Tag Archives: daddy

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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More years to come

My eldest daughter, Phoebe, will turn 5 in less than a week. In July, her sister Zoe will turn 3. I’m of mixed feelings about this whole growing up thing my kids are doing. It’s also really weird to think that it has been about 5 years since I’ve become someone’s parent.

How did that happen? Well, of course I know how it happened. I was there. Also, I’ve been to the zoo.

It’s just bizarre to me. I have these two little girls that call me “daddy” who I love more than I thought possible. There are also days they make me want to dig a hole in the yard and hide for the rest of my life. My wife and I constantly talk about which one is going to give us more trouble in the years ahead. They are both so different, yet both so stubborn! And they are both so cute and they make me laugh and smile. I look at them and get so scared thinking about the horrible shit they may go through. I constantly worry about how the world will treat them because they are girls, and how they will treat them when they are women. When it comes to them, I question almost everything I do for fear that I will screw them up. That being said, I think all parents screw up at some point. So chances are I probably have and will do so again, no matter how hard I try.

Phoebe is a talker and silly. She wants to say hello to everyone and is easily distracted. Zoe is sweet and sensitive. She gets so excited by animals and has a little temper.

My kids are getting older. I am getting older. Nothing is going to stop this and, unless something horrible occurs, I am in for many more years of this stuff. I will be tired and grumpy. I will be heartbroken. I will be proud and amused and terrified. And in the future, I will almost certainly embarrass some teenagers.

Cool.

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.

 

 

And on to another year

Here we are, members of the multiverse. 2015 is gone and 2016 has arrived. Yippee. Yay. Hooray. Huzzah. Poop. I guess that last one isn’t much of an exclamation of joy for most, but I figured everyone has there own thing. Just trying to make sure people feel included.

So what was this past year for me? Some positive moments to be sure. Some enormous piles of brachiosaurus dung as well, and those of us who have seen “Dinosaur Train” know just how enormous that is. We’re talking house-sized droppings, folks. I guess what I’m trying to get at is like many of us, I sometimes find it hard to focus on the good stuff that happened when it is so easy to only pay attention to the crap.

Last year around this time, I kind of pointed out that I don’t really do New Year’s Resolutions. My view is that they are simply a way we set ourselves up for disappointment with a showy gesture. It makes no sense. You’d think we were trying to have sex with the New Year.We have no idea where it’s been. So what I will again try to do is give myself a few “Think I Cans” for 2016. Really some of these are continuations of stuff I tried to do in the previous year which need further progress. Some of it is new, though, so we’ll see where things go.

1) Try to be a better daddy. This doesn’t mean I think I’m bad at it. By nature I am a bit of a worrier, however, so I always want to do better where the girls are concerned.

2) Read more. I already read a lot but I think I can do even better.

3) Try to reconnect with people, even if it’s just to say hello. I struggle at keeping in touch so this will be a hard one for me.

4) In relation to the last one, don’t beat myself up if people don’t respond. If I can make an effort, so can everyone else. But everyone has their priorities and you can force anybody to make you one.

5) Never forget that my wife and I are a team. Maybe we can be called the Mighty Monotremes. Perhaps the Fighting Ground Sloths.

6) Allow myself a break now and then. It’s important for my physical and mental health. If anyone has an issue with that, they can shove a pineapple in their favorite orifice.

7) Try to stay informed while filtering out the stuff that messes with my head too much. This will likely mean taking social media in stride, and likely using the “unfollow” button a bit on Facebook.

8) Don’t let the bad stuff take me out. If I’ve learned anything in therapy it is that I’m a fairly tenacious person. That’s not going to change.

9) Remember that this is a crazy, random world and we are all screwy primates trying to get by. Many of us forget this. I can’t let myself be one of those people.

I think that’s enough to get me through the next round of existence. Happy 2016 everyone. Off we go.

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.

The Negotiator and the Manipulator

Let me be honest. I love my daughters more than I can ever fully express. However, I fear we are raising a team of diabolical master planners. Beware world, lest you fall to the powers of Phoebe and Zoe.

For the prophets said, unto you shall come a tenacious negotiator and a mighty manipulator. They will appear cute, yet will unleash an age of parental oppression.

THE NEGOTIATOR: Phoebe loves to haggle. She’s four and, I repeat, she loves to haggle. I pity the poor future salesperson who will deal with her. If my mother-in-law offers her some pieces of chocolate (let’s say two pieces), Phoebe will ask for ten.

P-“How bout ten, Nonni?”

N-“How about two?”

P-“How bout eight?”

N-“How about four, Phoebe?”

P-“Okay, Nonni.”

Granted, I am of the opinion that if a grandparent wants to spoil their grandchild, they’re allowed. But Phoebe will try this with everyone on just about everything. Maybe she can watch “Sofia the First” AND have a story? Can she take a toy in the tub with her? How about TWO toys? And in the case of her parents, if it doesn’t work with one she will try the other.

