A Limerick for every occasion

It’s over. Not that this is necessarily a bad thing; or for that matter, a good thing either. It’s just simply…over.

There is so much that I could say about Thanksgiving this year, but I thought maybe I’d try and mix it up a bit.

Therefore, I hereby present, my Thanksgiving Limericks:

At my house here we held our Thanksgiving
Celebrated with joy by the living
Though some of us slept
While the rest of us swept
When the gym opened back up, I was driven!

My mom has forgotten that small boys
Will fight over food, space and small toys
When I yell, “Hey you guys STOP!”
She says, “What up there pop?
Your yelling just adds on to their noise!”

There isn’t enough hard alcohol
Stored there in the wet bar in the hall
To keep me from wishin
That my mom would stop bitchin
About the supposed economic downfall


When the toddler is down for his long nap
Why can’t you all shut up your trap?
And stop stomping around
Like you own this here ground
Oh Lord help me put up with this crap!

Though I make fun, we really had a very good Thanksgiving. I don’t publicly thank God for my blessings too often, but I do give him all the glory and praise for what I’ve been blessed with. I hope he understands that, at times like these, I’m mostly just having a good time. I’m not really this uptight. I think God has a sense of humor too.

Playdate Follow Up

pit children Since so many people have asked (like 3!), I thought I’d offer a follow up post to my “family affair” playdate this past Sunday.

Let me start with a free form word/thought association as the 2 hour playdate carried out:

  • Man, steep hill. Hope I can get the car back down
  • Whoa, flat backyard. Nice
  • Hi, good to see you. Thanks for the invite
  • Hmm, house layout is similar to ours
  • Man, a Sunroom?
  • Man, two fireplaces?
  • Man, a finished basement?
  • Damn, nice bar!
  • Dude, that’s gotta be at least $3,000 in top shelf liquor!
  • Man, this is a really nice place. Makes ours feel kinds smallish
  • (lightbulb coming on in head) You sold your house in Vinings for $700K? No wonder you can afford all the work you’ve done on this place!
  • Where are the kids?
  • Sure, I’ll take a Corona!
  • No really, we can’t stay too long.
  • Of course you have a Wii already? Doesn’t everyone EXCEPT my kids?
  • Um, spoiled much?
  • You’re fifty? Dang!
  • I smell poopy diapers.
  • Best get going.
  • Thanks again.
  • I can’t see a damn thing backing down this hill. I hope I don’t hit her green designer Target lawn bags!

Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. We had a good time, and cut the playdate at about 2 hours right when the dad was talking about lighting up the firepit outside. I’m not sure how they saw the evening playing out, but we left at 5 p.m. Any longer and we’d have been cutting into dinner and baths and such and to my knowledge, there was no invitation to dinner.

Maybe it’s just me, but do you ever get the feeling when you meet new people that you’re being sized up as a couple for a potential “swingers party” invitation? While I’m not interested (much), I would like to think that CareerMom and I would be at the top of any swinger’s party list because we’re just THAT good looking. Much like, I’m not gay, but I would probably get all offended if gay men didn’t think I was boyfriend material (does that make me gay?).

People are funny though. CareerMom and I were both taken aback by their house, and their stories of yearly “Adult Only” trips, because one of the first times we met the mom, she was complaining about her daughter wanting a jumpy thing at her birthday party and the mom was saying how she wasn’t going to spend $50 on it.

I guess it just comes down to priorities. If it made my kid happy, I’d forgo the vacation to Aruba so I could splurge on his birthday party.

Anyway, it was good to meet new folks and their son is definitely good friend material, so time well spent.

Hey, in case I don’t talk to any of you before Thursday, have a fantastic Thanksgiving!

One of these days, I’ll just have to wipe my own hiney

MLIs potty station According to a survey by the U.S. Dept. of Agriculture (agriculture?), it now costs approximately $204,000 to raise a child in the U.S. That number is up about 15% from the same study in 1960.

However, I postulate that the data are off in certain areas and that if we adjusted today’s costs to compensate, the number would be sharply higher than 15%. What am I talking about? I’m talking about poop (of course!).

