered one particular man who screamed at me the loudest because it had spittle running down his chin. It was as if time slowed down so I could study the intricacies of his face. His furrowed brow, the lines on his cheeks, the 3 day stubbled beard, and oh yeah the flying saliva. Anybody remember the movie Turner and Hooch? Maybe the movie Beethoven? I was probably thinking about what I was going to have for lunch when someone interrupted and said the yelling was over. I imagine it was fun for the guards to have the monotony of the day broken up for them and to feel a cathartic peace in their souls while also feeling as if they did their good deed for the day.
I went home and had to write a report on what I saw, heard, and felt about my experience. I looked at the yellow writing tablet with the pencil’s eraser in my mouth. I then set it down on the counter and flipped on daytime television. I’ll be damned if I could remember much of what happened that day.
(Son) Naughty
Before I begin, I want to thank all of you who have had me on their prayer list in regard to my scrotum. I think everything is going to be OK so you can send that message down the prayer chain. I have already had several people do a prayer walk around my house and while I do appreciate the sentiment, you are starting to scare the children. With that said, I shall begin.
As a 15 year old lad I was placed into a class for potential dropouts. I wasn’t outwardly obstinate as much as passive aggressive. During the day I would smile at teachers and be friendly. I would say things like, “Your right, I should show up to school more. I’m really sorry.” and then walk out of school once they had their back turned. Night time was the right time for destruction and I’m willing to bet some of you have been the victims of teenage, or what you suspect were teenage, unruly behavior.
I was driving to work today when Daisy called and asked if I had taken down the pirate flag in front of our garage. We had left it up after the party because it was big and looked cool for the kids whenever we came home. I said no and it didn’t take but a second to realize what had happened. Teenagers. Those damn teenagers took it and I was not at all happy. Do I have an idea as to what teenagers? No. I just knew they were. Godforsaken teenagers who are headed straight into the bowels of hell. Y’know what I would like to do my blog reading/writing family? Do whatever it would take to make them p*ss their britches. I don’t know, maybe put a trash can on their head and beat it with a bat. Maybe some of you have felt the same way. The question is usually why. Why would someone feel the urge to steal or vandalize __________?
As a young felon I can say it is an incredibly selfish act that has nothing to do with the people who own the object other than we found some need to gratify our anger or else be gratified by someone else being angry. And I can’t say it is only limited to disorderly teenagers. I believe adults display destructive behavior born out of anger with the only difference being a more sophisticated excuse for being an a**.
Daisy said she would have considered giving the flag to the people if they had just asked. But it isn’t about the flag as much as the excitement that makes me forget them forget the disgust they have for life at the time. These teenagers will not all end up in the bowels of hell like I had hoped after hearing about the flag. And thank God. Because some day they may even end up being my responsible neighbors across the street.
(Sigh)
Am I saying boys/girls will be boys/girls and not to worry? No. But, for most, these kids have hearts despite the callousness they may display (“I don’t care”) and harshness by authority is what is expected. I want to end with two short stories.
As a 15 year old lad I was placed into a class for potential dropouts. I wasn’t outwardly obstinate as much as passive aggressive. During the day I would smile at teachers and be friendly. I would say things like, “Your right, I should show up to school more. I’m really sorry.” and then walk out of school once they had their back turned. Night time was the right time for destruction and I’m willing to bet some of you have been the victims of teenage, or what you suspect were teenage, unruly behavior.
I was driving to work today when Daisy called and asked if I had taken down the pirate flag in front of our garage. We had left it up after the party because it was big and looked cool for the kids whenever we came home. I said no and it didn’t take but a second to realize what had happened. Teenagers. Those damn teenagers took it and I was not at all happy. Do I have an idea as to what teenagers? No. I just knew they were. Godforsaken teenagers who are headed straight into the bowels of hell. Y’know what I would like to do my blog reading/writing family? Do whatever it would take to make them p*ss their britches. I don’t know, maybe put a trash can on their head and beat it with a bat. Maybe some of you have felt the same way. The question is usually why. Why would someone feel the urge to steal or vandalize __________?
As a young felon I can say it is an incredibly selfish act that has nothing to do with the people who own the object other than we found some need to gratify our anger or else be gratified by someone else being angry. And I can’t say it is only limited to disorderly teenagers. I believe adults display destructive behavior born out of anger with the only difference being a more sophisticated excuse for being an a**.
Daisy said she would have considered giving the flag to the people if they had just asked. But it isn’t about the flag as much as the excitement that makes me forget them forget the disgust they have for life at the time. These teenagers will not all end up in the bowels of hell like I had hoped after hearing about the flag. And thank God. Because some day they may even end up being my responsible neighbors across the street.
(Sigh)
Am I saying boys/girls will be boys/girls and not to worry? No. But, for most, these kids have hearts despite the callousness they may display (“I don’t care”) and harshness by authority is what is expected. I want to end with two short stories.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
(Father) Bobblehead
Daisy and I found ourselves in a good cop/bad cop situation. Fire is potty trained to pee in the toilet but defecating is a whole ‘nother story. So Daisy is cajoling Fire to poop and I came in and was a little forceful in my tone. It really is the worst thing you can do but I had locked horns with him and was too stubborn to be the adult and let him “win”. I walked away and came back. Daisy used me as the bad cop and it seemed to work in the moment since he pooped for the first time ever. Evidently he did not want me to come back a third time. I was to find out the next day I had won the battle but not the war. Daisy went to work and I was to spend the day taking care of the kids. I was going to take Fire for a simple pee pee on the potty when he freaked out and began crying in the most pathetic tone I had ever heard. There are different kinds of crying that I can live with but this one cut deep within my heart. He was so desperately scared of me helping him to the bathroom.
