I am thankful for my wife and my children. I am thankful that they are all healthy and happy and think that I rock.
I am thankful that I have a roof over my head, good food on the table and a dog that sounds great barking but is actually a massive wuss.
I am thankful that Lindsey Lohan is doing playboy. I am thankful that alcohol exists and so do hot idiot celebrities.
I am thankful that my children no longer eat dog food.
I am thankful sports exist and that the NBA is on a lockout because I hate professional basketball.
I am thankful that some weird old guy showed up my house and asked if he could pick up all the black walnuts from my backyard. I am also thankful that he didn't ask me to join in any weirdo reindeer games that he would be playing with those walnuts. Naked.
I am thankful that winter is here and everyone's yard looks like shit now because it's all dead. I am thankful that I don't talk to my neighbors more because that may not turn out to well given the state of my yard the last couple of summers. Which reminds me to be thankful when cities give out water restrictions so no one can water their yards so now it looks like mine. I win.
I am thankful that Hossmom has a job she loves and gets to travel to cities that she finds interesting instead of other cities, like Cleveland.
I am thankful that Cheetos's come in handy little lunch sizes so that I can easily steal them from my daughter without them really noticing anything is gone.
I am thankful that my fat dog eats all the food that the kids drop from the table with the exception of broccoli which I can't really blame them for.
I am thankful that for Dear Abby because every time I read it I am assured that there are way more weirdo people out there that have way more weirdo problems than I do.
I am thankful of new tires because that it was all old men are thankful for because it shows that even though life has beaten us down, new tires are always cool.
I am thankful for leaked sex tapes and the ignorance and stupidity of the people that do them.
I am thankful for jilted ex boyfriends. No relation to the above mentioned thankful topic. Maybe a little.
I am thankful that there is such a thing as a DVR and that it records sporting events that can be watched after 10 pm.
I am thankful for juice because it's good.
I am thankful for cake because it's better than juice.
I am thankful that someone invented a catapult and we have taken such a destructive weapon of war to now make it throw watermelons.
I am thankful for potato guns to0 as one of the top most useless but awesome inventions.
I am thankful that my wife buys all my clothes for me and that one day my daughter will grow up and do the same thing.
I am thankful the dollar aisle at the store that sells plastic crap toys.
I am thankful for turkey and the sweet goodness that will soon be heaved upon my plate in a challenge to finish it all. I am thankful for gluttony.
I am thankful that I have finally started writing that book that I kept meaning to and I am thankful that the first chapter made my wife laugh.
I am thankful that Harry Potter exists even if it is only on paper.
But most of all, I am thankful that I have found someone who "gets me", who encourages me everyday and allows me to see her naked whenever I want.
It's that sweet awkward moment when your child barges in the bedroom door and catches you trying to mount your wife like the stallion that you are. Everyone freezes, no one moves. In that moment you are trying to decide how much of what your 5 year old daughter sees and how much she understands. In that moment you are trying to decide which course of action to take which can be very hard in this situation.
Love is a beautiful thing, a great thing. And the physical expression of that thing on a Saturday morning is even greater. So you don't want to permanently scar the child by screaming holy hell get the hell out why don't you knock for Christ's sake! You want her to one day embrace all that she is but that may be impossible after she catches her parents in the act. So in that awkward second, you have to make some decisions.
She has to get out of the room, that part is a given. If she stays, you aren't going to be able to finish what you need to finish, which is of course expressing your love in a physical way to your wife. And your wife loves it. Oh, she will say that she doesn't really care for a Saturday morning quickie but we all know that she is lying. I have children to prove it, one of which has just opened the door without knocking.
Your next thought is to chastise yourself for not locking the door. What kind of dumb ass rookie mistake is that? That's what a new parent does, not a 5 year vet like me. I can only blame my wife as she decided to have her clothes off around me. I cannot be held responsible for my actions when I have breasts at eye level.
The next thought you have in that awkward moment when your child catches you having sex is wondering if your wife will let you continue after you have rectified this slight transgression. Maybe, maybe not. Nothing is quite as good a mood killer than a 5 year old staring at you while eating a poptart.
You wonder what you daughter must be thinking. Does she realize that what she is seeing is most definitely not play wrestling? And if she does think it's play wrestling, does she realize that daddy is winning? Or is it dawning on her that Mom and Dad are "making babies" and is this going to be enough to send her into therapy next year and for the rest of her life? You don't want her to start asking difficult questions either, such why is mom reading a magazine while you are wrestling and what's up with Dad's junk? What happens if she yells for her little brother to come up here and check this out. This could get worse, I could ruin multiple lives all in the span of a second. It's doubtful that my wife will ever let me touch her again.
"I'm out of milk." my daughter tells us and then takes another bit of her poptart. That's what she came up with in that second of walking in the door and catching us doing what parents do. She then turns around and leaves as my wife and I scramble for the sheets.
On her way out the door, my daughter informs us that it is "stinky" in our room.
It used to be stinky a lot more often before I had children.
I have asked my family about what I should write about tonight. I thought maybe that I could get some ideas, maybe do a little brainstorming. I didn't have anything in particular in my head. Today was actually a good day in which no one got hurt, nothing was wrecked and I took a nap. I get my inspiration from my family but I am deciding that I am most inspired when I don't ask for their advice.
Little Hoss says that I should write about a sentence. I ask her why I should write about a sentence, what about that topic could I use to make it funny? Is there a particular angle I could take in writing about a sentence? Is there somehow a little sentence moral to be learned, a protagonist sentence that grows through out the plot? Is there a conclusion to the sentence or does it just run on forever like the movie Thor? Seriously, that movie sucked. I am very disappointed. She decided then that I shouldn't write about a sentence after all. She said that I should write about "Dada" and if I didn't write about that then I should write something "pissy" which brings up an interesting phrase that she heard me say to my wife. I believe that the exact phrase that I used, when talking to Hossmom this afternoon, was "Don't be pissy" and it appears that my daughter agrees with me.
