Tag Archives: cat

Before the coffee kicks in- the “it has mostly replaced my blood” edition

I haven’t done one of these in a while. My kindergartener is off to school. Her little sister is busy being three years old. The cat it hiding and my wife is getting ready for a pre-work appointment. I am trying to plan out the day’s errands and finding my brain is uncooperative. So the time has come once again to sit my ass down with more coffee, open up this blog, and write down the thought poops that drop out. So here we go.

Sometimes I think the cat is part owl.

Sometimes I think my children are part Chihuahua.

When did being intelligent start becoming a liability?

I need more fun socks.

I want to know why I have dreams about fighting for my life.

Where can I learn how to sew?

My wife looks really cute with glasses. And without glasses.

If my feet were hairy I would actually be a hobbit.

Has anyone actually tried to use a banana as a boomerang?

As a kid I wanted superpowers. As an adult nothing has changed.

If another species develops opposable thumbs and higher reasoning we’re screwed.

Someone should bring me pie.

What age will my kids be when they realize I have no idea what I’m doing?

I think my country should be called the Dysfunctional States of America. I’ve never known it to be united and doubt I ever will. Not necessarily a bad thing.

A hovercraft really isn’t practical for everyday use.

Am I going mad or is this just me getting old?

This is where I am going to stop. My thoughts are starting to become more coherent and that signals the end. Plus, I need to get my daughter ready to go buy some cat food. For the cat, not for my daughter. Though both my children have tasted cat food at one point. It was a learning experience. Enjoy your day.

 

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More Dad Haikus

MYSTERIES

There must be answers.

Yet, daughter, I can’t explain

why you won’t eat lunch.

 

BATH

The screams of pure rage.

You thrash as if set aflame.

It’s only shampoo.

 

CAT

The toddler hugs you.

Feline eyes call out to me,

“What fresh hell is this?”

 

SILENCE

The talking has stopped.

Perhaps the kids are asleep.

No. They plot my doom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Before the coffee kicks in — the headache edition

I realize it’s been a long time since I last posted. I attribute this to a number of things. Some of this has to do with life deciding that other things needed to take priority. So I’m realizing this as my head seems to be in the grips of a sinus headache. Stupid weather can’t decide if it’s still winter or not, so my head is punishing me for it. Perhaps more coffee will help along with Tylenol. Time to ramble.

Why does the cat stare at the tub faucet like she’s worshiping a pagan god?

Depression has been kicking my ass. I may need to talk about adjusting my medication. Not thrilled about it.

Bailey’s Chocolatini creamer is superior to Bailey’s Mudslide creamer.

My children have turned into walking goo factories. So many runny noses.

I miss having a lot of time to do nothing.

Do ducks have their own Navy?

I am so completely fed up with the 2016 election. It has brought out new forms of ugly.

Can we collectively stop pretending our shit doesn’t stink? Is that even a possibility?

It’s interesting to hear the different names and voices Phoebe gives to toys.

Speaking of my favorite preschooler, she is currently demanding my attention. This is making it increasingly difficult to type. So I’m ending this hear. Sorry for the briefness. My will is not my own. Also, the coffee doesn’t seem to be helping. Time to go be daddy.

 

 

Strange talent

People develop as they grow. I’m not just talking about puberty and aging and all the weird biological stuff. People develop abilities, skills, and talents. Some stuff you learn through formal lessons and practice. Other things come naturally to some without much in the way of training. Then there are the things you suddenly become good at without even realizing it. I have become very well acquainted with the third scenario.

Perhaps this makes me some form of a Renaissance man, but one who was part of a very weak Renaissance. I will take this time to share some of these talents with you. Let me again state that these are not things I trained to do from any desire to better myself. These either came about through attempts at self-amusement or by accident. Basically, they just kind of happened over time.

Talent #1- I have found that I can detect smelly poops from another room. Be it diaper, litter box, or someone having a bad reaction to cheese I shall detect it.

Talent #2- If a popular song exists, I will turn it into a song about my cat. Possibly a song about my kids or whatever I’m currently doing. But more than likely the cat.

Talent #3- I have the ability to serve as a human sofa and jungle gym for the previously mentioned cat and children.

Talent #4- As I age, my changing appearance has informed me that I’ve developed a strange metamorphic ability. I appear to be turning into some form of hobbit wizard.

Talent #5- After years of dealing with the general public, I now have the talent to control my urge hit all stupid people with a rolled up magazine and say “Bad human” to them. This has kept me employed.

How about you folks? What strange talents have you developed? Are they a source of pride or a dark secret that you fear will make all shun you? Either way, feel free to share!