I took a step back and said, “Play therapy to the rescue”. I need to say that therapy with your child is a big no no. In fact, I shouldn’t even say therapy. It is less therapeutic as it is behavioral for curiosity sake. Very very light. Let me explain. I set the scene of mommy, daddy, and Fire in the bathroom and set an object down as the toilet. He picked me as the bobble head, Daisy as the pirate, and he as both Anakin Skywalker and the dinosaur. I had Anakin and the dinosaur on the toilet and the pirate in front of him. I came in the imaginary door and said, “Here comes daddy.” Immediately Anakin jumped off the toilet and sliced at my neck with the light saber about 20 times. I would imagine the bobble head would be decapitated after 20 slices but maybe not. I say maybe not because the dinosaur them jumped on me and chewed on my throat for about 20 seconds. “Well that was bit much” I thought.
He took his henchmen back to the potty and left my carcass to rot. I was picking up my bobble head when both Anakin and dinosaur attacked me again. After Anakin was done with me the dinosaur ate my throat out and both returned to their potty (lair). In the third attempt to pick my bobble head up Fire did it again in the same order. For some reason it seemed only right that Anakin would get the first opportunity and the dinosaur would finish me off if, by some miracle, I had survived. “A bit of Narrative Therapy sprinkled in should help” I thought. In the most crude of explanations, Narrative therapy helps a child change the outcome of a story from negative to a positive with the help from an adult. In its very light form it is reframing. This is what I did. I asked Fire not to attack the bobble head and to let me get up. He did. I then took my bobble head and came into the bathroom in a very nice way and said, “Can you go poo poo?”
“No.” He said
“That’s OK.” I said. “I love you.”
Fire looked at me suspiciously and whispered, “I wuv you too.”
“Can you go potty with daddy now?”
Again, suspicion on his face. He walked to the bathroom and let me help him. I was sugar sweet and I counted myself very lucky. Hopefully his wish of killing me in the most violent of ways has disappeared from his imagination.
I took a step back and said, “Play therapy to the rescue”. I need to say that therapy with your child is a big no no. In fact, I shouldn’t even say therapy. It is less therapeutic as it is behavioral for curiosity sake. Very very light. Let me explain. I set the scene of mommy, daddy, and Fire in the bathroom and set an object down as the toilet. He picked me as the bobble head, Daisy as the pirate, and he as both Anakin Skywalker and the dinosaur. I had Anakin and the dinosaur on the toilet and the pirate in front of him. I came in the imaginary door and said, “Here comes daddy.” Immediately Anakin jumped off the toilet and sliced at my neck with the light saber about 20 times. I would imagine the bobble head would be decapitated after 20 slices but maybe not. I say maybe not because the dinosaur them jumped on me and chewed on my throat for about 20 seconds. “Well that was bit much” I thought.
He took his henchmen back to the potty and left my carcass to rot. I was picking up my bobble head when both Anakin and dinosaur attacked me again. After Anakin was done with me the dinosaur ate my throat out and both returned to their potty (lair). In the third attempt to pick my bobble head up Fire did it again in the same order. For some reason it seemed only right that Anakin would get the first opportunity and the dinosaur would finish me off if, by some miracle, I had survived. “A bit of Narrative Therapy sprinkled in should help” I thought. In the most crude of explanations, Narrative therapy helps a child change the outcome of a story from negative to a positive with the help from an adult. In its very light form it is reframing. This is what I did. I asked Fire not to attack the bobble head and to let me get up. He did. I then took my bobble head and came into the bathroom in a very nice way and said, “Can you go poo poo?”
“No.” He said
“That’s OK.” I said. “I love you.”
Fire looked at me suspiciously and whispered, “I wuv you too.”
“Can you go potty with daddy now?”
Again, suspicion on his face. He walked to the bathroom and let me help him. I was sugar sweet and I counted myself very lucky. Hopefully his wish of killing me in the most violent of ways has disappeared from his imagination.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
(Ex-Husband) Bachelorette
Jen Henderson commented on my blog regarding a post I had written that mentioned the Bachelor. She directed me to her post on the dream of being the next Bachelorette. I decided to write through the character of Keith whom she mentions as being a potential love interest.
https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8651740630653159482&postID=2556409731609581315
Jen’s perspective:
Opening Scene
Me silhouetted on a sunlit beach. I'm jogging and stopping every few feet because when I jog I start to pee. My swimsuit is a black one piece from Lane Bryant and skirted to hide my thighs and hips. Off camera the producer is dangling a meatball sandwich so that I'll run towards the camera.
Voice Over from Chris Harrison
"Jennifer Henderson may not be our typical Bachelorette but America has fallen in love with this 33 year old stay at home mother of two. One woman and 25 men who are all at least 10 years her junior will attempt to find love in this season's most dramatic quest for love yet".
Now me blending into her story:
First Scene: Cocktail Party
My name is Keith. I’m a high fiving white guy who drinks too much. I saw Jen on last season’s Bachelor and felt rather sorry for her. At the time she was pregnant and looked rather…..round. I happen to have a thing (fetish) for women who are pregnant and desperate. She reminded me a lot of my mom who preferred I called her by her first name in public so other men wouldn’t think she had kids. Then it happened. She walked through the French doors with her newborn. I applaud her because everyone else is and because I am nervous to finally see her. “Man she has guts” I think to myself. I need to show interest in the baby to get further on the show.
I interrupt some guy (Jack) who asked when she was going to, “Loose the baby fat”. I felt confident in my interruption because I know she is not interested in a guy who wants her to be someone else. All I want is her. I hand her a blended drink and say, "Can I steal you away?" and she said “yes”. I looked over my shoulder to see Jack flip me off. I didn’t care. Y’know why? Because I’m not here to impress these idiots. I’m here for Jen.
We walked to the dimly lit pool area and she decides to start nursing the baby. I am both repulsed and slightly intrigued. For a second I wonder what it would be like to be the baby but shake myself out of it. “You are a dirty son of a bi*ch Keith” I say to myself. Then the dandruff shampoo line came to me. You only have one chance to make a great first impression. I decide this is the perfect time to embarrass myself in front of her. Maybe I can gain a sympathy vote. In the middle of the song I wish I had brushed up on my 6th grade clarinet skills. After the lullaby I panic and say, "I know I just met you but I feel this connection to you. I hope I will get a rose tonight; I want to share my life with you and will be suicidal if you let me go tonight". I felt better because this was the way I kept my last girlfriend for another 4 or 5 months. I also felt as if I had “left it all out there” and gave it my best shot. She was desperate on the last show so I thought she would understand that we were the same.
