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!
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.
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.
My youngest daughter, Zoe, is just over a year old. She basically has two settings. The first is a sweet little thing who wants to get into increasingly more mischief. I think it just comes with the crawling and trying to walk. The second is this a very upset little doodle monster, inconsolable and acting as if the world is ganging up to torture her. I think they mentioned something like this in Revelations.
The other day she was having dinner and suddenly slipped into mode two. There was no apparent reason for this. My guess is that her mouth was hurting since more teeth are coming in. While this is happening, her sister Phoebe is at the other end of the table with her fingers in her ears. She hates it when Zoe starts fussing.
I pick Zoe up from her little seat and try rocking her. That doesn’t help, so I start to sing. I like to sing and most of the singing I do these days is in one of two scenarios: either in my car or to my daughters. I have been told I have a good voice. In my opinion, it’s not anything spectacular but I more than hold my own. No one will ever mistake me for an opera singer, but if I can do the musical theatre thing and I’m pretty comfortable with rock songs. So what do I sing to my daughter? While I can do a solid version of some Alice in Chains and some Warren Zevon, they usually aren’t my go-to with the kids.
That tends to be Muppets. More often than not, it’s Sesame Street. The one that I do the most is the Ernie classic, “I Don’t Want to Live on the Moon.”
So I sing to Zoe. She starts to quiet down and stares at me as I sing. I look up and because Phoebe has left the table and followed us into the other room. Now I am trying to sing to Zoe while not laughing because of my older daughter. Phoebe has now begun to enjoy my singing by doing her own interpretive dance routine.
I want to crack up. I keep singing instead. Not only because Zoe is calm but because Phoebe is just having way too much fun. I finish singing and get applause from the baby and a “Nice singing, Daddy” from Phoebe.
I really hope one or both of my girls sings when they get older. Mostly because I want to be able to perform my own interpretive dance.