Today is my son’s actual birthday, and I forgot to tell him Happy Birthday…

Romi’s comment prompted me to at least make a small effort to blog, so here goes.
BTW: Yes, the title is true. But in my defense, we had a family party last Sunday and he\’s having a dual-party with a bud of his next weekend, so cut me slack for forgetting that today is his actual birthday!!

Day 3: CareerMom comes home this evening sometime around dinner. Her flight lands around 4ish and then she has to trek all the way up through Atlanta to the burbs. So, figure around 5:30-6 p.m.

I looked around the house with a critical eye this morning and it was NOT pretty. Normally when she’s gone, I have time to work, take care of the boys AND clean, but this time around, the cleaning part fell victim to work that I had to do after putting the boys to bed. I had not swept. I had not vacuumed. I DID turn on the dishwasher and a load of clothes (no folding…), so yay me!

One thing I will say though, is now that the boys are 5 and 2 years old, it is WORLDS easier than it was when I had an actual baby to deal with, which is ultimately why I have been looking upon this pending baby in August with such dread. CareerMom’s job is not going to get any easier, nor will it involve less travel as long as she\’s with this company. So this time next year, I’ll be blogging about doing this all over again, except this time I\’ll have a 6-month old to deal with!

What’s a guy to do? My job is important too, but just because I don’t travel, then by proxy, it’s less important. It means that when she DOES travel, that extra hour or two I usually gain by not having to take the kids to daycare, or pick them up, when she’s here working from home, is now built into late night work while everyone else sleeps. I mean, even though my boss is a mom herself, and she understands what I’m dealing with, she’s also still my boss and my deadlines are her deadlines.

I’m sure CareerMom would balk at the mere suggestion that her career is more important than mine, but each time she goes out of town, leaving me to do my usual duties, plus hers…then we really see what’s #1 around here. Cuz, when I told her that this was a BAD week for her to be gone, I don’t remember her saying, “Really? OK, I’ll get out of it.”

I submit, clause 7 from a random Partnership agreement:

Management Duties and Restrictions
The partners shall have equal rights in the management of the partnership business, and each partner shall devote their entire time to the conduct of the business. Without the consent of the other partner neither partner shall on behalf of the partnership borrow or lend money, or make, deliver, or accept any commercial paper, or execute any mortgage, security agreement, bond, or lease, or purchase or contract to purchase, or sell or contract to sell any property for or of the partnership other than the type of property bought and sold in the regular course of its business.

Restated for Marriage
The partners shall have equal rights in the management of the partnership household business, and each partner shall devote their entire time to the conduct of the business. Without the consent of the other partner, neither partner shall on behalf of the partnership make decisions to increase the capital expenditures, increase the net assets (either human or inanimate), or dissolve third-party relationships with other partnerships. In the event that either partner stays absent from the partnership for a length of time that detrimentally affects the performance of the other partner, upon said partner\’s return, the partner who faithfully remained and carried out the duties of the partnership, shall have the option to immediately disregard any and all provinces within this partnership; thereby, freeing the partner to spend money flagrantly, drink heavily, and generally act in a manner that might normally be deemed inappropriate.

The sad truth though, is that upon her return, though she will immediately “set me free,” instead of going and doing something fun for myself, I’ll probably just sit down and do more work.

Yeah, I’m THAT behind.


Go ahead, take away my Man Card

image Men have codes. We have a LOT of codes. And the funny thing is, for a gender that has, historically at least, been maligned as little more than sex-starved warmongers, most of our codes involve things like chivalry and bravery and good stuff like that.

But, if I’m being honest, we do have codes about sex and war, so there is some fact at the bottom of all that history.

At night, I have a routine. Once the kids are in bed, I get myself cleaned up, check my e-mail and then I usually retire to bed with CareerMom where we lie in bed and watch TV (unless we have other things on our minds). Most of the time, CareerMom is good about letting me watch what I want to watch because, unless we’re engaged in witty banter, she’s usually asleep within 30 minutes anyway. So the few times that she does actually want to watch something, I give in.

And that’s how I started watching “The Bachelor” this season.

Yeah, I know, I know. Don’t start with me guys!

To be honest, there are things about this show that redeem themselves, such as the 25 beautiful women walking around all dolled up for the first few episodes. But, as time goes on, and the Bachelor sends them home one by one, the eye candy dwindles and you’re left watching some young stud try and woo these women using all of his charms.