She put her breast away and handed me the baby. I was immediately nervous and held that tiny, innocent, tender, soft, well fed, and wide eyed doe in my arms. After holding Jen I felt better and took the baby. Off she went to flirt with other men. “Don’t worry little one.” I said. “She’s coming back.” But she didn’t come back. Whenever I tried to find her the other guys told me she was making out with some other dude. I justified it in my mind, “I guess she has some seeds to sow. Maybe she is not as confident in herself since she was used and thrown away by the last Bachelor. Maybe it’s nice to receive this extra attention.”
“She pawned off her baby on ya huh?” Jack said.
“She didn’t pawn the baby off on me. When she handed me the baby I knew she was putting her trust in me. She was letting me know that she felt a connection between us...she felt the spark too. She was essentially handing me her heart.”
Scene 3: The Rose Ceremony
Chris walks in and stands next to her. Chris is so awesome. “Gentlemen, this is the final rose. Jen, when you're ready.”
She is standing holding the final rose. Her toddler is clinging to her leg and I’m still holding this parasite.
She said "Jack." with a bittersweet smile. Jack walked forward, "Jack, will you accept this rose?" "You know it" he replies. He turns around and gives me an upward nod.
Chris walks in and stands next to her again. I hate Chris. "Gentlemen, if you did not receive a rose tonight please come say your goodbyes".
I walk towards her with tears running down my cheeks. I hand the leech to her. "I hope you rot in hell.”
She smiles and kissed me on the cheek. “Who are you, Judas?” I say.
As I walked away a large noise is heard and a guy storms through the doors. He said, "What the hell are all of you doing? Jen, why are the kids still up?”
“So this is the father, eh?” Jen started to cry. “Good luck with that one”. I scream.
“Dammit Jen, somebody better tell me what's going on here".
“Hmmmm…. I happen to have a thing (fetish) for men who are jealous and angry.”
https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8651740630653159482&postID=2556409731609581315
Jen’s perspective:
Opening Scene
Me silhouetted on a sunlit beach. I'm jogging and stopping every few feet because when I jog I start to pee. My swimsuit is a black one piece from Lane Bryant and skirted to hide my thighs and hips. Off camera the producer is dangling a meatball sandwich so that I'll run towards the camera.
Voice Over from Chris Harrison
"Jennifer Henderson may not be our typical Bachelorette but America has fallen in love with this 33 year old stay at home mother of two. One woman and 25 men who are all at least 10 years her junior will attempt to find love in this season's most dramatic quest for love yet".
Now me blending into her story:
First Scene: Cocktail Party
My name is Keith. I’m a high fiving white guy who drinks too much. I saw Jen on last season’s Bachelor and felt rather sorry for her. At the time she was pregnant and looked rather…..round. I happen to have a thing (fetish) for women who are pregnant and desperate. She reminded me a lot of my mom who preferred I called her by her first name in public so other men wouldn’t think she had kids. Then it happened. She walked through the French doors with her newborn. I applaud her because everyone else is and because I am nervous to finally see her. “Man she has guts” I think to myself. I need to show interest in the baby to get further on the show.
I interrupt some guy (Jack) who asked when she was going to, “Loose the baby fat”. I felt confident in my interruption because I know she is not interested in a guy who wants her to be someone else. All I want is her. I hand her a blended drink and say, "Can I steal you away?" and she said “yes”. I looked over my shoulder to see Jack flip me off. I didn’t care. Y’know why? Because I’m not here to impress these idiots. I’m here for Jen.
We walked to the dimly lit pool area and she decides to start nursing the baby. I am both repulsed and slightly intrigued. For a second I wonder what it would be like to be the baby but shake myself out of it. “You are a dirty son of a bi*ch Keith” I say to myself. Then the dandruff shampoo line came to me. You only have one chance to make a great first impression. I decide this is the perfect time to embarrass myself in front of her. Maybe I can gain a sympathy vote. In the middle of the song I wish I had brushed up on my 6th grade clarinet skills. After the lullaby I panic and say, "I know I just met you but I feel this connection to you. I hope I will get a rose tonight; I want to share my life with you and will be suicidal if you let me go tonight". I felt better because this was the way I kept my last girlfriend for another 4 or 5 months. I also felt as if I had “left it all out there” and gave it my best shot. She was desperate on the last show so I thought she would understand that we were the same.
She put her breast away and handed me the baby. I was immediately nervous and held that tiny, innocent, tender, soft, well fed, and wide eyed doe in my arms. After holding Jen I felt better and took the baby. Off she went to flirt with other men. “Don’t worry little one.” I said. “She’s coming back.” But she didn’t come back. Whenever I tried to find her the other guys told me she was making out with some other dude. I justified it in my mind, “I guess she has some seeds to sow. Maybe she is not as confident in herself since she was used and thrown away by the last Bachelor. Maybe it’s nice to receive this extra attention.”
“She pawned off her baby on ya huh?” Jack said.
“She didn’t pawn the baby off on me. When she handed me the baby I knew she was putting her trust in me. She was letting me know that she felt a connection between us...she felt the spark too. She was essentially handing me her heart.”
Scene 3: The Rose Ceremony
Chris walks in and stands next to her. Chris is so awesome. “Gentlemen, this is the final rose. Jen, when you're ready.”
She is standing holding the final rose. Her toddler is clinging to her leg and I’m still holding this parasite.
She said "Jack." with a bittersweet smile. Jack walked forward, "Jack, will you accept this rose?" "You know it" he replies. He turns around and gives me an upward nod.
Chris walks in and stands next to her again. I hate Chris. "Gentlemen, if you did not receive a rose tonight please come say your goodbyes".
