Tag Archives: parenting

“Oh how I love thee..let me count the ways, then multiply, and divide by 3.”

Where would I be without Math? All the hours I spent in Geometry class, trying to prove a shape was a triangle. Because looks alone can’t determine that, so we have to calculate that by figuring out angles, flipping a coin, and making sure your body is facing wherever Kim Kardashian’s bottom is sitting. Oh how useful it is, because I get confused on wether my beloved pizza slice is indeed a triangle or a really bad impression of a triangle.

And let’s not forget to honor word problems. Because where would we be of we did not know what time a train leaving New York would reach Chicago if it was going 89.7 miles per hour. That practice has been a lifesaver. It helped me figure out wether I should get married.

“If my feelings were in LA….and her feelings were in San Francisco. And they needed to reach the city of ‘marriage’…how fast would the feelings need to develop by 1130 pm? And what about roadblocks? Ok….add ‘baggage’….’insecurity’….multiply by ‘fake facebook accounts’….and divide by the number of sexual partners the person as had….hmm…add erectile dysfunction. ….subtract increased paranoia due to a best friend being of the opposite sex….ok…is that greater than or equal to divorce?”

We would be fools to forget good ole Pythagoras. Who is he? The guy who created the Pythagorean theorem.

A squared + B squared = c squared

Yes, without that theory I wouldn’t know if the urinal I choose to use in the men’s bathroom is too close to the next male. Would that decrease my feeling of comfort? What if the guy turns to me and says “looks like its cold in here”? What if the guy is chewing gum while doing this? Will I be grossed out? And if I  don’t calculate the correct distance to stay away from the nearest urinating man, will he try to engage in a full debate on nuclear negotiations between North Korea and the US.

We owe all this power to Math.

The Daily Post-Game of Groans

Advertisements

” Oh, the places you will go..”

Three super items and I only have enough money for one.

1. Helmet of Invisibility
2. An Anywhere Door
3. A Time Machine

You can only choose one. I really can’t see a good reason to have invisibility. Do I really want to have the power to spy on conversations and hear things I don’t want to hear? Sorry not my thing. But what about an “anywhere door?” The power to get anywhere in a second. I would never be late for work…..late for anything. But again, not very useful to me because I probably would only use that door to buy food or decrease the amount of laziness I have. Think about it….I can see myself sitting on the couch watching TV.

“A croissant…..and a donut? A cronut? Wow, sounds good.” Poof, I get one.

“An 18 inch corndog in Milwaukee?”
Poof….I get one.

A few more trips through the anywhere door and I wouldn’t be able to move anywhere cause of all the weight I gained.

So if I had to choose, it would be the Time Machine. I love history so this machine would give me the power to see anything I wanted. Forget the History channel…I would be living history. I would watch Lincoln’s Gettysburg address. Watch George Washington cross the Delaware River on that historic night. Maybe, I felt like seeing dinosaurs…all it would take is one trip. I am fascinated by stories of kings and knights. I could live out my own version on The Game of Thrones, well, minus the beheading stuff. And what if I want to see the future?  Do we all just become zombies later? Are there flying cars? I could find that out easily. But most of all, this power would allow me to fix the mistakes I made in life. The things that still bother me today. The regrets….the bad decisions.

1.
1998. I was 9. It was my mother’s birthday and I saved money to buy her a gift. I asked her to take me to the department store to buy her a gift. She was so excited. We walk into the store and start walking to the aisle with perfume and birthday cards. But im sidetracked….by the video game aisle. I see this Ninja video game and I look at the l price…..8.99. I have 7.00, enough for a small gift and card for my mother. I grab the game and find my mother.

“Mom, I want to buy this game but I don’t have enough. I need three more dollars. Can I borrow it from you?”

She has a sad look on her face and she hands me three dollars. So not only did I not use the money to buy her a gift, but  she paid for the rest of this Ninja game. What a jerk move. I would hop in my time machine and bring extra money with me and buy her something special.

2.
2004. I was reunited with my future wife. We hung out as friends and she started hanging out with my friends. It was innocent at first but I was developing feelings.The problem was my best friend was developing feelings for her also. He turned to me..

