Monday, November 29, 2010

(Father) To Santa Or Not To Santa

There appears to be a whole spectrum of possibilities when it comes to belief or disbelief. 


On one end you may have a parent who lays out the milk and cookies for Santa and carrots for the Reindeer.  They have prepared the child with lists that have been mailed to the North Pole and phone calls or texts from Santa, Mrs. Clause, or the elves asking if Johnny has been good.  Perhaps a weather report before bed and where Santa is on his route.  In the morning the child finds the milk, cookies, and carrots with bites taken out of them, soot at the bottom of the fireplace, deer droppings on the front lawn, and packages signed, "From Santa".


Telling the kids that not only is Santa not real but telling every other child the same thing.  When the parents of the flake cover the child's ears then the scrooge may yell, "You are ruining your child's life with lies!  ALL LIES!!!"  The parent may not even set up a tree and if they do it is a fake one from 1962 with duct tape holding it together in 5 places.  The only reason they may have lights on the outside of their house is because they were too lazy to take them off 7 years ago.

Daisy and I have taken the, "Don't Ask Don't Tell" approach but we soon found out we couldn't stay on the fence for long. 

Scene 1  (The Recognition)

Beast:  There's Santa on the cartoon.  Santa is in that song.  There's Santa on the front lawn of that house.  Santa is on that glass, plate, box, light, advertisement, package, toy, cereal box, and everything else I have laid my eyes upon. 

Us:  Yep, there he is.

Beast:  There is Santa in the mall with kids on his lap telling them what they want for Christmas.

Us:  Yeah, why don't you wave and say hello.

Beast:  Hi Santa!  He waved back!!!

Daisy:  Isn't our child cute?

Goose:  He is adorable.  He gets such a kick out of Santa.  Let's point out more to him.

Daisy:  Yes, we shall.

Scene 2 (The Description)
Beast:  Does Santa have a big belly?  Why does Santa give gifts to kids?  Does Santa come down chimneys?  How big are the elves?  Why doesn't Mrs. Clause go with Santa to houses?
Us:  He has a big belly, because kids are cool, he comes down chimneys, maybe 3 feet, and because Santa is a lone wolf.
Daisy:  Doesn't Beast have such a great imagination and curiosity?
Goose:  He is so aware of his environment.  How did our child become so brilliant?
Scene 3 (The Belief)
Beast:  I asked Santa for (something unreasonably expensive) so he is going to give it to me on Christmas morning.

Us (looking at each other):  Oh.

Choice 1

Goose:  Y'know how Star Wars people are fun to talk about but aren't real?

Beast:  They aren't real?!?

Us (looking at each other)  Um. 

Goose:  We have more of a problem than we first anticipated.

Choice 2

Goose:  I'm sure he will lil' buddy.

Do you tell your kids Santa is real?  Do you tell them he is not?  If you tell them he is real then when do you tell them he isn't or do you ever tell them at all?  If you tell them he is not real then how do you explain how the other kids say he is? If you tell your kid he isn't real then the parents down the street are offended because your child begins placing doubts in their child's head?  Do the parents of the children who say he is not real have an equally legitimate argument?  Who is pi**ing on who's reality?  When it comes down to it who ends up having more fun with the whole idea of Santa?  What if you have a split family where one parent wants to explain the harsh reality and the other wants to explain the dreamy mystery?

How have you all resolved this dilemma?

Monday, November 22, 2010

(Husband) Old Flame

I was working out at the gym today when my blood pressure took a turn.  Not because of the workout but the girl walking in front of me.  It was not a situation where I knew I had seen her somewhere before.  No.  I knew immediately.  The last time I saw her was about 15 years ago for about 5 minutes.  Just enough time to show off her brand new muscular Marine boyfriend.  The time before that was another 5 yrs earlier except for a longer stretch than 5 minutes. 

I met her my in the beginning of my Junior year.  I had earned a small role in our High School production of a Midsummer Night's Dream so we had several scenes together.  We became friends and, because we lived close to one another, hung out a couple of times.  I perceived these times like any other time I hang out with a friend.  Evidently she read things a little differently.  When I was invited over for a family dinner I got a little freaked out.  Especially when her dad decided that would be a good time to drill me on defensive driving techniques.  I had never driven her, or planned on driving her, anywhere!

Well, it wasn't long until the Snowball dance came around.  A refreshing time for guys when we don't have to hang ourselves out to dry and girls don't have to make a choice between a bird in the hand versus two in the bush.  A pretty young thing asked me and I said yes.  That was a poor choice according to little miss unforgiving.  For those of you who judge, please remember that I was 15 years old.  15 years old!!

Even as a dense 15 year old I still had enough sense to realize little miss unforgiving hated me.  Y'know why?  Because for the next two months of practicing our parts in the play she never ever ever ever spoke a word to me.  We walk off stage?  No talking.  We are about to walk on stage?  No talking.  Putting on makeup or socializing with the cast for coffee after rehearsing?  Not a word.  The only talking we ever did was when we were saying our lines to one another.  To make it worse our parts were the comedic relief.  We had to make jokes, laugh, and generally act like we liked each other.  Going into the costume room felt like walking into a dreary cemetery at midnight with wolves howling and the full moon hanging overhead.