Before the coffee kicks in–the late cup edition

This morning, we had to make our way out the door almost immediately. My car had been worked on and needed to be picked up before my wife went to work. The kids were put in Lisa’s car, we picked up mine, transferred the girls, and I drove them back home. Phoebe and Zoe are hanging out in the playroom and I’m just now getting to have some coffee. Also realizing I haven’t posted in a few weeks. So perfect time for me to post the brain marbles that roll around as I wait for the caffeine to do its job.

This last week hurt. I loved David Bowie and Alan Rickman and we lost them both to cancer. It just sucks.

I will never understand people who have to be angry that someone else is happy. They’re not responsible for you not being miserable. But if for some reason they are, just throw mayonnaise at them and move on with your life.

Our cat will never be a professional boxer.

I get to play D&D tomorrow. This pleases me.

My children both seem very interested in what their own feet smell like.

My wife and I have started referring to any nighttime snacks we have as the Fattening.

I hope everyone who cares about it has seen The Force Awakens by now. As for those that do not care, I can only assume they’re plotting something horrible.

There have been a few days lately when hiding under a nest of blankets has been very tempting.

It seems that something you do as an adult is talk about the virtues of crescent roll dough.

I miss Jell-O Pudding Pops, but I fear their legacy has been tainted by the whole Bill Cosby situation.

Okay, folks. That’s all I’ve got in me right now. My girls are also currently demanding that I go join them in the playroom. Never let it by said I’m not willing to spend time with my kids. Hope everyone enjoys their day or, at the very least, doesn’t have a crappy one.

Before the coffee kicks in — the “Pot number 2” edition

Woke up this morning feeling tired, likely from being up a few times last night. My hip feels like it got wacked by someone drunkenly swinging a bat. Okay, maybe just really hard with a badminton racquet but it still hurts. The kids are eating graham crackers. My wife finished off the coffee and I’m on the next pot. Time to let my mind poop and write what comes out.

The days are a series of laundry and dishwasher cycles, broken up by going to work and listening to people behave poorly.

The cat might believe she’s the Hypnotoad of “Futurama” fame. Yet I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know what “Futurama” is. Seriously, Pepper, stop staring at me.

I haven’t been able to spend Halloween, my favorite holiday, with the kids yet. I hate that.

I need to bake more frequently.

I need to eat what I bake less frequently.

My older daughter had one of her toys telling the other that popcorn would give them gas. I don’t know where she came up with that one.

I don’t remember the last time I had fish and chips.

My youngest daughter thinks that giraffes go “vvvvvvffff,” and I’m not completely sure if she’s wrong.

I’m currently humming a song about the cat to the tune of a Backstreet Boys song. I blame many of the girls I was friends with in the late 90s for the fact that I know the tune of a Backstreet Boys song.

I think having children has caused me to detect poopy diaper smells when there are no actual poopy diapers. Either that, or I’m haunted by flatulent ghosts.

I wonder when the next time I get fudge will be? I don’t exactly have excess fudge money.

That’s all I have left. I started drinking the next pot of coffee. But I don’t think it’s working too well. I actually feel sleepier. So I should probably go hang out with the girls. All glory to the Hypnocat.

Before the coffee kicks in — the “I drink too much caffeine” edition

I am consuming yet another coffee this morning. My kids are distracted because “Wallykazam!” is on. He’s a little magic troll who teaches words. Get with the times, people. Ah, screw it. Here’s some things rolling around in my cranium.

Apparently, my cat will actually chase a mouse if she sees one. Can’t catch it, but she’ll chase it. We always thought she’d be afraid of one.

Phoebe started preschool. Beware, society. She’s loose.

Zoe likes to run around with her giraffe blanket on her head. I know how she feels.

I’ve barely started The Shepherd’s Crown. I’m afraid I’ll cry. I hate that we lost Terry Pratchett.

If someone has a wedding at an aquarium, do the penguins serve as the catering staff for the reception?

Pumpkin donuts have returned. This bodes poorly for my fat ass.

Bananas are not nature’s boomerang. I know this from experience.

Why won’t birds do my bidding? I figured at least ducks would have my back about now.

I have a hard time keeping in touch with people. I try, but I get wrapped up in dumb stuff. That doesn’t mean there aren’t people I miss.

Why are so many people worried about the zombie apocalypse but not the robot apocalypse?

I need to control at least one of the classic four elements. Someone make this so.

Can we all stop pretending that we’re smarter than we actually are? Can that just be a thing now?

Pudding makes lots of things better.

This is all I’ve got. I also need to try to get Zoe to take a nap. So I must re-engage daddy mode. Enjoy your day, world, and try not to trip.

Nightmares

Some people sleep  easily. I don’t. I’ve fought insomnia for years. In the last six, I learned that it’s likely connected to the depression. That actually helped me manage it a bit better, but a good, restful sleep is still a challenge. I have to take an over the counter sleep aid most nights, otherwise it takes me a few hours just to drift off.