“Hey man, is it cool if I ask her out? I mean, would it be weird because of your history with her?”

“Sure man…no problem. We dated in the past…so its not a big deal.”

But it was a big deal. We had feelings for each other and now we had to hide it. He asked her out and they went on a couple of dates. She showed no interest in him and continued to want to date me. This is where I would have used the time machine. I would have explained my feelings for her. He probably would have understood and backed off. But, I didn’t do that so he found out about my feelings for her much later. He developed feelings of resentment and anger. And basically “unfriended” me. I was ostracized by our group of guy friends. And forced to take a different path. I’ve known that guy since 6th grade….he would have been my best man. I’ve tried numerous times to reconcile…email…..messages through FB. And have received silence.

3. And finally for pig-headed reasons.
Every man’s bucket-list.

What would you choose?

The Daily Post-Pick Your Gadget

“….things you probably don’t want to know.”

Allergies are the worst. You walk around like a zombie because all the medication you took warned of drowsiness. Your eyes are puffy….your nose is running like a faucet so you just balled up tissue and stuck it directly in your nostrils to stop the ooze. Your coughing and breathing hard, so you sound like Darth Vader wherever you go. Its the most unsexy condition known to man. That’s where i am now. I feel weak and every single small task feels like im trying to cure world hunger.  I look at my stairs into my house ans it looks like Mount Everest to me.

“She wanted stairs….I didn’t want stairs.  Who’s bright idea was it to invent stairs? What happened to the old fashioned skill of climbing up walls. What I wouldn’t give to be Spider-Man right now..just shoot a web-thingy out of my arm and float up there. ”

After the slowest trek up a flight of stairs ever in the Guinness Book of World Records…I plopped on my couch and took an inventory. It was nice and quiet. All I could hear was the heaving of my mucus filled lungs. The silence was broken.

“Honey. …can you grab the laundry out of the dryer? ”

I sighed and got up to walk to the garage. I opened up the dryer and something caught my eye. Something in a far away box…it was shiny. I had to know what it was. We are all attracted to shiny things…so my wandered as I figured out a way to get to that box. I began moving box after box and it was finally within grasp. I was wheezing from all this unexpected work. I grabbed the shiny item and looked at it. A plain ol’ CD. I flipped it over and there was writing on it.

“Freaky-Deeky mix….oooohhhhhh”

I was curious. It was my wife’s handwriting. I walked back into the house.

“Hey..babe. What’s this?” I handed it to her. She chuckled.

“Do you really want to know what I used this CD for? What kind of music is on this CD?”

“No…but I bet it whenever you played this ‘Freaky-Deeky’ CD, a bed was involved.”

“Not always…..” She laughed. I had stumbled upon my wife’s old mood music CD. The music she played to become the soundtrack to a night full of nasty activities. I looked at her and I could see her mind churning….thinking of memories and the random dongs that joined in this CD.

I’ve known this woman for 17 years. But I had never asked about her “number.” The amount of men she had slept with. It never bothered me. But I admit, I get weak sometimes. What would I gain if she told me? First of all, she would probably be lying. And no matter what the number was….it would still be too high in my eyes. And more questions would come up.

“Who was your best? Am I the best? Who was ‘bigger? Who? That guy? No way….where is he now? Im going there and asking him to show it….cause you know I have no problem whipping it out for no reason.”

So, I bit my tongue and tabled that question. There are just some questions that you don’t want the answers to.

I’m curious. What about you? Are there questions about your significant other that you don’t want the answers to? Does the ‘number’ bother you?

“I’m a man and I need a purse.”

There comes a time in every man’s life where we contemplate if we could walk a straight line in heels. What….just me? But seriously, I’m jealous of purses. I need a purse but a manly purse. The ability to carry whatever you want….wallet….tissue…extra clothes…food…phone…checkbook is underrated. Men have to carry a lot of stuff too….why cant we be fashionable and manly at the same time? And no, don’t say messenger bags. I don’t want to look like a roaming IT support guy who has a messenger bag and can clear your computer viruses on the drop of a dime. I wear jeans every day. And there is no room for extra accessories in these skinny pockets. My wallet…my keys…an inhaler(I’m an asthmatic)…tissue(allergies)…yes, I’m quite a mess when it comes to health. That’s all I have room for. But what about if I want to store a peanut and jelly sandwich. ..or goldfish crackers for my little one if she gets hungry? And what if I want to sneak snacks into the movies?