At one point I had to approach her and ask, "Do you really hate me that much?"  Do you want to know something even more ridiculous?  At the time I'm not even sure I knew what she was mad about.  (Sigh) 

When it really comes down to it I know after 20 years I have changed and so has she.  So why does a stupid High School issue feel so scary?  Am I going to hide my face every time I see her? 

When I saw Daisy I reached out my sweaty hands, arms, and body to hug her.  She has shown me so much grace and I'm not sure I knew how much until I felt like a hated 15 year old again.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

(Father) Absent

I take care of the boys on Mondays of each week.  I start out with enthusiasm but lose heart after the first hour.  Should I drink a Red Bull in the morning?  Answer?  Yes, and a different perspective.   

I was watching a show about the proverbial absent father who comes swooping in after a few months of visitation cancellations to the excitement of the children.  The kids get dropped off late with candy bars hanging out of their mouths and toys in their hands having just spent the day at the circus.  Then the father goes into hiding only to parachute back a few months later into the loving arms of the children.  The next Monday I decided I was going to be that father. 

We started out with Halloween candy for breakfast and moved straight toward dressing up in whatever clothes they chose.  They chose to wear T-shirts, that were in the dirty laundry, even though it was cold and rainy.  After a couple of hours of cartoons we drove to the gym where they were watched by people who helped them make crafts.  They were quite excited about showing me.  We drove straight to McDonalds where they ate Happy Meals and played in the indoor playground. 

But then the wheels started coming off and I became the responsible parent once again.  We needed to get into the car but Beast wanted to climb on top of the car.  I had to take Fire to the bathroom but he didn't want to.  I needed Fire to lay down for a nap or else that evening we were going to witness a child who may be mistaken for a meth junkie.  Beast didn't want to be in his room for quiet time but on my back while I checked my business e-mail. 

I'm not saying any of the things I did were irresponsible or that I wouldn't be happy to do them again.  But my attitude and behavior was child directed toward what they thought they needed and possibly deserved.  Short term pleasure is fine but long term does not translate into any more excitement or love for me which was what I was hoping for.  In fact, the only reason why it may have been exciting at all was because it was a special treat from the otherwise responsible father who doesn't always give in to their demands.

So what was the final lesson I learned?  Daisy and I need to separate so I will have them only for a couple of hours each week.  Then I will then undermine whatever silly rules she has in place so I become the favorite parent. 

Beast & Fire:  Mom says we have to do our homework.

Goose:  Not at daddy's house.

Beast & Fire:  Mom says we can't watch this show.

Goose:  You can at daddy's house.

Beast & Fire:  Mom says we can't east this, can't drink this, can't jump on this, draw on this, play with this, run on this, lift this or say this.

Goose:  Mom isn't very fun is she?

Beast & Fire:  NO!!!!!!

Goose:  Tell her she is making daddy poor and I shouldn't have to pay more money for chi.......uh, support.

Beast & Fire:  OK

Goose:  Cry if she doesn't.

Beast & Fire:  OK

Goose:  Now let's go slash her boyfriend's new tires.

Beast & Fire:  YEAH!!!!!!!!

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Father's Day

In honor of Father's Day (June 19th, 2011) I am changing my background to something called, "Spurs and Spit".  I'm not making that up.

Monday, November 8, 2010

(Father/Husband) Got Penis?

No picture for this one.

Got together with a friend who has a boy the same age as Beast (4 yrs. old).  Have never met each other before but it only took about.......oh........75 seconds for one of them to say, "poop".  They laughed until it looked as though their sides hurt.  Then the other one caught his breath and repeated the word.  From what I witnessed the second poop statement was funnier than the first.

Poop, pee, and butt are only a fraction of what is funny to a boy.  The other word, of course, is penis.  The boys are more than aware of their own penis and think ripping their clothes off and running around the house shouting, "penis, penis penis!!!!" is wildly entertaining (reminds me of a Bachelor party I attended).  That is why I was struck with the seriousness of Beast's tone when discussing the topic of a penis to Daisy.

Beast:  Mom?

Daisy:  Yes Honey?

Beast:  Do you have a penis?

Daisy:  No.

Beast:  How come?

Daisy: Because I'm a girl and girls don't have penises.

Beast:  Why?

Daisy:  Because we aren't born that way.

Beast:  How do you pee?

Daisy:  Ummmm...........we sit down.

Beast:  Why?

Daisy:  We just do.  Here, let me get your shoes on.

Beast:  Fire has a penis.

Daisy:  Yes he does.

Beast:  Do you want a penis?

Daisy:  No.  I don't want a penis.

By this point Fire has come over showing curiosity with a face reflecting concern.

Fire:  Yo don wanna a penis?

Daisy:  No. Now let's get out to the car.

Now I step in.

Goose:  Do you feel left out? 

Daisy:  Are you men really so self absorbed to think everyone on the planet desires a penis?

Goose:  Freud said penis envy..........

Daisy:  Are you joking with me right now?

