"Who (the FUCK) are YOU?"

I drop Jackson off at school every morning and pick him up every afternoon. It's weird for a stay-at-home Dad. When you are out and about, other moms look at you like, "Aww, he's a super hero Dad." When they see you drop off and pick up everyday, they look at you like, "Oh, I get it...he's unemployed."

The other day, I read about a Dad who asked another mother about a play date, and she reported him to the school for hitting on her.  This made me even more hyper aware of the creep aspects of being a misunderstood dad.  Not only to they think I'm a loser, but they think I'm a predator loser.

I'm probably reading too much into it, and the stories that we tell ourselves are always worse than reality.  BUT, nothing is more honest than the reaction of a child...

Jackson has a way of asking for things when he knows the likelihood of a denial is at a minimum.  When I picked him up from school the other day, we found ourselves walking next to another child and his mother.  Jackson asked, "Can we have a playmate?!?"  My usual response would have been, "Let's ask Mommy" followed by a toy or snack to serve as a distraction in the hopes that he would forget the question altogether.  But the other mommy answered immediately, "Sure!"  So, I told her that the next day I would bring in my info so we could make the arrangements.

The next time I saw the mom, I gave her an index card with my number, email, and Nicole's number also, in an attempt to reduce the "creep factor."  Without missing a beat, her son (not remembering me from the day before) says, "Who are you?"  Those were the words he used.  HOWEVER, his tonality and facial muscles were clearly communicating, "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO GIVE MY MOM YOUR INFO, YOU PREDATORY LOSER?!?"  

I have no doubt that this was brought up at their dinner table that night.  The little guy stood up for his mother's honor.  He made sure to take the alpha male role in dad's stead.  And at age 5, he clearly put me in my place.  "I'm Jackson's Dad."  He then said, "Oh, OK" ...but his untrusting face remained as though it was chiseled from stone.

Perspective...A post for me

It hasn’t rained since May (in San Diego) and my housing dilemma is working itself out.  We might be homeowners within a month!  Our student loans are completely paid off.  We bought a new car.  The dog’s vagina healed wonderfully…but she has a UTI again…within 3-months…and I’m feeling a little lost, unproductive…and downright useless.

Look, it can’t all be peaches and cream (mmmmmmm….creeeeam…*drool*).  Some things are great; extremely fantastic especially when compared to mothers and children gasping for air.  Some things suck.  The things that suck are mostly in my head, which means I need a) a lobotomy, b) a 24-hour marijuana vapor hook up, c) perspective.

The answer is clearly “C.” (with maybe just a little bit of “B”).  I want to perform more.  I want to write more.  I want to make some more money doing the things that I love and support Nicole to do the same.  All of this is within reach, and I just have to deal with the little hands and arms pulling on me as I   r e a c h…   But, again, those little arms are healthy and my house is filled with love, and the world if a fucking nightmare, so I have to realize that here in our little oasis in southern California, we are super lucky.

Interesting Week...

It's been an interesting week.  This happened....

I used to wonder how older men could go out of the house dress like this.  Really?!? Socks with Sandals!  But I get it now.  This is what happens when we finally give up.  I'm done attracting anything female into my tractor beam.  From this point on, clothing, both in and out of the house will be for utility purposes.  And long white tube socks keep baby hands from pulling out daddy leg hair.

This happened too...

Nicole gave birth to a 5 year old wearing tap shoes?  No.  We attended a dance recital where we knew absolutely nobody.  No doubt many of you assume Nicole dragged me to this to show me how cute little girls can be.  However, this was actually my doing.  While looking for space to teach improv in San Diego, I was introduced to this dance company and they are actually really really good.  We only stayed for the first half because my lovely and wonderful children reminded me why I don't want to raise any more lovely and wonderful children.

But let's not forget about this...

This is officially how I want to die if I get a choice in the matter.  Death by Bacon, and Chocolate, and Beer...all mixed together.  The San Diego County Fair is a fantastic place to laugh at the part of your brain that signals a full belly.  This was almost a week ago, and my sweat is still a little thicker than normal.

This happened at the fair as well...

The next time you find yourself chest strapped to a 10 month old in a baby bjorn at a fair that doesn't have rides for 10 month old babies, simply park yourself in front of the house of glass and mirrors and wait.  Within moments you will be gleefully entertained that the massive number of mindless children who smash their little faces into the walls of this gem...repeatedly.  You would think that they would learn, but most collied so hard on the first impact, it must damage the area of the brain responsible for sort term memory.

And Finally...This!

I don't know what else needs to be said.  My life just feels a little more complete.  Thank you Wild Ophelia!