Now one of the codes we men have revolves around how we married guys rally behind our single brethren. At the risk of sounding like a pig, it’s a bit of a “living vicariously through another” thing. Sure, I may be happily married, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate watching a master at work. Heck, I bet even Bob Ross would have appreciated watching, oh I don’t know…what’s that “Painter of Light” guy’s name?

Anyway, I’ve been mentally giving this year’s Bachelor a “You go BOY!” as he cut the list of ladies down to these last three; but last night, I must say I lost all respect for the guy. Even followers of “The Code” have a line and that line involves marriage. When you get down to the nitty gritty and you start talking marriage, then I think you have to stop and re-evaluate your actions and perhaps adopt the “other code” that we married men follow.

The Married Man’s Code:

My wife is my best friend. Her trust I shall not betray. Daily, I am tempted, but my promise is stronger than any temptation. I can look, discreetly, but I shall not touch. I respect my wife and I will not disrespect either her, or her memory, in the presence of others.

There’s more to it, but we sort of make it up as we go.

But this Bachelor guy, he’s a piece of work. Now granted, so much of this show is manufactured that it’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s not. But what IS obvious, is that this guy is a couple of dates away from asking a girl to marry him, and he’s spending the night, in the same room, with three different women. Even I can’t get behind that.

But I think what clinched it for me last night was when the second woman asked him the question: “Your house is on fire. What one thing would you grab as you ran out the door.”

I’ll pause here and ask you this question. What would you grab? Well, I’ll tell you that the first thing that came to my mind was, “my son.”

What did our Bachelor say? “My Air Jordan tennis shoes” or something like that.

I’m sorry, did you just say that you’d grab your shoes over your child? And this is after making a huge deal about family and how important they are. And while I’m bustin’ on this guy, here’s my other complaints:

  • Do you own anything other than a dark sweater and jeans? These ladies are dressed to the hilt for you and you have on your Levis.
  • OK, so you have a BA in Psychology. Still, quit staring at the girls like they are bugs. It makes them nervous and then they just start gabbing and saying stupid stuff, which you should know.

I can only imagine how the parents of these girls feel as they watch this guy, who their daughter is in love with, close the blinds on his love-nest with another women. Sheesh.

There is another code I’ve yet to mention and it goes something like this:

“R.E.S.P.E.C.T. Find out what it means to me….”

Behind every memory…is a Coffee Mug?

If there’s an adult male in your house over the age of 30, it’s a pretty good bet that if Gordon Elliott and the cast of “Doorknock Dinners” were to suddenly show up at your house and go scrounging through your pantry, they’d find a number of unmatched coffee mugs, complete with various pictures, logos, and catch-phrases.

I thought about this as I was emptying the dishwasher and trying to find a place for some of our mugs the other day. Now, CareerMom is an avowed packrat and I’m generally a “tosser” (and not in a British kinda way). I don’t normally get sentimental over knick-knacks so its easy for me to just throw things out.

Knowing this, I was taken aback to discover that, as I was moving the mugs around and trying to decide which ones to keep and which ones to toss out, that more than a few held very strong sentimental value. Like markers in my life, each of them pointed at some very good, or notsogood, time in my life and I was hesitant to get rid of them.

If you’re interested:

IMG_2320I got this mug at the Georgia Renaissance Festival back in 2000. CareerMom and I had just gotten married the fall prior and I had quit a very lucrative contract job (making the same money 9 years ago that I’m making now) so I could move back to Atlanta and get married. I remember that we really didn’t have much spending cash, but I really wanted one of these cool mugs (filled at the time of purchase, with beer) because it was a typically steamy June day and because I really liked the mug. So, CareerMom bought it for me and I’ve treasured it ever since.

IMG_2321I grew up in Alabama, and though I wasn’t lucky enough to go to the U. of Alabama, I will forever be a fan! CareerMom got her B.A. at U. of Texas and did her graduate studies at Georgia Tech. And though we don’t actually use these cups much, they are as much a part of our lives as anything else. I just can’t seem to part with them.


IMG_2322Much like my career, this mug symbolizes the hayday of my single life. I was young, I took contract jobs where I often got to do very fun and different things. One time, I worked for a railroad company planning a large telecommunications rollout. Part of my job was to help complete some maps. This was in the day before everything was on the Internet, so I was poring over what few maps were available via Mapquest, plus some maps we had on a program on disk, trying to figure out where the railroad tracks went across the U.S. The logo on this mug has long since worn off, but the underlying color is still there, shiny and bright. I don’t even remember specifically where I got it; only that it meant something special at the time. Still does really…

IMG_2325…the hell did this come from? It looks like something CareerMom got in a crappy “Thank You” basket at at a baby shower.
It’s outta here!

