Tag Archives: poop

2017: So that happened

I’m going to keep this as short and to the point as I can. On the whole, this last year has been a field of werewolf poops broken up by a few patches of flowers. I look at where things are around me and my brain does explodey things.

Professionally, 2017 was one of the worst years of my life. Personally, it fluctuated between pretty good and completely heartbreaking. There were some pretty big family hurdles. The kids, my wife, and myself are doing our best to climb them. My physical and mental health took some hits but I have been taking steps to make improvements. My current job has gotten me on my feet more. I’ve started cutting back on my social media activity. Things like that.

This month I also turned 39, so the end of 2017 officially marks my road to 40. Not a big deal but I’m still trying to wrap my brain around it. I find that repeatedly singing “The Final Countdown” in my head helps quite a bit.

I don’t really do New Year’s resolutions. I just kind of have things I hope happen and try to make it so. Small goals. I want things to get a little better for my family this year, so I’m working on that. I want to explore more creative outlets. I want to do a better job of not stressing about the things I have zero control over. Will this be easy? I’m a worrier by nature so probably not. But I think if I focus that worry on important things (my wife, kids, ice cream flavors) then it will be an improvement.

If this past year has been awesome for you, I congratulate you for being in what seems to be a minority. Because based on those I’ve spoken with and personal experience, I only have one more thing to say.

Fuck 2017. Fuck it with a cactus covered in fire ants. I’m done with it as a thing.

2018. I’m watching you…



Dad Haikus


I have heard the call.

The demands will soon begin.

Crap. The kids are up.



I detect a smell.

The power is beyond me.

Someone has poopies.



A storm has fallen.

Her rage is great and brutal.

We’re out of yogurt.



You are my sweet child.

I love to make your smile grow.

Sure. I’ll sniff your feet.


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!

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 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.

The Zoo

We have a little additional room to our home that, I believe, the original owner used as a sewing room. It’s connected to our kitchen and drops down a few steps lower. We knew instantly that we’d use this as a playroom for the girls. This has proven to be a good decision. Small children are not easy to contain for a long period and having a centralized location for the chaos helps. However, the space ends up having a life all its own. I have come to think of this room as the Zoo. Let me explain the source of the name.

1) The view from the outside

There is a small railing along the lip of the room and the small stairs. We also installed a baby gate, primarily for Zoe containment since Phoebe is able open the door. So when I am sitting at the kitchen table looking in on them, it kind of seems like bars are holding them in. A giant baby cage, if you will.

2) Crazy monkeys 

Small children have many things in common with monkeys that got into the jar of sugar someone inexplicably left alone. They all make a lot of noise. They are constantly demanding food. Objects will often get thrown about. Anything that can end up in their mouths, WILL end up in their mouths. There is occasionally poop. To give my children credit, I am pretty sure they smell better (usually) and are easier to ultimately calm down than the monkeys would be. This is an assumption. I don’t hang out with many monkeys in my day-to-day, so I can’t test the hypothesis.

3) Visiting the exhibit

My girls are quite fortunate to have a few people, particularly grandparents, who really love them. We also have some friends who pop in for the occasional visit. When these various people come by, it really does feel a bit like a few tourists came in to the zoo. Specifically, it becomes a kind of petting zoo. People will go in the playroom to hang out with the girls. They will play with Phoebe and Zoe. Sometimes it is at their own risk. My kids may have been eating something sticky. You also have to be mindful of the aforementioned baby gate, lest Zoe run off and try to drop things in the toilet. We have one friend, whom I absolutely adore, that consistently struggles with anything child-proof despite the fact that she’s one of the smartest people I know. So the baby gate can trip up even the most intrepid house guest/tourist.

4) David Attenborough

This doesn’t quite fit the whole “playroom as a zoo” thing I’ve got going. However, I’d be lying if I said watching my kids just interact with their environment didn’t make me feel like David Attenborough narrating The Life of Mammals. Even though I’m not British.

So the children spend a good part of their day in the Zoo. And so does daddy. I guess at the end of the day, that makes me less of a zookeeper and more part their society. Or maybe part of the habitat. Usually the climbing portion. I can live with that.

Pick off the sick ones

This last week was not the best when it comes to health. My wife and I were both knocked out by what appeared to be a 24 hour bug. Then after a day and a half of being somewhat better, I was again laid low. Against my wishes, various grossness began shooting out opposite ends. Winter stomach flu. It plain sucked. I vote strongly against it.

My children used this week to prove they can be unfeeling goblins who will tear us apart if it pleases them.

The day both Lisa and I were down was the worst. Basically, we had to take turns trying to rest while the other took a feeble stand against Phoebe and Zoe. I will tell you that changing diapers becomes more unpleasant when you are on the verge of barfing. And that’s not even one of the verbal demands. Food still gets demanded. They continue to fuss when they aren’t getting their way. You still need to keep them occupied. They still want to put stickers on your head. All this must happen while you are wishing you could dig a little burrow in the ground and hide in it. But we love them and no one is going to do these jobs for us. So you plaster on a smile and do your best between frantic runs to the bathroom. The whole time you are also praying to any god who will listen that this plague does not get passed on to the kids.

When Lisa was better and I was still sick, I then had to contend with the solo child herding when mommy had work. Now, one of my daddy functions tends to be as a couch/jungle gym. This is another task that is preferable when you are not a barf machine. Guess who doesn’t give a shit? That’s right, the small children! So the queasy stomach gets stepped on and the glasses get poked at. Sometimes you even take an accidental knee to the groin (which REALLY doesn’t help you feel better) while you are being told to laugh like Bert and Ernie.

It probably goes without saying, but I will anyone. During all this, the cat was no help. Jerk.

So at this point, it seems that recovery is mostly complete. No more barfs or horrid poops. No one is running a temperature. I’m still feeling a little run down, but that just come with the territory. And thankfully neither of the girls seem to have caught anything. But now, I think my wife and I need to come up with a contingency plan. I can’t shake this feeling that Phoebe and Zoe were being merciful. The next time we become this ill could spell our doom if not prepared. So we must prepare to fight off not only the sickness, but also the hyenas.