I don’t usually remember dreams. I know they are pretty much my brain trying to work through stuff while I’m asleep. I’m just not one of those people who consistently remembers what they were dreaming. I do believe that whatever your mood is on any given day can connect to what you were dreaming the night before.

Today feels like it will suck. I spent most of last night having nightmares. My wife had to wake me up twice because I was yelling out in my sleep. I know in at least one of them, something terrible happened to my kids. I remember that they disappeared. I think something inhuman took them. There was nothing I could do. I can’t recall anymore than that. So I’m very tired. I’m irritable. I’m worried what triggered those dreams is something I saw and my brain is trying to warn me about.

Why don’t I remember good dreams? The closest I get is the random really weird dream. The ones I can never forget. I had a dream in high school where I was toasting bagels at Burger King for the Red Hot Chili Peppers, which they kept ordering with no stop in sight. Years later, I dreamed that I had been cast in a new musical and every other member of this cast was made of Play-doh. Again, weird stuff.

Otherwise, it’s nightmares that throw my whole day off. And why pick on my kids, brain? It was bad enough when you gave me that dream where our cat was stomped on and thrown in a trash can, sadly mewing the whole time. Then I had the one where my wife sent ghosts after me. So now we’re picking on the girls? Seriously? Is it because I’m not giving you as much sugar as I used to?

Today is definitely going to be a long day. That’s not even counting the large amount of pooping I’ve already had to do.

Before the coffee kicks in—the iced coffee edition

I have one child down for a nap. I have the other one playing with toys and enjoying some Nick Jr. And, importantly, I have a glass of iced coffee. We keep a pitcher of coffee in the fridge for this purpose, and we enter the time of year when my consumption of the stuff increases. Now I will let the cold caffeine molecules slither about my brain and work their magic. Meanwhile, my figures will type out the mental speed bumps they hit.

The cat is staring at me. I just cleaned her litter box. She’s probably wondering what I do with all the poop I take out.

Medical bills suck.

Phoebe had her first dance recital. It was one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.

Zoe has tried peanut butter and jelly. She seems more interested in the jelly.

Have you ever pooped so much your tail bone is sore?

I realized I now have favorite Disney princesses. When the hell did that happen?

I will never feel guilty about buying books.

My wife is very smart. In most ways, smarter than I am. But sometimes she forgets words exist and doesn’t complete a sentence. Sometimes I have to guess what comes next. I often guess it involves monkeys. I’m often wrong.

It’s probably better for the world that I can never do in real life what my D&D characters can do in a game.

Can the cat see ghosts? I’m pretty sure she can see the spectre of Death. I bet they make fun of me.

Choosing the right flavor of ice cream is important and should be taken seriously.

Two of the kid shows the girls really like are math-based shows. I can only hope this keeps them from inheriting my numerical ineptitude.

At least once a day, I want to punch myself in the face. I never do it, but it’s there.

I very much like animals and think we should be good to them. But I’ll probably never be a vegan and I’ve killed as many bugs as the average person. Not sure what that makes me other than just another human.

Never underestimate the power of guacamole.

My iced coffee has been consumed. I have nothing else to mutter about. Hope everyone has a nice day. Maybe get yourself a cookie. Or whatever your preferred treat might be. Don’t let me force a snack choice upon you.

We are grown ups

My wife Lisa and I are both in our thirties. We have our hobbit-sized home that we pay the bills for and try to keep somewhat clean. We have our two children and one weird cat that we feed, love, and do our best to keep alive. We both have jobs that pay us in legal currency.

So I guess we are grown ups? Is that how it works?

We have more meals that include some form of leftover than ones that don’t. My wife has, in the past, thrown her back out and will get heartburn. I have joints that ache. I’m sure, like many people, I am carrying around more weight than I really should. Yet on nights off from work, I will still shove ice cream into my stupid face.

We are grown ups.

My kids are growing up faster than I want them to, but I can’t wait to see the kind of people they become. Unless they are jerks. Honestly, the idea that my kids will turn into some of the assholes that I encounter on a daily basis terrifies me. Lisa and I are doing the best we can to make sure they are functional human beings. I really want them to be good people. Yet I will lay down at night and think of the things I probably fucked up on that particular day. I do this kind of worrying almost every night.

We are grown ups.

There are days that I don’t shower or put on real pants. My wife still laughs whenever one of the girls farts. I will walk around the house singing about what I happen to be doing at the moment. Or singing about the cat. Or the kids. There are lots of stupid songs that happen in my house.

We are grown ups?

My wife and I stress each other out. We could probably be the basis of a crappy sitcom or reality show. We will always say we love one another, then in the same day say something stupid we can’t take back. We have gotten in some of the dumbest arguments that any couple could possibly have. Then we apologize and try to move on. We both love our family and work hard at it. We are a team. We are friends.

We are grown ups.