I chuckle.  Fire sees Daisy as distressed and comes over to pat her on the back.  And I swear on all things holy this is really what he said.

Fire:  Is ok.  Som day yo ge a penis.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

(Husband) Dream Lovers

Ever have sex with someone you never thought you would, or even could?  Well let me tell ya.  There have been times I have woken up in the morning thinking, "How in the living hell did this happen and how am I ever going to tell Daisy?"  And then I think, "I never will.  She will think that deep down in the recesses of my mind I am a disgusting piece of dog crap who will never be allowed near her again."

The next week I would see her take a glance at me, frown, and go back watching television.  I would find her looking on the Internet for insight as to what might be wrong with me and if there is anything she can do to either stop my thinking errors or how how she could slowly ease her way out of the relationship.

Sometimes dreams are obvious in the process of analysis.  As a Psychologist I attempt to make sense of dreams my clients have, especially if it is disturbing or reoccurring.  I accept dream interpretation as a legitimate piece of the therapeutic process that could make some reasonable sense of what might be behind the curtain.  But.............hmmm.............let me give an example.

Your husband/wife asks, "Would you mind picking up some wine on the way home."

"Sure." you say.

"Hello." you say to the grocer.  "Nice evening".

"It sure is." states the elderly grocer.  Next thing you know your rolling in the hay with the man/woman who just rang up your alcohol.

How about an ex-boyfriend/girlfriend who you hate and find absolutely revolting?  Well guess what?  That evening you're doing the mattress mambo.

Your overweight boss who smells like tuna?  The horizontal hustle my friend!

Creepy clown?  Lust and thrust.

What about the bum on the subway?  Well now you're vulcanizing the whoopee stick.

Maybe in the moment you are confused or, God forbid, you actually enjoy it.  You want my advice?  Don't tell a soul.  Stuff that thought down into the closet labeled "Secret Stuff.  Keep out!"

Let me be perfectly clear.  We are not talking about doing the two person push up with Jerry Seinfeld.  That's just funny and quirky.  Maybe it's knocking boots with Brad Pitt in a chicken suit or laying the pipe down with Walt Disney.  That's weird.  But bumping and grinding with a cartoon character like Sponge Bob square pants?  Might need to keep it between close friends.

You see where I am headed with this?  Let me know if you think of anything else.

Monday, November 1, 2010

(Husband) Girly Man

A friend of mine, who I will call Peach Schnapps, suggested I might be kind of "girly".  I didn't agree.  However, this past weekend I was at a wedding and realized I was enjoying it for more than just the open bar, socialization, and food.  I genuinely appreciated the ceremony.  Furthermore, I got a little weepy when I heard a story of a popular kid who, as one of the two captains choosing teams on the playground, chose the weakest kid first.  I went back to her and admitted she was right.  Hence, the inspiration for my post.

Those of you who know me may mistake the man in the picture as me.  But surprisingly enough it's actually Tom Brady.  He is an all pro, 3 time superbowl champion, MVP quarterback for the New England Patriots who happens to be married to an international supermodel.  He is all man.  In fact, I think this picture says it all. 

First, he has the black shirt and pants that state, "I'm a bad ass".  He is also sporting the short sleeves which show off his muscles and wind blown hair produced by cruising around in a convertible.  It is important to note it is wind blown hair produced by wind and not a blow dryer.  Blow dried wind styled hair means you are a metrosexual. 

Notice the scruffy five o'clock shadow.  Loosely translated?  "Screw the rules!  I don't have time to be a pretty boy for nobody cuz' I'm my own man."  It is obvious there is a young woman in the shot but what may be more subtle is Tom's left leg which looks very close to being out the door.  It's as if to say, "If this b*tch starts talking about her feelings than I'm outta here."  Y'see, a real man can't be tied down with that crap.

But get this.  Tom earns less than his wife and he told reporters his wife won't let him cut his hair.  There was also a quote, by his wife couple of years ago that refers to Tom as sweet and gentle.  Bob, from the bowling alley, said he would never let his third wife control him like that.

Once I realized Tom Brady and I were one and the same I decided to call him and get some advice.  He said there a few rules I need to follow in order to toughen up my image: 

1)  A man doesn't cry......................unless he is watching his favorite sports figure's retirement press conference.

2)  A man doesn't give hugs......................................unless his favorite team scores a game winning touchdown.

3)  A man doesn't say, "I love you"........................................................................................unless he is drunk.
4)  A man doesn't talk about his feelings.................................................................unless he says, "I'm pi**ed".

I asked him if he followed these rules and he said no.  I asked why he believes in a double standard.  After some silence he said, "I'm an NFL quarterback and you are a Psychologist.  Y'know what?  Scratch everything I told you.  Do you shave your legs?"

"I need the extra speed when I swim and bike ride."

"Shut up.  Go hunting, kill an animal, eat its liver, cover your body with its blood, and dance around the fire naked.  Then, and only then, will you break your girly curse."

"Is all that really necessary?"

"You need all the help you can get."  (click)

Well, wish me luck.  I wonder if I can kill bunny rabbits with love.