Tag Archives: coffee

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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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.

 

 

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.

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.

Before the coffee kicks in—the afternoon edition

I feel like I just woke up, even though I have been going since about 7 am this morning. My children are, momentarily, contained in the playroom. The cat, once again making me question how smart she actually is, has buried herself under the covers of our bed and shows no sign of leaving. I am ready to flop down on the floor, but instead I pour myself more coffee in hopes it will revive me. So I will again take this moment to share my brain bugs, only I no longer have the excuse of having just rolled out of bed.

I sometimes wonder if a lack of opposable thumbs is the only things stopping pets from revolting.

We are using ice cream as a potty training reward. Will my daughter forever connect ice cream with poop?

I need to stop making inappropriate versions of the songs on kid’s shows.

I want the power to teleport like Nightcrawler, complete with the “BAMF” and brimstone.

Can a person actually feel themselves getting old or is that just gas?

Ben Franklin and Chris Hardwick are right. Our national bird should have been the turkey.

I can’t change how my brain works. I can just learn how to deal with it better.

Expiration dates have wiggle room, but not in years.

No one tells you that being married gives you someone who thinks it’s funny to fart on you.

The above also applies to children.

This is as far as I can go. I’m starting to over think this too much and my girls are demanding “Yo Gabba Gabba” for the second time. Also, all this coffee is making me have to pee.

No place to hide

Let me make something clear, in case there is any doubt. I absolutely love my kids. To paraphrase Christopher Moore, I love them more than pie. They are my babies and I will do everything in my power to make sure they are happy, healthy, and good people.

I sometimes wish they would leave me the fuck alone.

That’s terrible, right? But I swear there are times when I think my head is going to blow up into tiny pieces because I can’t get away from all the noise. Or the being used as a jungle gym. Or the constant need to search me out if I go into another room for just a few minutes. I think I may have mentioned it before, but I can’t even poop in peace!

I know my wife has the same feelings, but she at least has the option of free time after the girls go to bed. I work second shift so when I get home, it is bed time for me. Then they are usually up with the sun and we’re up with them. Sometimes, I get a little cranky after all of this and I start wishing for a break that I know just won’t come.

The real kicker is that I know, one day, I’m probably going to miss this. The day is going to come when my girls just really aren’t going to want daddy around that much. I will have lots of time for quiet and I will spend it thinking of the days when Phoebe and Zoe were small enough to want to use me as a couch. So I try to look for a balance. I want to be there for my girls as much as they need me to be. I also need to be true to my own personality. I am very much an introvert and need to recharge my “interaction program” now and then. I’m no good to them or anyone else if I’m they human equivalent of an alligator snapping turtle. I just have to know that I need to be patient because that time is hard to get right now.

I will drink an extra cup of coffee. I will go to therapy. I will apologize if I lose my mind and start wishing for an invisibility cloak. And I will do my best. I will never be perfect but I will be the best I can for my family.

Still, that invisibility cloak would be pretty awesome.

Before the coffee kicks in – Round 3

Some mornings involve lots of fussing. Phoebe is a force of nature and as sweet as Zoe is, sometimes she is a little howler monkey. They have broken my brain and the caffeine isn’t helping yet. So here are some of the marbles rolling around in my skull.

Am I disgruntled or only mildly gruntled?

I should hurl jars of bees at those who displease me.

Why does the cat hang out in the tub?

I like peanut butter on English muffins.

I should never have real power. It would be like giving me the One Ring.

My days of pooping in peace appear to be over.

Am I a good husband?

Will my kids stop loving me one day?

I want a talking animal sidekick.

Will Hagen-Daaz ever make their eggnog ice cream again?

That appears to be all I have. I wish I could go back to bed, but it seems I need to remove a stinky diaper. To battle!

The quest for cool

I am a few months shy of my 36th birthday. For better or for worse, I am considered an adult. A grown up. A somewhat productive member of society. I like to think that I’ve had some success in my life to go along with some of the failure. For instance, I have never left the house without remembering to put on pants. Hey, I didn’t say I always set the bar high! You try walking around town with no pants and see how far you get. I dare you.

Anyway, one thing I don’t think I ever quite reached was that point where a person becomes cool. That’s right. One of the holy artifacts of high school. The mantle of cool. That point when you look in the mirror and not only think it yourself, but you KNOW that everyone else thinks the same thing. You are deemed to be cool. It’s a quest everyone starts in their youth, whether we realize it or not, and it never seems to go away.

So why am I not cool? For starters, this is not a word I’ve heard others use to describe me. That’s not to say I don’t ever get compliments, all of which I appreciate. Of course I’ve heard some less flattering things. Self-described beta male, remember? We kind of invite a certain level of mockery. But even that isn’t necessarily bad. Sometimes just teasing from friends (or a loving yet snarky wife) that is meant in fun. But the point is, I can’t say I get told that I am cool.

I’m pretty sure I don’t dress cool. When I’m not dressed for work, I wear jeans and a T-shirt I likely purchased from ThinkGeek . Maybe a flannel shirt or sweatshirt over that. My style hasn’t changed much since the 90’s. I just like to be comfortable.

The things I like tend to lean towards nerdy. I enjoy fantasy novels and I play Dungeons and Dragons. If you haven’t yet read it, my last post was dedicated to superheroes. I have an undying love of all things Muppet. Seriously, you don’t know how excited I am that I get to watch Sesame Street with my kids. I own an R2-D2 bottle opener. I make up songs about our cat. Now, I realize some of these things are more acceptable to love now than they once were. Saying you like comics or the Lord of the Rings won’t make you quite the bully target that they used to. Neither will playing board games. But are they considered cool. I doubt it. I’m pretty sure making up a song about the cat to the tune of Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man” will always be very far from cool.

The funny thing is, I’m not quite sure what would make me cool. What is the current standard? I’m pretty sure that by the time I caught up to it, the definition will have changed again. Is it about confidence? If that’s the case, I think there are fewer cool people in the world than we realize. I don’t know many people who are void of insecurities. The ones who are may very well think they are cool. Those few people also happen to be totally oblivious to their flaws or the consequences of their actions. If that is what it takes to be cool, I don’t know that it’s worth the trade. I like that I am capable of introspection. Sure, I sometimes do this to a fault, but I think it proves that I’m still able to learn.

One last thing. I am the father of two little girls. One day, they will be two teenage girls. There is no way in Hell that they will think I am cool. What teenager really thinks that their parents are cool? So I like to think that I have one up on any parents who, unlike myself, are of the opinion that they are cool. I have the benefit of saying to my kids, “You don’t think I’m cool? That’s fine. I’m used to it. Now help Daddy find his dragon coffee mug.”