I walk towards her with tears running down my cheeks. I hand the leech to her. "I hope you rot in hell.”
She smiles and kissed me on the cheek. “Who are you, Judas?” I say.
As I walked away a large noise is heard and a guy storms through the doors. He said, "What the hell are all of you doing? Jen, why are the kids still up?”
“So this is the father, eh?” Jen started to cry. “Good luck with that one”. I scream.
“Dammit Jen, somebody better tell me what's going on here".
“Hmmmm…. I happen to have a thing (fetish) for men who are jealous and angry.”
Monday, July 12, 2010
(Father) The Tortoise and the Hare
I haven’t posted because the family and I went on a little camping trip and surrounded ourselves with even more family. I think this is the 6th annual. We have to rent a gigantic field with about 6 fire pits to fit everyone. You can go the whole weekend without having spoken to a few people because you didn’t have the time. There are plenty of things to talk about regarding camping such the volleyball expert who instructs everyone, in the middle of the game, on how to play saying things like, “That’s not in the official rules”. Bottom line? Takes a p*ss on fun. At the campfire there is the conversation dominator who has something to say about every subject and doesn’t leave room for others to speak. There is also the guy who brought his segway but I won’t harp on him too much because it was surprisingly fun.
What I will talk about is Daisy speed vs. Goose speed when getting out the door with children in tow. This has been an area of conflict that we go ‘round and ‘round about almost every time we have to leave and we have not been able to break the cycle. I would be more than happy if Daisy were a bit more relaxed and Daisy wishes I was able to rev up to warp speed thinking ten steps ahead.
I’ll give a couple of examples from my day today. Daisy and I have been together almost 14 years so I will explain what I did and take a well educated guess as to Daisy’s way of thinking. I had an appt with the mechanic at 10 o’clock am and it was 8:45 am when I started getting ready.
Goose: “Where are Fire’s shoes? I brought the blue ones in from our camping gear so I will check the garage.” I want Fire’s blue pair because I know they fit or else we would not have had them on the trip. I check the garage, his room, our room and Beast’s room along with both bathrooms. Nothing.
Switch scene
Daisy: “Where are Fire’s shoes? I brought the blue ones in from our camping gear and know they are in the back of his closet. Beast had them in his hands last night and I told them where they go. I saw him Beast throw one to the left where it sat on his grey dress shoe and one to the right where it then became covered by his red sandal. I will now proceed to put the shoes on him.”
Switch scene
Goose: “I’m going to the shoe pile to find another pair. Here is a pair! Wait, that’s Beast’s so they will be too big for Fire. No, he can still wear them. Not really because if we go to the park then he might trip when on the play structure and fall to his death. Then Daisy would be mad that I just didn’t take the effort to find a comfortable shoe.” I find a comfortable shoe! Yeah! I can’t find the other one to match. Boo.
Switch scene
Daisy: “Here are some shorts and a shirt to match. Fire will look adorable in these.”
Switch scene
Goose: “What about those sandals he had on last night? No, those kept falling off and I had to put them back on about 5 times.” I overturn the shoe basket. “I’ll just have to clean those up later."
Beast: “Daddy, I just sneezed.” He runs into the room with snot dripping off his mouth.
Goose: I run in to the bathroom, grab a tissue, and wipe him off. “Where was I? Oh yeah, the shoes.” I go back to Fire’s room.
Switch scene
Daisy: “I think I’ll make a picnic to eat at the park while our car gets fixed. It’s right across the street. Oops, don’t worry Beast I’ll get that for ya. I’ve got a tissue in my back pocket.”
Switch scene
Goose: “I think these will work. These socks look fine.” I walk upstairs to get Fire who is playing in Beast’s room.
Beast: “Fire peed his pants!”
Fire: “Pee pee” as he points to his crotch.
Switch scene
Daisy: “It’s probably time to take Fire to the bathroom. Since I already have lunch made I will go ahead and do that.”
Switch scene
Goose: “Crap.” I take Fire back to his room and change his pants and sit him on the toilet.
Fire: “No toilet! No toilet” (screaming and crying) while he tries to climb up to the top of my head.
Switch scene
Daisy: “Good job going on the potty Fire. Let’s get you a treat.”
Switch scene
Goose: “Just sit on the potty for a minute Fire. I promise you a big treat. Good job. (1 second passes) You can’t already be done Fire."
Fire: Crying, Wailing, Stomping, and Screaming.
Goose: “Aaaaaarrrrrgggghhh! I know he has to go more but I’ll wait until I get to the mechanic shop”
Fire: “Treat! Treat!”
Beast: “I want a treat too!” (whining)
Goose: “I can’t give you a treat Fire. You didn’t go pee.”
Fire: “I sit on toilet!!” Face flushed and tears streaming
Goose: I did say he only needed to technically sit on the potty. “All right! Just stop crying.” I open the cupboard and find some marshmallows from camping. “Here!”
Switch scene
Daisy: “Here is your M&M that is carefully placed on the counter next to the toilet.” Fire smiles and laughs.
Fire: “I wuv you mama”
Daisy: “Ohhhh, I love you too Fire” They rub noses and Daisy tickles him. Beast runs into the bathroom and asks excitedly
Beast: “Can we go to the car fixer now!”
Daisy: “Of course sweetheart. Chop chop. Go get your sun hats and sunglasses.” Both boys scurry off into their rooms.
Switch scene
Beast: “I want a treat! I want a treat! I want a treat!”
Goose: “You didn’t go to the potty Beast!”
Beast: “I did a long time ago”
Goose: “Fine. Here is a marshmallow.”
Beast: “But I don’t like marshmallows” (Whine)
Goose: “But you did on the camping tr……..y’know what? Forget it”
Fire: “ ‘nother one! ‘nother one!”
Goose: “No to you both” What in the hell was I going to do next? Oh yeah, shoes.
Beast/Fire: Cry and follow me up the stairs.