“Let’s see….popcorn….two sodas….two candies…one kid size lemonade….that will be 35.00.”

“Wow what a deal! You guys should really charge more for this stuff..I mean, with prices like this you could go out of business.”

And speaking of jealousy, another reason why I’m jealous of women. You have the power to be sexy. That is not a normal male trait. Well, unless you are Ryan Gosling…cause admit it men, even you think he is sexy.

“Nah man that’s fruity….I can’t say he’s sexy. But he does have beautiful blue eyes.”

A man can put his best outfit on…..get his hair done up….kick his best lines….be witty…and still go home and grab his big bottle of lotion.

But a woman could walk into a bar wearing sweat pants…straight out of bed….and still come home with a man. Its the simple things. A woman can sit there and twirl her hair….sexy. She can bite her lip…sexy. Imagine a female going into your closet and putting on one of your shirts on just wearing panties. And if a man goes into a woman’s closet….grabs a blouse or cardigan..puts it on….and walks out wearing that and his whitey-tighties on….sexy? Nope.

And finally, I’m jealous of your bathrooms. Women have individual stalls. You get privacy. We have urinals. We line up and stare straight into the wall because if we look a centimeter to the left or right, the chances are high that some other guys’ s schlong will appear in your periphery. And if that happens,  you will leave the bathroom depressed because that accidental dong-sighting was bigger than yours.

“Heavy breathing + a dog farting + a tiny little screen = Heaven”

An alarm goes off.

“Just five more minutes.” My wife says half-awake.

I lay there staring at the ceiling.

The alarm goes off. I turn to my wife.

“Hey….hey…five minutes.” She turns on zombie mode and walks to the bathroom.

I get up and walk to my little one’s room. She is hiding in the covers, showing me that she is not ready to get up. I grab her clothes for the day.

“Bug….bug. Time to get up.” I hear giggling from under the blanket. I jump on her bed.

“Oh I thought you were still sleeping….tickle alarm is going off.” I go into a tickle rage and tickle her feet. She laughs loudly and jumps out of bed.

The mornings are hectic….filled with getting a little one ready and trying to remember all the “honey-do’s” my wife tells me why she walks around getting ready. Most of this is done while she is in the shower, and it’s hard to pay attention to your wife reminding you about permission slips while she is wearing no clothes.

“Ok ok. I got it. But can you just stand there naked for just a few more minutes.” She laughs and closes the shower door.

Twenty minutes later, we are all out the door. I press play on my CD player in the car and the Frozen soundtrack fills my speakers.

“Yay! Thank you daddy!” My little proceeds to sing each song word by word with amazing accuracy.

Ten minutes later,  I drop her off.

“I love you daddy!”

“I love you too, my love. ”

Thats when my day starts. And what follows is 7 hours of dealing with high school angst. Wether its discussing the beauty of the five paragraph essay, discussing steategy in Call of Duty or Clash of Clans, conversing about Miley Cyrus and twerking, or breaking up teenage couples who are expressing “too much” affection to each other.

“Hey…hey you. Are you a dentist? Found a new way to do oral surgery with your mouth? I don’t think anyone wants to see you perform this miraculous new technology in the hallways….so stop.”

I love my job. It reminds me of when I was a teenager who filled these halls…in and out of detention. But this still isn’t my favorite part of the day.

My favorite part is usually around 11:00 at night.

I walk into a dark room with only a cell phone light to lead the way. I walk to my little one’s room to check on her. I see her asleep in a mound full of Hello Kitty blankets. I kiss her forehead and move slowly into my room and bed. I lay in bed and observe my surroundings. To the left, is a wife breathing heavily in deep sleep. And on the floor is the family dog…farting in his sleep. I turn to my phone in my hand and look at my apps. I proceed to press a bright red colored app….and watch my Netflix app boot up. Walter White and Jesse Pinkman fill my little cell phone screen. Heaven. These past 10 minutes are my favorite part of the day….