“Mommy, can we go to the cat food store? Maybe Daddy can take me.”

“Daddy, can we have a┬átreat? Maybe Mommy can get me a treat.”

She’s determined, I’ll give her that. And she knows how to be cute about it.

THE MANIPULATOR: Sweet little Zoe. Full of great big feelings and perfectly content to play with your emotions to get her way. She just turned two last month and she is becoming more and more of a troublemaker. And she is queen of the big “boo boo” face. Did you just do something she doesn’t like? Here comes the little pout and the teary eyes.

“Poor little Zozo. Here we’ll give you snuggles.”

Just like that, myself, her mom, or a grandparent scoops her up for a snug. She has poked at our squishy spots and struck gold. Oh, and forget about it if her sister gets a treat a Zoe doesn’t. Here come the big feelings! Quick, someone fetch blueberries or some crackers!

Now,Lisa and I genuinely love that Zoe is a sensitive little thing. But I’ll be damned if she doesn’t now how cute we think she is. As much as we may not want to admit it, she can play both of us just as well as her sister. Diabolical, I tell you.

Do I really think this is all that different from what other parents deal with? Not really. Do they always get their way? Definitely not. Which then leads to little meltdowns, time outs, taking toys away, and an early bedtime. It’s a pre-schooler and a toddler. This is all to be expected. And at the end of the day, these girls have their good days and bad days like anyone else. And there will be more as they continue to grow.

I realize I have a bias as a parent, but I think that Phoebe and Zoe are both pretty good girls. And I will do my best to make sure they grow into good people and amazing women. Hopefully, they won’t drive me totally nuts in the process.

Weird trees and their apples

My wife and I are two people who have been called weird at different points in our life. In fact, we have called each other weird. This is one of those words, along with geek and nerd, that has taken on different meanings. I tend to think of it as a good thing, but I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t caused a struggle or two.

My kids are weird. I say this with every ounce of love I have for them. Holy crap, are Phoebe and Zoe two weird little girls.

Phoebe has barely reached the levels of weirdness I know she’s capable of evolving. She has Disney princess dolls who spend most of their time naked, because it’s apparently summer and that’s what you do. She has dipped a toy or two into applesauce to use like a spoon, leaving a perfectly functional spoon untouched next to her. The other day, Phoebe walked across the house with a pile of socks on her head so she could see what it looked like in the mirror. She likes to point out the cat’s snowflake bum, which she has for poopoos. Phoebe has also been know to pretend she’s a pirate while using the potty.

Zoe isn’t even two yet, but we are starting to scratch the surface with her. She will throw Cheerios on the floor like she doesn’t want them, but as soon as she is out of her chair she begins to forage for what is now known as “Floorios” in our house. She loves to grab anything she can get her hands on, then run off giggling like she has committed the crime of the century and she must flee Batman. She likes to put the dress-up crowns they have on her head backwards. Who knows what she’ll be doing by the time she’s her sister’s age?

Now of course, I say all these things about my girls being weird with full certainty that the term “normal” is pretty loose and subjective. The weirdness is also very entertaining. Phoebe is a lot of fun and Zoe is just a pile of cuteness and sweetness. I think they are wonderful, even if they are occasionally buttheads. I’m very happy to be their daddy. And it’s not like the weirdness came out of nowhere. This is a guy who starts singing whatever pops into his head when he’s bored. My wife once took the dress off a stuffed animal and had a fashion show with the cat.

Genetics. It’s not just eye color anymore.

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.

I, Daddy

I am approaching 36 years on this planet. I’ve talked about wearing many hats before, depending on where I am and who I’m with. Lately, it seems that my existence, my very being, can be summed up in a single word.

Daddy. I am daddy. According to my wife, this is something I always am no matter the situation. At home with the girls? Obviously daddy. Scooping the cat’s litter box? Still daddy. Spending time with our friends? Apparently, still daddy. Sleeping on the couch? Definitely daddy.

I never thought I could simplify myself that easily. Sure, I can add words to it. Nerdy daddy, silly daddy, grumpy daddy, sleepy daddy, and basically anything that could also qualify me to hang out with Snow White.

The thing is, I’m kind of okay with it. I have tried to think of myself as something else but in my head I am daddy, non-stop. My wife teases me about it. I honestly wonder if I have just been daddy my whole life and actually having kids was a mere formality.

So what happens when my girls are all grown up? Do I just get advanced to grandpa? What if they don’t have kids? Am I destined to be an unneeded daddy to grown women who have their own lives to live?

I’ve talked to people and there seems to be no real answer. I like to take care of the people I love. My wife and two little girls are on the top of that list. So if that means I am daddy, than I shall be daddy with every fiber I am composed of. Onward to the bad puns!