Goose: “OK, here are the shoes aaannnnnddd (looking around) here are the socks. Wait, why is there only one sock? I had both socks in my hand when I came up here!” By that time both kids have reached me and are still crying. “Do either of you even remember what you are crying about?” I shut the door and keep looking for the one sock I lost. There is now banging on the door as the crying begins reaching a whole new level of pitch which causes me to have an instant headache and my ears to bleed. I’m in a freaking zombie movie!
Switch scene
Daisy: In the car and singing in unison. “The wheels on the bus go ‘round ‘round ‘round……all through the town”
Switch scene
Goose: Dragging both kids to the car and strapping them in. “I’ll be back.” I run in and get the sunscreen and run back to the car.
Beast: “I want out.”
Goose: “Not yet.” Grrrrrr, I forgot the lunch. I go inside. “I didn’t make lunch” I pack 4 pieces of bread, peanut butter, and a plastic knife. I come back and Beast is in the driver’s seat pressing all of the buttons in front of him. “Get back in your chair Beast”
Beast: “I’m thirsty”
Goose: “Oh yeah, water” I run into the house and grab two sippy cups but can’t find the lid for one. I run back. “Just don’t spill this ok Beast?”
Beast: “But I want my star wars one” (Whine)
Goose: “Stop whining” I look over at Fire. “Why are you sleeping?”
Switch scene
Daisy: “Sorry we are early Ron. Do you mind if we drink water on this bench?”
Ron: “Of course. Goin’ to the park today boys?”
Beast/Fire: (smiling) “yes.”
Daisy: “Here is your star wars water bottle Beast. And here is your Toy Story water bottle Fire.”
Beast/Fire: “Thank you.”
Switch scene
Goose: “Sorry I’m late Ron” As I drag my kids inside the shop.
Ron: “Golly Goose, I didn’t think you were comin’”
Goose: “Wha….”
Ron: Points up to the clock. “You’re a half hour late so I had someone in line go ahead of you. Are you ok Goose? You look like you’re gonna pass out. Sally! Call on ambulance I don’t think he’s breathin’!”
Switch scene
Beast: At the park and building beautiful memories together. “Where did you say Daddy went?”
Daisy: “To heaven sweetheart.”
Beast: “Can he see us from there?”
Daisy: (Sigh) “I sure hope not. Do you guys want me to push you on the swing?”
Beast/Fire: “Yeah!”
What I will talk about is Daisy speed vs. Goose speed when getting out the door with children in tow. This has been an area of conflict that we go ‘round and ‘round about almost every time we have to leave and we have not been able to break the cycle. I would be more than happy if Daisy were a bit more relaxed and Daisy wishes I was able to rev up to warp speed thinking ten steps ahead.
I’ll give a couple of examples from my day today. Daisy and I have been together almost 14 years so I will explain what I did and take a well educated guess as to Daisy’s way of thinking. I had an appt with the mechanic at 10 o’clock am and it was 8:45 am when I started getting ready.
Goose: “Where are Fire’s shoes? I brought the blue ones in from our camping gear so I will check the garage.” I want Fire’s blue pair because I know they fit or else we would not have had them on the trip. I check the garage, his room, our room and Beast’s room along with both bathrooms. Nothing.
Switch scene
Daisy: “Where are Fire’s shoes? I brought the blue ones in from our camping gear and know they are in the back of his closet. Beast had them in his hands last night and I told them where they go. I saw him Beast throw one to the left where it sat on his grey dress shoe and one to the right where it then became covered by his red sandal. I will now proceed to put the shoes on him.”
Switch scene
Goose: “I’m going to the shoe pile to find another pair. Here is a pair! Wait, that’s Beast’s so they will be too big for Fire. No, he can still wear them. Not really because if we go to the park then he might trip when on the play structure and fall to his death. Then Daisy would be mad that I just didn’t take the effort to find a comfortable shoe.” I find a comfortable shoe! Yeah! I can’t find the other one to match. Boo.
Switch scene
Daisy: “Here are some shorts and a shirt to match. Fire will look adorable in these.”
Switch scene
Goose: “What about those sandals he had on last night? No, those kept falling off and I had to put them back on about 5 times.” I overturn the shoe basket. “I’ll just have to clean those up later."
Beast: “Daddy, I just sneezed.” He runs into the room with snot dripping off his mouth.
Goose: I run in to the bathroom, grab a tissue, and wipe him off. “Where was I? Oh yeah, the shoes.” I go back to Fire’s room.
Switch scene
Daisy: “I think I’ll make a picnic to eat at the park while our car gets fixed. It’s right across the street. Oops, don’t worry Beast I’ll get that for ya. I’ve got a tissue in my back pocket.”
Switch scene
Goose: “I think these will work. These socks look fine.” I walk upstairs to get Fire who is playing in Beast’s room.
Beast: “Fire peed his pants!”
Fire: “Pee pee” as he points to his crotch.
Switch scene
Daisy: “It’s probably time to take Fire to the bathroom. Since I already have lunch made I will go ahead and do that.”
Switch scene
Goose: “Crap.” I take Fire back to his room and change his pants and sit him on the toilet.
Fire: “No toilet! No toilet” (screaming and crying) while he tries to climb up to the top of my head.
Switch scene
Daisy: “Good job going on the potty Fire. Let’s get you a treat.”
Switch scene
Goose: “Just sit on the potty for a minute Fire. I promise you a big treat. Good job. (1 second passes) You can’t already be done Fire."
Fire: Crying, Wailing, Stomping, and Screaming.
Goose: “Aaaaaarrrrrgggghhh! I know he has to go more but I’ll wait until I get to the mechanic shop”
Fire: “Treat! Treat!”
Beast: “I want a treat too!” (whining)
Goose: “I can’t give you a treat Fire. You didn’t go pee.”
Fire: “I sit on toilet!!” Face flushed and tears streaming
Goose: I did say he only needed to technically sit on the potty. “All right! Just stop crying.” I open the cupboard and find some marshmallows from camping. “Here!”
Switch scene
Daisy: “Here is your M&M that is carefully placed on the counter next to the toilet.” Fire smiles and laughs.