I asked my son what I should write about. His response was to hit the wall with a sword. Then he looked at me and told me he hit the wall with the sword. Then he started to laugh because hitting walls with swords is funny, it's comedy gold, it Bob Hope Hilarious. I then got down on my knees and looked him in the eye as this is the only way that I can get the boy to really pay attention to me other than holding a pop tart in front of his face. When I was about to ask him again what I should write about, to ask him to inspire me, he just hit me over the head with his sword and said "bong". Then he ran away. I don't know if I can make that into a story, not unless he ran away to save some damsel in distress, say our cat for example, who has been tied up and left on railroad tracks by our villain, in this case played by our big gay dog. He's German so he always does the villain roles. But I don't know what happened to our hero because Hossmom then made me go outside and clean up dog poop.
She decided this should be a family activity which again shows my insanely practical wife not understanding what "family fun" is really about. Me: Plan a trip to Disney World. Her: organize the freezer according to color of frozen food. While we were outside she was none to happy with our overall effort as a family at cleaning up dog poop. In fact, she became a little "pissy" and I let her know it as I had just assumed that none of the children were actually paying attention to what I was saying. They usually don't which is why I have to dangle pop tarts in front of their faces.
I did ask my very practical wife what I should write about today. She suggested that I write about my underpants. She says that I should write about how I have pirate underpants and that they would go good with my son's sword. Perhaps I can play the villain this time with my pirate underwear. She also says that I have "party" underwear and some with strips on them as well. I don't really know what kind of underwear I have because my wife buys it for me. I haven't bought my own underwear in 15 years. Such an easy thing to compromise on. She likes me to wear funny underwear which I can only assume means that it takes the focus off my funny penis. This is how our marriage has stayed so fresh through the years.
This has been one of those weekends where things were smooth, fun for the most part and relaxing. I even got to watch some football and do a bit of uninterrupted writing, writing about nothing. I would continue but right now I've got to let the cat out of the closet, which my son informs me is his pirate dungeon and I should probably have a talk with my daughter that she shouldn't ever tell her teacher that she's being "pissy." For these tasks, only my spongebob underpants will do the job.
I'm debating if I'm going to stop him. I probably should but this falls into one of those "Fatherly moments". I cherish these because I get to be lazy while hiding behind a principle. I feel like a politician.
My boy is walking straight, kind of. It's more of a drunk walk really, the kind of walk you do when you come out of a bar at 4 in the morning and have convinced yourself that you are too drunk to drive. However, you are convinced that you can walk home the 10 miles no problem. All you have to do is go straight, or somewhat straight. Ah, college.
My boy is 4 yeas old now though and I'm pretty sure he hasn't been hitting the sauce so early in the morning unless the fruit juice has fermented, which is always a possibility. But while he is walking straight he is making a critical error in his technique. He is not looking straight. Currently he is distracted by the color of a bag of green beans in the freezer aisle. He does this often as the boy loves to get distracted. I fear what's going to happen when he goes to his first strip club.
These are the things that he has run into so far this morning at the grocery store: 1. A lady picking up grapes. 2. A guy wearing the same color of pants that I have on. 3. A wall. 4. Onions. 5. A bench. 6. My patience.
He fails to head the advice of all grandmothers everywhere. Look where you are going. He is also sitting to close to the TV and his palms will start getting hairy pretty soon. The boy likes to play with his junk. As his father, I really understand the TV and the junk thing. I like playing with my own, it's a life long thing. Grabbing your crotch for a guy gives a sense of security when times are tough. It's saying to yourself "My life has gone to shit but it's ok, my junk is still there." And he has to sit close to the TV because his sister gets kind of loud, all the time, even when she sleeps she wakes up and starts singing at the top of her lungs. I've seen it and considered an exorcism was in order until I realized that her mom does the exact same thing. One day they are go and bust into a harmony and I'm going to open a new club with my freak show of a family. The headliner will be the boy that walks into everything.
So I am faced with this dilemma, do I stop him and correct his path telling him for the 5 thousandth time today to watch where he is going or do I go with the father principal of letting him fail so that he learns his lesson?
It's a father dilemma that's been around forever. Let the boy take his licks and hopefully he'll learn something from it and actually watch where he is going. Or do I stop him and prevent a small injury to his face. Perhaps if I was a mom I could sympathize more with the small injury he's about to take. I would sing him songs while protecting him for the cruel world. But as Dad, I realize that the world is cruel and it's my job to teach him how to cope with that and sometimes that means letting him take one in the face. Plus, I'm getting pretty tired of telling him to watch where he is going. You don't even want to know what Halloween night was like. I do apologize to all my neighbors for all the smashed pumpkins. It was not a teenager prank, it was just my boy getting distracted by pretty things.
2 steps away a loud noise breaks his trance like stare at the green beans and he abruptly stops, moments away from taking it in the face. Another toddler has pulled some french fries out of the freezer and the mom is getting on him. My boy is saved and we continue on our way.
The mom is now is explaining to her son that we are not supposed to pull things out, which is probably how she got children in the first place. Her son isn't listening, welcome to my world, so she squats down to look at him in the eye. Nice move. What is even nicer is the little thong that pokes out the top of her very low cut pants. Very nice indeed. I don't question why people shop in such very low cut things at 9 am on a Tuesday, I'm just thankful for the opportunity to see it.
That's when I run into my son with the shopping basket, catching him right in the face. The kid goes down.