Tag: Dad Blog

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Dad Blogs Family Marriage

I never saw an "over-30" Barbie

sunbathingSavvy men know that there are certain boundaries one is not allowed to cross–wait, make that should never cross–with women. One of those is giving your best friend’s hot wife a kiss, even if it’s one of those wannabe European dual-cheek kisses. Another is anything to do with a woman’s weight, and most especially, if you’re married to her, or you are otherwise enjoying a FWB kinda relationship.

Just recently, a very attractive lady at my office openly wore a maternity shirt for the first time since she got pregnant. I had first noticed that she might be pregnant a couple of months ago, but having been through two pregnancies with my wife, and having listened to her come home and complain every day about the many unsavory comments she received, I kept my mouth shut until I was certain this lady was pregnant and even when I did acknowledge it, I did so with a hearty congratulations and some joke about how I thought she was pregnant but how I wasn’t going to stick my foot in my mouth until I was sure. I thought I was very clever and witty–she probably thought that I thought I was very clever and witty–but really wasn’t.

But we men have realized that simply knowing when to play dumb is not enough. See, women test us from time to time and we men have to be ready–constantly on guard.

Just this morning I fixed myself and CareerMom a faux-egg McMuffin and it was one of those rare occasions where we both get to eat breakfast together. I sat down with my egg McFaux and the latest full-color Burpee catalog; she sat down with her breakfast and the latest Lands End swimsuit catalog.

The Lands End swimsuit catalog is not for teens or for supermodels. Nossir, it’s for normal women. Women who perhaps, have had children and who aren’t quite bold enough to go sunbathing in Brazil. So the entire catalog is full of swimsuits with catchy slogans like, “Minimizes those problem areas” and “Strut your stuff without showing too much.”

Problem areas? Stuff? I guess a problem area for a woman is like my love handles. They’re there and nothing short of going all bulimic on it is going to make it go away. So I avoid tight-waisted clothes so as to minimize the muffin-top effect.

Anyway, I’m sitting there drooling over the shiny, waxed peppers in my catalog when CareerMom reads from hers:

“OK honey, do I need a swimsuit that:
A. Minimizes my shoulders and bust?
B. Slims my tummy and waist
OR
C. Minimizes my hips and thighs?”

Dude, I froze. Time stood still. The sandwich in my mouth just sat there collecting drool while my mind feverishly searched for the right answer. The two sides of my brain warred with each other; the right side pleading for me to say something clever and funny in an attempt at diffusing the situation; the left side begging for some semblance of sanity while also reminding me that CareerMom was going out of town next week and that I’d probably want to be in my wife’s good graces this weekend.

Probably two or three seconds went by and finally, the perfect response won out and I said,

“I’m not touching that with a ten foot pole. How stupid
do you think I am anyway?”

CareerMom just smiled and nodded her head. I finished my breakfast, got up from the table and as I was putting my dishes in the dishwasher, right brain won out and I blurted,

“Do they have one that maximizes your breasts
and shoulders?”

Damn…I couldn’t just let it go could I?

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Dad Blogs Family Fatherhood Marriage

Count your blessings, name them one by one…

Yesterday was one of those picture-perfect weather days here in Atlanta. The weather was in the cool 60s with very little hint of humidity. We spent the better part of the afternoon outdoors to maximize the “happy time” we get from the boys being entertained, which few things does better than being outside.

What gets me though, is how few other people do the same. Our neighborhood is about a mile long and there are a couple hundred houses here. We also have a neighborhood playground and nine out of ten times we’re the only family out walking or at the playground. We’ve been trying to hook up with other families that have kids the same age as ours and it’s darn-near impossible to do when you never see anyone else.

owlAfter the kids went to bed, I fired up the outdoor speakers and turned on some new agey/classical music and then CareerMom and I sat on the back porch in the glider and enjoyed a glass of Shiraz while watching the bats scarf up what few bugs are out this time of year. Just before it got dark, I got a shot of this fella (I do believe it’s a Spotted Owl)  perched on a tree branch over the creek waiting on some tasty night critter to come out. He’s bigger than he looks. He was about the size of a large hawk. Pretty cool huh?

Anyway, it was good to sit back and enjoy the weather. Sometimes in the hullabaloo that is life, it’s easy to forget what’s right outside your door. It’s also easy to lose sight of what’s right inside your door too.

I’ve got the best of both worlds. I’m pretty blessed.

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Dad Blogs Family Marriage

How Chris lost his groove…

After writing yesterday’s blog, I got to thinking about my quick comment about the 18-year old beverage cart girl at the golf course. Then I remembered the details surrounding this little encounter and after running it through my head a dozen times, I realized that I am totally clueless around other women.

Let me explain…

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Hot ChicksOn Sunday, I was sharing a golf cart with a friend of mine. He’s a bachelor; successful, reasonably good looking, etc. He’s also a known horndog with two houses in TX, but he lives here in Atlanta, and I’m pretty sure he has women in both locales.

On the course Sunday, we were rounding about the 9th hole when the beverage cart came motoring up the hill towards us. We were both frustrated enough with our game by then to need (YES! “need”) an alcoholic beverage, so we hailed down the cart.

For the uninitiated, it’s normal practice for the golf course manager to employ hot college-age girls to run these carts. It’s not because they are trying to exploit women; no, it’s more like the “Hooters” philosophy:

Hot girls = More Business

So, it’s simple economics.