Fire: “I wuv you mama”
Daisy: “Ohhhh, I love you too Fire” They rub noses and Daisy tickles him. Beast runs into the bathroom and asks excitedly
Beast: “Can we go to the car fixer now!”
Daisy: “Of course sweetheart. Chop chop. Go get your sun hats and sunglasses.” Both boys scurry off into their rooms.
Switch scene
Beast: “I want a treat! I want a treat! I want a treat!”
Goose: “You didn’t go to the potty Beast!”
Beast: “I did a long time ago”
Goose: “Fine. Here is a marshmallow.”
Beast: “But I don’t like marshmallows” (Whine)
Goose: “But you did on the camping tr……..y’know what? Forget it”
Fire: “ ‘nother one! ‘nother one!”
Goose: “No to you both” What in the hell was I going to do next? Oh yeah, shoes.
Beast/Fire: Cry and follow me up the stairs.
Goose: “OK, here are the shoes aaannnnnddd (looking around) here are the socks. Wait, why is there only one sock? I had both socks in my hand when I came up here!” By that time both kids have reached me and are still crying. “Do either of you even remember what you are crying about?” I shut the door and keep looking for the one sock I lost. There is now banging on the door as the crying begins reaching a whole new level of pitch which causes me to have an instant headache and my ears to bleed. I’m in a freaking zombie movie!
Switch scene
Daisy: In the car and singing in unison. “The wheels on the bus go ‘round ‘round ‘round……all through the town”
Switch scene
Goose: Dragging both kids to the car and strapping them in. “I’ll be back.” I run in and get the sunscreen and run back to the car.
Beast: “I want out.”
Goose: “Not yet.” Grrrrrr, I forgot the lunch. I go inside. “I didn’t make lunch” I pack 4 pieces of bread, peanut butter, and a plastic knife. I come back and Beast is in the driver’s seat pressing all of the buttons in front of him. “Get back in your chair Beast”
Beast: “I’m thirsty”
Goose: “Oh yeah, water” I run into the house and grab two sippy cups but can’t find the lid for one. I run back. “Just don’t spill this ok Beast?”
Beast: “But I want my star wars one” (Whine)
Goose: “Stop whining” I look over at Fire. “Why are you sleeping?”
Switch scene
Daisy: “Sorry we are early Ron. Do you mind if we drink water on this bench?”
Ron: “Of course. Goin’ to the park today boys?”
Beast/Fire: (smiling) “yes.”
Daisy: “Here is your star wars water bottle Beast. And here is your Toy Story water bottle Fire.”
Beast/Fire: “Thank you.”
Switch scene
Goose: “Sorry I’m late Ron” As I drag my kids inside the shop.
Ron: “Golly Goose, I didn’t think you were comin’”
Goose: “Wha….”
Ron: Points up to the clock. “You’re a half hour late so I had someone in line go ahead of you. Are you ok Goose? You look like you’re gonna pass out. Sally! Call on ambulance I don’t think he’s breathin’!”
Switch scene
Beast: At the park and building beautiful memories together. “Where did you say Daddy went?”
Daisy: “To heaven sweetheart.”
Beast: “Can he see us from there?”
Daisy: (Sigh) “I sure hope not. Do you guys want me to push you on the swing?”
Beast/Fire: “Yeah!”
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
(Son) Virgo
I looked up Virgo personality traits but didn't like them so I'm going to skip that part. What I won't skip is the emotional damage that was bestowed upon me in 3rd grade. Her name? Heidi. Her birthday? My birthday. Her classroom treat? Goodie bags and chocolate cake. My classroom treat? Crusty dry brownies.
Her mother must have put her daughter's birthday on par with Jesus Christ. If our 3rd grade class treats were any indication of what she received at home.......well, it still sickens me. Hey listen, I'm not complaining about how this 7 yr old b*tch ruined my birthday for the rest of my life. It's just when my special day comes up I don't think about how old I am I think how old Heidi is and if she is having her birthday party in Hawaii with an invitation to all relatives and friends regarding free airfare and accommodations. Wheh, my cathartic rant certainly helped.
Speaking of cathartic rants, did anybody see Jake and Vienna's interview after the show this week. Daisy pulled it up on ABC.com so I could watch it. It was so beautiful my eyes welled up with tears of happiness.
Her mother must have put her daughter's birthday on par with Jesus Christ. If our 3rd grade class treats were any indication of what she received at home.......well, it still sickens me. Hey listen, I'm not complaining about how this 7 yr old b*tch ruined my birthday for the rest of my life. It's just when my special day comes up I don't think about how old I am I think how old Heidi is and if she is having her birthday party in Hawaii with an invitation to all relatives and friends regarding free airfare and accommodations. Wheh, my cathartic rant certainly helped.
Speaking of cathartic rants, did anybody see Jake and Vienna's interview after the show this week. Daisy pulled it up on ABC.com so I could watch it. It was so beautiful my eyes welled up with tears of happiness.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Quick Hits: Just Weight
I spoke with our Administrative Assistant today who said she went to her OBGYN the other day. She said she gained 15 lbs since her last appt and the dr. said he would like to see her gain more around the 12 lb mark instead of 15 lbs. She felt awful. Does that sound like a crazy to any number of you? I thought those kind of statistics were outdated. I know there can be an unhealthy mark but gaining 3 lbs. more than average in her last month of pregnancy is really a problem? I worked at a University and became well aware of how many women suffer from eating disorders. Can you imagine a woman who was suffering from an eating disorder leaving a dr. appt like that? She wouldn't eat for the rest of the day or maybe the next. I would like to say it's the exception to the rule but the same thing happened to Daisy.
Speaking of weight, I have packed on some pounds. Within the last 4 years I have gone from 175 lbs. to 210 lbs. I am 6 foot 3 so it doesn't look terrible. And I really don't want to give up chocolate. I woke up the morning after Beast's birthday party and approached the kitchen. I looked to the right and found bananas. I looked to the left and saw leftover chocolate cake. Hhhhhmmmm.....it would take too long to peel the banana. Chocolate cake for breakfast it is.
