Monday, August 31, 2009

The Worst Thing About Taking A Bath is the Water

As always - The Cast of Characters

Me (The Daddy)
The Bean: Age 7
The Butterfly: Age 5
The Darling Wife

In The Dark Knight, the Joker says "if you're good at something, never do it for free".  If you're bad at something, I say, best not to do it at all.

Let's face it - Dads hate bathing their children.

And let's face it, Mommies have noticed.

It's not like we Stay At Home Dads don't help out.  We perform all the household tasks traditionally associated with fatherhood - cooking, helping with homework, doing laundry and, on occasion, cleaning something up.

But baths.  Don't get me started.

OK, get me started.

I'll do virtually anything to avoid putting the girls in the bath.  This includes the occasional cleaning something up.

Ineptitude is the father's best friend.  Do something badly and it decreases your odds of ever having to do it again.

For one, I can't wash hair.  I can't seem to find the happy medium between no shampoo and the entire bottle.  And rinsing is no picnic either.  No more tears, my ___ (fill in the blank). 

And forget about drying and brushing hair.  Like many dads, it's been years since I've had enough hair of my own to brush, so I'm out of practice.  My girls look like ragamuffins when I get finished with them.

So generally, they will sit in the tub until the water is frigid and they turn blue.  Then I'll toss them towels and say dry yourselves off, which they do about as well as can be expected.

During a recent mini-melt, The Butterfly explained through a series of shouts that "The worst thing about the bath was the water". 

I could not agree more.

Thursday, August 27, 2009


As always - The Cast of Characters

Me (The Daddy)
The Bean: Age 7
The Butterfly: Age 5
The Darling Wife

I've been labeled.

The DW, in her infrequent spare time, likes to surf the parenting message boards for advice on how to handle The Bean and her princess attitude.  And strategies on to alleviate The Butterfly's frequent meltdowns.  Can't forget those.

Apparently, being a Dad who doesn't work, cooks for the DW and and children, and (very occasionally) cleans something up, has a name.

And that name isn't guy who writes blogs.

Nor is it guy who writes picture books for children and struggles with the duality of his nature while writing a vampire novel.

Nor is Guy Who Writes Blogs even an acronym.  GWWB.  See it doesn't work.  Spell check has just spazzed.

But apparently, Stay At Home Dad does have an acronym.

Apparently, it's SAHD.  I'm assuming it rhymes with bad, mad, and Vlad (notice how I tied the vampire thing back in.  We in writing circles called this literary device - tying the vampire thing back in).

SAHD is probably pronounced 'sad'.

And that's just sad.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Anyone for Tennis?

As always, the cast of characters -

Me (The Daddy)
The Bean: Age 7
The Butterfly: Age 5
The Darling Wife

Our girls love tennis.  And it's a good thing.

Tennis occurs around 4:00 on Friday afternoons.  The DW and I and all the neighbors sit in lawn chairs and watch the girls attempt (with little success) to hit gently tossed balls over the net.

But 4:00 on a Friday afternoon means something even more important to the parents.

Happy Hour.

We all bring coolers loaded with beer and vino and leave loaded with beer and vino.

It's a good thing they like tennis.  They'd have to play it anyway.

The Bean isn't especially good at tennis.  We think she likes wearing the cute pink outfits more than chasing the balls.

The Butterfly isn't particularly good either.  She struggles to make contact and when she does, she's lucky if it rolls all the way to the net.  This is odd because The Butterfly is as strong as Bam Bam Rubble.

I invite myself onto the court where Coach Debbie isn't visibly frustrated.  She tosses balls and the kids pick them up.  Not a bad deal considering.

I suggest that maybe The Butterfly might be left-handed and suggest that Coach Debbie toss the balls to her other side.


I rest my case.

Monday, August 17, 2009

Almost Famous

Our cast of characters:

Me (The Daddy)
The Bean: Age 7
The Butterfly: Age 5
The Darling Wife

Sunday was my birthday and The Darling Wife planned an outing for me to see the Gwinnett Braves - the AAA affiliate of the Atlanta Braves.

Needless to say, I was pretty psyched. I'm a huge baseball fan and what is the worst that could happen bringing two girls under 8 to a minor league baseball game?


Baseball is not necessarily something The Bean and The Butterfly are into. I think it ranks somewhere below eating vegetables.

However, a baseball stadium is a veritable cornucopia of junk food. A horn-o-plenty of stale popcorn. Handfuls of multicolored cotton candy. The obligatory ice cream sandwich. And some sort of sugar water.

Can you say sugar high? Followed by sugar crash?

Wisely, we stashed them in the row behind us, so they could annoy the elderly couple who still keeps score by hand.

Admittedly, sitting in the sun for 3 hours watching two minor league teams score a total of three runs on maybe 6 hits might be a bit mind numbing for even the most avid of fans.

The Bean and The Butterfly are not the most avid of fans.

"Are you having fun?" The Darling Wife asked The Bean.

"I'm bored," she said and put on pink Kate Hudson sunglasses. "I want to go to Taco Mac."

If she didn't already have my heart, she would have earned it then.

Friday, August 7, 2009

The Best Parents in the World

Our cast of characters:

Me (The Daddy)
The Bean: Age 7
The Butterfly: Age 5
The Darling Wife
Special Guest Star: Jacky the cat

The Darling Wife and I are the best parents in the world. This is the only reasonable explanation.

How else could we keep a one-year-old Bean happy? How else could we possibly keep her from constantly screaming at the top of her little lungs 24 hours a day, seven or more days a week?

So with a smug sense of satisfaction, the DW and I settle into the sofa to watch something inane.

And we can hear the TV! No crying; no bawling; no singing - nothing but silence.

Silence? Uh, oh.

We scramble through the house and at last find the Bean and her accomplice eating Butterscotch chips off the floor in front of the pantry.

How amazingly unsanitary.

Better take a picture first.