The Daily Post-Favorite routine

“Thank you, Whitney Houston”

I sat down and pulled out my lunch….peanut butter and jelly. I checked my emails…updated statuses….liked pics on instagram..all the regular things I do during my lunch break. As I was about to take another bite of my sandwich, I started to hear yelling filled with profanities. I surveyed my area to see where it was coming from and saw a group of teens.

“I told you man….one more time. Say it…one more time and its on.”

“No man, I’m not doing it. This is stupid.”

“You’re stupid…stupid ass.” His friends behind him laughed in unison. I looked at the other boy. He was by himself.

“Give me the answers….I told you, you are doing my homework…tell me to do it myself again….say it…”

I got up to break up the discussion. As I walked towards the teens, I noticed someone had beat me to it….another teenager.

“Stop….stop. Its not worth it. Just go….just go to class.”

The group of angry teenagers stormed off…especially when they saw me walking towards them. All that was left was the boy who was threatened and the teenager who broke up the fight. I called them over.

“Come here…I want to talk to you two.” The two teenagers stood up and walked up to me slowly.

“You’re not in trouble….do you know who Whitney Houston is?

The teens looked at each other. “No.”

“She sang a song called ‘The Greatest love of all.’ And one of the lines is….’i believe the children are our future….teach them well and let them lead the way..” I looked at them for confirmation.

“Oh…oh…yeah my mom sang that on karaoke once…yeah.”

I smiled.

“I wake up every day…and I read the news….and all I see is bad news. Crimes….violence….war….people hurting each other. And then I get depressed.”

The teens just stood there and stared. I continued.

“I get down on this world…I think there is no hope. But you know what keeps me doing what I do? This….this right here. Through all the trouble. ..all the problems in the world, I get glimpses of hope, leadership, bravery, and courage. Thank you for that.”

“I just didn’t want him to get beat up, teach.”

“Yes, to you, it see me small. But what about other kids who saw what you did? They saw you stand up for yourselves. They saw you be brave. And maybe, just maybe, it gave them a little bravery and courage too. They can do what you do.”

The teens smiled.

“Now get to class….or I will start singing that whole Whitney Houston song. And you know I suck at singing.” The teens walked away.

That’s my reason to believe. I believe in our children…our future. I look at my little kindergarten daughter and see the same hope. I see the same curiosity. I see the same sense of justice I feel. And I know, there are many other young people out there who have the same sense of justice.

The Daily Post-Reason to believe

“6 lbs 7 ounces”

“Sir….sir…hello sir?”

“Yes…sorry..yes?”

“Cut the umbilical cord please….please.”

“Oh ok, I don’t know…umm. What if I cut a toe off on accident? You guys have to tools to fix that right? Or do those grow back?”

“No…cut it now please.”

I did. And I watched this brand new human being crying her lungs out. She looked right at me and seemed to cry even louder as if to say:

“This guy is supposed to take care of me? Great….here’s to a future of therapy.”

Thr doctor took her away to give her her first bath. He turned to me and said, “congratulations on your baby girl. He handed me my little one. I received her and looked at my wife. I was smiling from ear to ear. She looked puzzled.

“Why are you holding her like that? You are holding her like a fresh loaf of bread out of the oven…” She grabbed the baby and showed me how to do it. I was nervous. I looked around the room…. there seemed to be blood everywhere.

“Hey Doc, why does it look like an episode of CSI in here?” He laughed and said, “pretty normal.”

It had been a long nine months. They were filled with weird food cravings, mood swings, and sexless nights. But, she was finally here. I was clueless. I looked at my wife and asked her to look at the baby.

“I see an instruction manual wasn’t included….I think we need to call customer service and request one.”

That’s my pride and joy. Watching her first steps, hearing her first words, and seeing her smile for the first time….those are memories I will never forget. She has changed our lives forever. I still can’t believe how lucky I am…

The Daily Post-Pride and Joy