Speaking of, Psychologists like to talk about self care but a lot of us rarely practice it. The big three are eating, sleeping, and excercise habits. I drove last night having not slept very well the night before. There was a construction zone that merged the passing lane down to the middle lane very quickly. I was stuck between orange traffic barrels and a 70 foot semi-truck. I sped up because I couldn't slam on my brakes and come to a complete stop while crashing into the cones. I squeezed through both of them with inches to spare. I'm serious when I say inches because one of the cones took off the driver's side mirror. Daisy almost peed her pants. I was too tired to care.
Speaking of weight, I have packed on some pounds. Within the last 4 years I have gone from 175 lbs. to 210 lbs. I am 6 foot 3 so it doesn't look terrible. And I really don't want to give up chocolate. I woke up the morning after Beast's birthday party and approached the kitchen. I looked to the right and found bananas. I looked to the left and saw leftover chocolate cake. Hhhhhmmmm.....it would take too long to peel the banana. Chocolate cake for breakfast it is.
Speaking of, Psychologists like to talk about self care but a lot of us rarely practice it. The big three are eating, sleeping, and excercise habits. I drove last night having not slept very well the night before. There was a construction zone that merged the passing lane down to the middle lane very quickly. I was stuck between orange traffic barrels and a 70 foot semi-truck. I sped up because I couldn't slam on my brakes and come to a complete stop while crashing into the cones. I squeezed through both of them with inches to spare. I'm serious when I say inches because one of the cones took off the driver's side mirror. Daisy almost peed her pants. I was too tired to care.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
(Father) The Beast
This Vintage post was written over three years ago. I was rummaging through old writings and thought this might explain how he earned his nickname, The Beast.
The reason why our first born is called Beast is partly because of the irony it holds. He is a cute little angel. However, there are times his evil side rears its ugly head. At this point he has morphed into what we call The Beast. You can’t get mad at a Beast because that is what he is and is made to be. Much like how Chris Rock spoke about the circus tiger that attacked Roy Horn of Seigfried and Roy "That tiger didn't go crazy, that tiger went tiger!"
Or the story of the turtle and scorpion:
A scorpion, being a very poor swimmer, asked a turtle to carry him on his back across a river. "Are you mad?" exclaimed the turtle. "You'll sting me while I'm swimming and I'll drown."
"My dear turtle," laughed the scorpion, "if I were to sting you, you would drown and I would go down with you. Now where is the logic in that?"
"You're right!" cried the turtle. "Hop on!" The scorpion climbed aboard and halfway across the river gave the turtle a mighty sting. As they both sank to the bottom, the turtle resignedly said:
"Do you mind if I ask you something? You said there'd be no logic in your stinging me. Why did you do it?"
"It has nothing to do with logic," the drowning scorpion sadly replied. "It's just my character."
Well, we don’t have a scorpion, we have a Beast. He is an animal that we have studying for quite a while who has an extremely angelic yet brutish character.
The reason why our first born is called Beast is partly because of the irony it holds. He is a cute little angel. However, there are times his evil side rears its ugly head. At this point he has morphed into what we call The Beast. You can’t get mad at a Beast because that is what he is and is made to be. Much like how Chris Rock spoke about the circus tiger that attacked Roy Horn of Seigfried and Roy "That tiger didn't go crazy, that tiger went tiger!"
Or the story of the turtle and scorpion:
A scorpion, being a very poor swimmer, asked a turtle to carry him on his back across a river. "Are you mad?" exclaimed the turtle. "You'll sting me while I'm swimming and I'll drown."
"My dear turtle," laughed the scorpion, "if I were to sting you, you would drown and I would go down with you. Now where is the logic in that?"
"You're right!" cried the turtle. "Hop on!" The scorpion climbed aboard and halfway across the river gave the turtle a mighty sting. As they both sank to the bottom, the turtle resignedly said:
"Do you mind if I ask you something? You said there'd be no logic in your stinging me. Why did you do it?"
"It has nothing to do with logic," the drowning scorpion sadly replied. "It's just my character."
Well, we don’t have a scorpion, we have a Beast. He is an animal that we have studying for quite a while who has an extremely angelic yet brutish character.
Friday, July 2, 2010
(Husband) I'm a dirty liar II
“I know something” Daisy said. My heart dropped.
“I know you know. I’m sorry.”
“You lied to me.” I lean back on the pillows and wait for the onslaught. Daisy said not to disengage (I’m an avoider of conflict and dismiss other’s anger at me). Daisy gets louder and more upset with every sentence. We then decided to sit down and talk after dinner. I went downstairs and Daisy got on the computer. “I’m going to look up lying husbands on the computer.”
“Great” I thought. “Loading up on ammo” I’m sure there are multiple websites that have quizzes and on every scale I will land on, “9-12 pts: Leave the SOB”. She came back and we sat down on the couch. I awaited my fate.
“Well, the sites I looked at said people will lie to their significant other because they are afraid of being caught, in trouble, left, or told to stop.” I looked up. There was truth in all of them. Daisy genuinely fears for my health and how the kids will follow in my footsteps if my behavior continues. I hate being told what to do and perceive her shaming comments as controlling.
After a while it looked as if we were coming to a compromise when I said, “Listen, how about if I buy 12 cans of chew. One for every month. And at the end of the year I will stop.” Daisy looked at me and thought I was serious. “I’m kidding”
“How am I supposed to know that? I don’t know what to believe anymore. How is lying so easy for you?” I decided to evade the question with another joke.
“Y’know, the boys eventually chewing is not so bad. It'll teach them how to be a man. I’ll put little tiny dips in their cheeks starting tomorrow.” I received the same expression from Daisy. “Oh c’mon Daisy”
Bottom line and ultimate outcome? Daisy thinks I’m funny.
“I know you know. I’m sorry.”