Like many kids (hopefully), neither of my boys like to get their hands messy. This is especially true for MLI, who, as I’ve blogged about previously, is borderline OCD with certain things. He doesn’t like to get paint on his hands. At dinner, if he gets a sauce on the side of his arm, he freaks out. Even water causes him grief until both CareerMom and I have assured him that “Honey, water dries.”

So it should come as no surprise that when it comes to poop, the whole potty thing is a veritable colonostic Hiroshima just waiting to happen!

The problem is compounded even more by the fact that he has a small…um…colon (or something), thereby making it difficult for him to poop. So, we have to keep him on a small dose of laxative. Therefore, when he does go, it’s often messier than usual. To help prevent potty time meltdowns due to the mess factor, and so that one of us didn’t have to stand there with a wet washcloth, a long time ago CareerMom bought a box of “Kandoo.” They are billed as “moist” wipes for kids, and I suspect, based on their price, that the goal is to get the kid hooked on them now, so that they will forever eschew dry T.P. in favor of the overpriced moist towelettes for the hiney!

(Secretly, I kinda like them too, and I once remember seeing a comment on “Year of the Chick’s” blog about how we men (unsanitary trolls that we are), should all use them.)

Anyway, the things cost a friggin’ arm and a leg. Even the generic store brand ones get expensive when the kid sits in there after pooping and uses twenty at a time. CareerMom and I, both knowing this is going on, try to get in there to prevent such widespread abuse of the moist towellete, but we are usually met with a shrieking, “NOOOOOOoooooo” and a door slammed on our toes.

If anyone has an alternative, I’m all ears. I mean, that $15 a month on moist towelettes (I said “moist” four times *snicker*) could be diverted to his college fund, or my HDTV fund or something REALLY important like that!

To my next-door neighbor, I’m sorry for doubting you.

ugly hybrid  My next-door neighbor, let’s call him “Bill” since, well, that’s his name. Bill is getting on up there. I mean, the guy has to be nearing sixty. He has a son who started high school this year. His wife works out of town a lot and he’s retired, so he spends a lot of time by himself. Bill is a tad quirky, but there’s absolutely no way he’ll ever find my blog so I feel pretty safe writing about him.

Recently, Bill purchased himself one of these little Honda convertible sports cars. It’s not new, but it’s very similar to the new S2000. Anyway, the point is, it’s a sports car. And he’s almost 60. So, every time I see him backing the thing out of his driveway, I’m saying, “There goes Bill’s mid-life mobile.” In my head. (credit goes to comedian Bobby Collins)

See, I’ve never really gotten the whole mid-life-crisis car purchase. It just seemed a tad…dumb.


As I mentioned, CareerMom’s speedometer went out in her car last week and since there are apparently very stringent rules on who can fix speedometers here in Georgia, we had to leave it in the shop for a few days while they order new parts. In return, we got a Dodge Charger as a rental. That’s the V6, 3.5L 368HP Dodge Charger gentlemen.

Now I understand the mid-life-crisis car purchase!

After having driven underpowered mini-SUVs and pickup trucks for nigh on the last ten years, I’d forgotten how much fun a REAL car can be. It’s like a drug. I sit behind the wheel of this thing, with my new blue-tinted sunglasses on and my hair gelled just perfectly, and it’s like I’m 18 again.

I was able to take the car out a couple of times this weekend for short trips (once to the grocery store – woo wee! and once to the mall) and each time I did, I felt like a completely different person. I didn’t feel like the guy who’d changed three super-nasty poopy diapers that day. I didn’t feel like the guy who has a nice chunk of “rainy day cash” in his checking account and who, rather than buying himself a new HDTV will probably end up spending it on “something for the house.”
No, for about an hour this weekend, I was a MAN again.

Yeah, I said it! Without the kids, driving this cool car, I felt like a REAL MAN! And ooooooh, it felt good.

Today, they are supposed to get the new speedometer in and then CareerMom will go pick up her Taurus wagon thing. It’s not bad. But it’s no Dodge Charger “police version” super-stud mobile.

I’m sorry Bill. Me and you…simpatico my friend.