However, today’s beverage cart girl was actually two girls, a brunette and a blonde. The brunette was driving, and her friend, the blonde, sat beside her with a blanket thrown over her legs to presumably, stay warm in the drizzly, gray soup we were playing in.

As the cart pulled up beside ours, the blonde said in a very attractive southern drawl, “Can I get ya’ll something?”

To which my friend replied, “Can I get a Diet Coke?”
Not wanting to be the first guy to get a beer, I seconded his request and the blonde removed her blanket and got up to fish our drinks from the back cooler. It was at this time, that I “noticed” the blonde and I looked over at my friend to see his reaction and as expected, he raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked over at me. We both gave that, “Yep, I agree” nod and walked around to pay the lady.

Now this is where I got all fuzzy. After noticing how cute she was, my married-ness kicked in and I found myself unable to look at her again. I couldn’t look at her eyes, I couldn’t look at her…shirt…nuthin! I also apparently went stone deaf! Because, according to my friend, she then sassed the both of us with a, “What’re you boys doin’, watchin’ your figures?”

Now, even the jaded among you must agree that was a flirtatious opening statement if you’ve ever heard one and had I been younger and single (and not deaf), I would have responded in kind. As it was, I was too busy acting like some gangly, uncomfortable teenager putzing around in my golf bag in the back of the cart. So much so that I didn’t hear my friend and her strike up a conversation, despite her being about 20 years younger than him.

The next memory I have is of us puttering away and my friend saying, “Wow, they sure grow them big up here in rural Georgia,” speaking not of her weight or height, but of her…well, you know.

Thinking about all the many the couple of times I’m reasonably confident that I’ve been hit on by other women since I’ve been married, and knowing how I react around good looking women, I have to say that, should (Heaven forbid) anything ever happen to make me a single guy again, I’m pretty sure I’d become a reclusive hermit; spending my days in the gym and my nights in front of the computer surfing for gym clothes. Because I seem to have lost all the Game that I ever had. And I’m not talking about Golf here now either.

I’ve really gotta get outta the house more.

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Dad Blogs Family Fatherhood Marriage

I’m not Irish, but occasionally I play one in my head…

Ordered Chaos

There’s an old Irish folksong (read: bar song) called “Seven Drunken Nights” and it starts with:

“When I came home, on Monday night, as drunk as drunk could be…” (here’s a link to the lyrics if you’re inclined)

…and it goes on through all seven days of the week and it details how this drunk keeps coming home finding items left over from his wife’s apparent “lover” though she pretends that he’s too drunk to see straight and explains to him that what he’s seeing is not really what’s going on (though it is).

No, no…my wife isn’t cheating on me. My point is that sometimes when I’m sitting there at home in my own little world of calm as the chaos swirls around me, these lyrics spring to mind and I chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. For instance, last night:

____________________________________________________________

CareerMom got home from her trip to Orlando at around 7:00 p.m. By then, I’d been feeding the boys sugary snacks in a vain attempt at staving off their hunger till she could get home with the dinner I called in to the local pizza n’ pasta shop. As we got the table set and just sat down to eat, CareerMom yells, “Knikki!”  (apparently, my Doberman was puking on the kitchen floor).

So I hopped up and opened the door and shooed her outside. I closed the door and sat down to feed MLE while CareerMom cleaned up the puke. Thanks heavens for linoleum!

About five minutes later, MLI says, “Why did Knikki puke on the floor?” and I explained that she’s old and sometimes her tummy gets sick. He nodded and thoughtfully poked at his food.

Five minutes later, “I’m done, may I be excused?” he says. I nod and he gets down from the table and walks into the living room.

“Eeeeewww! Knikki puked in here too!”

At this point, I knew the liquidity from the puke had seeped into the carpet by now leaving only “chunks” on top and also, I have supreme confidence in the aforementioned “SpotBot” to clean it up so I said to CareerMom, “Don’t worry about it. Enjoy your dinner and we’ll clean it up later.”
Then to MLI I said, “OK, let’s not talk about puke anymore.” To which he nodded and then went and sat on the stairs.

A couple of minutes went by, “I can see the puke from over here.”

“Honey,” I said, starting to get slightly annoyed now, “I told you already that I don’t want to hear another word about the puke. You already ate and now mommy and daddy are trying to enjoy their dinner. Not another word.”

A couple of minutes passed and by this time MLE was stuffed, and out of boredom, was leaning waaaaaay out of his high-chair in an attempt at escape, so we put him down on the floor to play.

Then  from the stairs, I hear MLI yell, “Don’t let him go in the living room or he’ll step in the puke!”

Which was true, but which also made “it” click in my head and then all hell broke loose. Dinner was over, regardless of whether or not I wanted it to be. Both CareerMom and I hopped up from the table. She grabbed MLE as he was running into the living room, where he would no doubt trip up at the critical moment and fall face first into “said” puke. I turned to MLI, “I told you not another word about the puke. Go to your room!”

“But why?”

“Because I said so and don’t talk back to me. Now go!”

He stomped upstairs and slammed his door, while life went on downstairs; just me, CareerMom, MLE and our beloved Spotbot.

Did I mention that I had on some lovely classical music in the background? Just another soothing dinner.

And then, like the closing of some gritty western, where the cowboy rides off into the sunset amidst the lonely whistle of a prairie song, I heard in my head, “…oh there’s a many a days I’ve traveled, a hundred miles or more, but a quiet dinner with my lovely wife…sure I’ve never seeeeen beeeefooooore.”

Yep, absurdity among chaos. That’s family life for ya!