IMG_2324CareerMom brought this mug, along with a set of platters and such when we got married. I think I’ve seen a similar set at Target on and off over the years. But we pull these mugs out around the Christmas holidays. They are a beautiful green with a snowy scene on them that reminds me of the “Christmas that could be.” We will probably never have a white Christmas here in Atlanta, but like seeing the first leaves drop and feeling that first bite of cool Canadian air in October, these mugs always lift my spirits a bit.

IMG_2323When MLE was born, I wanted to make something people could keep. So, I took this picture of him, one of the very first,  and had a mug made up and sent it to all of our family members. For very obvious reasons, I can never throw this one out. I thought about this cup this morning as I was eating breakfast and MLE came down and asked to sit in my lap. I really love that little guy!

IMG_2327CareerMom brought this and another mug like it back from San Francisco recently. Not that I’m a fan of San Fran mind you, but the mugs are very interesting. The  scenery is raised on the mug making it a very tactile drinking experience. They also hold a LOT of coffee, which is a boon in the mornings when you’re already making umpteen trips up and down the stairs retrieving various things for the kids while trying to get ready. They seem kind of fragile though, so I suspect I’ll break them before I actually tire of them. Since these are relatively new, I’m not sure yet what the memory of these will be in 5 years. Perhaps thinking back of all the time I was able to spend with my boys by myself as she traveled for work. (*whisper* It’s kinda really fun when she’s gone!)

IMG_2326Ah, our old standby coffee mugs. These are our everyday, eat and drink whatever you want outta them, cups. Fruit, teas, coffee…they take them all. They aren’t flashy, but there’s lots of them and they do the job.

It’s kinda like our marriage really. Maybe they’re not the most exciting all the time, but they’re strong, and there whenever you need ’em.

People collect things specifically for the memories they make, but coffee cups are one of those things that you just sort of pick up along the way, no special reason. But, that’s what makes them special. Like the picture on the wall that, in time, you tend to ignore, pulling one of these gems out of the back of the cabinet and reliving the sentiment behind it is special.

A momentary, “Oh Crap!”

 Which day is my anniversary on?

This morning as I sat at my desk, I momentarily panicked because I couldn’t remember today’s date and I knew that my anniversary was either today or tomorrow. I quickly double-clicked on my desktop’s calendar icon and thankfully, it’s tomorrow and luckily I still have time to get a card this afternoon and perhaps a bottle of bubbly and still look like a hero tomorrow. Before you ladies crucify me though, I had already booked a night away next weekend, which includes in-room champagne, chocolate covered strawberries, breakfast and a 50-minute massage. So, it’s not like I totally forgot about our anniversary. I guess in my mind I’d already “taken care of it” so I had just let it fall to the back on my “most important things to focus on this week” list.

But then my mind played a trick on me and I wondered if my anniversary was really tomorrow (the 6th) or today (the 5th) and perhaps I was remembering the date wrong. And what if  CareerMom, rather than telling me “Happy Anniversary” this morning, was waiting it out to see how long I’d go before remembering it. Kinda like giving me enough rope to hang myself with. Even as I type this, I’m 99% sure we got married on the 6th, but I’m still in 1% panic mode that maybe I’m wrong! This is why men should always get their wedding date engraved on the inside of their wedding band. I didn’t.

But man, I never thought I’d be “that guy.” I remember being single and thinking, “Wow! How could a guy ever forget his anniversary? What a stooge!” And now here I am, airing out my armpits after a ten second, sweaty panic attack over having done just that.

At least I did plan something though, so I’m not coming down too hard on myself. But even still, with all the planning and reminder tools I have at my disposal, why haven’t I set myself a reminder? Before my wife’s birthday I should have a reminder pop up a week prior that says, “Yo dawg! Don’t forget that CareerMom’s birthday is three days before yours.” That works—cuz, you know I’m not going to forget my birthday. Same thing for our anniversary.

But I’ll tell you, before I go judging other men on their forgetfulness, I’ll first stop and remind myself that life is stressful and demanding. Sometimes it’s easy to forget things, but even if/when you do, it doesn’t mean you don’t care.