“You lied to me.” I lean back on the pillows and wait for the onslaught. Daisy said not to disengage (I’m an avoider of conflict and dismiss other’s anger at me). Daisy gets louder and more upset with every sentence. We then decided to sit down and talk after dinner. I went downstairs and Daisy got on the computer. “I’m going to look up lying husbands on the computer.”
“Great” I thought. “Loading up on ammo” I’m sure there are multiple websites that have quizzes and on every scale I will land on, “9-12 pts: Leave the SOB”. She came back and we sat down on the couch. I awaited my fate.
“Well, the sites I looked at said people will lie to their significant other because they are afraid of being caught, in trouble, left, or told to stop.” I looked up. There was truth in all of them. Daisy genuinely fears for my health and how the kids will follow in my footsteps if my behavior continues. I hate being told what to do and perceive her shaming comments as controlling.
After a while it looked as if we were coming to a compromise when I said, “Listen, how about if I buy 12 cans of chew. One for every month. And at the end of the year I will stop.” Daisy looked at me and thought I was serious. “I’m kidding”
“How am I supposed to know that? I don’t know what to believe anymore. How is lying so easy for you?” I decided to evade the question with another joke.
“Y’know, the boys eventually chewing is not so bad. It'll teach them how to be a man. I’ll put little tiny dips in their cheeks starting tomorrow.” I received the same expression from Daisy. “Oh c’mon Daisy”
Bottom line and ultimate outcome? Daisy thinks I’m funny.
(Husband) I'm a dirty liar
I lied to Daisy. It was stupid and wrong and I was a fool for doing so. However, up until that point I hadn’t exactly lied per se. I had only kept specific information to myself. In my mind I was justified by not getting her upset which would, in turn, get me in trouble. However, when confronted directly I spun a “reasonable” explanation for the whole mess which prompted the president of the lying liars association of all things untrue, stationed in Lieville, to give me a call and welcome me into his fold.
Let me briefly explain. Daisy, the kids, and I have been without dental insurance for a while. When we finally received it last month we signed everyone up for an appointment. I went in, got the x-rays, got an inspection, and was asked if I smoked. I said I didn’t smoke and said nothing more. No more questions were asked. Let me explain something to you all. Y’know how most people like to chew their food. Well I like to chew too. Except sometimes I like to chew tobacco. I can already hear the crowd give out a collective “EEEEEWWWWW!!!! That’s gross. It’s disgusting. Do you know how bad that is for you? Did you know chewing tobacco can cause mouth and throat cancer? Do have a brain the size of a walnut? Why on God’s green earth would you go out and pay for your own death?” My response is I trust tobacco companies to tell the truth.
So I have a feeling the dental hygienist might see some stains and figure it out anyway. But I don’t chew that often and very sporadically. At last I decided to tell I chewed and she said they had a cessation program I could be involved in. I said I would finish my can and that would be the end. Strangely, it is not terribly difficult for me to stop. I just get cravings every 6-12 months and give in once a year for a week or two. At any rate, they finish up and give me a pamphlet on how my appt went. I walk out as Daisy is walking in for her appt. “Here.” I said giving her the pamphlet. “The dentist said I have great oral hygiene.”
“Yes Goose, you said oral, stop giggling please.” I went up to make my next appt and feel a tap on my shoulder. “Why does it say to stop smoking in your pamphlet?”
“Wha…….” I look at the pamphlet. “Bastards!” I said to myself. “Well Daisy, I don’t smoke. They must have said I need to stop if I was”
“Oh.” Daisy looked at the pamphlet with a confused look on her face. I go to work and walk into my friend’s office.
“I’m screwed.” I tell her the story and we both agreed Daisy would know within the hour. “But that’s against HIPPA law.” I said. Even so, my friend said they would most likely tell her about my medical status even if they offically need a release of information from me. Daisy called three times that afternoon but my phone was off because I was seeing clients. After work I walk in the door and am greeted by the kids and a happy wife. The kids went down to bed and we sat in our bedroom taking care of paperwork. I had dodged a bullet.
Let me briefly explain. Daisy, the kids, and I have been without dental insurance for a while. When we finally received it last month we signed everyone up for an appointment. I went in, got the x-rays, got an inspection, and was asked if I smoked. I said I didn’t smoke and said nothing more. No more questions were asked. Let me explain something to you all. Y’know how most people like to chew their food. Well I like to chew too. Except sometimes I like to chew tobacco. I can already hear the crowd give out a collective “EEEEEWWWWW!!!! That’s gross. It’s disgusting. Do you know how bad that is for you? Did you know chewing tobacco can cause mouth and throat cancer? Do have a brain the size of a walnut? Why on God’s green earth would you go out and pay for your own death?” My response is I trust tobacco companies to tell the truth.
So I have a feeling the dental hygienist might see some stains and figure it out anyway. But I don’t chew that often and very sporadically. At last I decided to tell I chewed and she said they had a cessation program I could be involved in. I said I would finish my can and that would be the end. Strangely, it is not terribly difficult for me to stop. I just get cravings every 6-12 months and give in once a year for a week or two. At any rate, they finish up and give me a pamphlet on how my appt went. I walk out as Daisy is walking in for her appt. “Here.” I said giving her the pamphlet. “The dentist said I have great oral hygiene.”
“Yes Goose, you said oral, stop giggling please.” I went up to make my next appt and feel a tap on my shoulder. “Why does it say to stop smoking in your pamphlet?”
“Wha…….” I look at the pamphlet. “Bastards!” I said to myself. “Well Daisy, I don’t smoke. They must have said I need to stop if I was”
“Oh.” Daisy looked at the pamphlet with a confused look on her face. I go to work and walk into my friend’s office.
“I’m screwed.” I tell her the story and we both agreed Daisy would know within the hour. “But that’s against HIPPA law.” I said. Even so, my friend said they would most likely tell her about my medical status even if they offically need a release of information from me. Daisy called three times that afternoon but my phone was off because I was seeing clients. After work I walk in the door and am greeted by the kids and a happy wife. The kids went down to bed and we sat in our bedroom taking care of paperwork. I had dodged a bullet.
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