The Pinnacle of Being an At Home Dad.

This is it, I have reached the pinnacle of being an at home dad.  Nine years, nine long years and today is the day that I can truly say that it's all coming together.

March Madness starts today and there is absolutely no one home.  All day.  A full day with no one at the house.  At all.  Let me bask in this for a few minutes.

Look at those chips in the kitchen over there.  See those?  Those are MY chips.  There will be no grimy hands covered in boogers and snot grabbing into that bag.  The only hands taking those sweet fried potatoes out will be shaking from the excitement from the knowledge that there will be no sharing.  I'm going to eat the whole bag in under 2 hours which would be a personal best.

The beer is right next to the chips and I want to again remind everyone that those are MY chips.  That is also My beer.  I will not be sharing these either.  My daughter can be a mean drunk.  (Don't call CPS, it's only a joke, she is a very nice drunk).  While I drink this beer, with MY chips, there will be no questions.  "Why do you drink Daddy?" or "What is passed out?  Daddy?  Daddy?"

Now that the beer and chips are taken care of, let's move onto what else is mine that I will not be sharing.  I will sit alone, in MY chair, by myself.  I may allow the dog to lay at my feet and soak up some of this awesomeness.  He gets no beer or chips, though.  Those are still mine.  There will be no kids jumping to my crotch like a rocket fired from the launchpad that is our couch.  There will also be no getting up for a good 3 hours to check on what that huge crashing sound was.  Because there will also be no huge crashing sound unless its the sound of my over indulgent sighs as I fit one more chip in my chiphole.

For lunch, I've got something special planned.  MY brats will go nicely with MY beer and MY chips.  I'll eat them in peace and not once wish they were hotdogs, why can't we have hotdogs, I want a hotdog, I no longer want this hotdog.  Let me make this clear at the start of this day.  There will be no hotdogs.

I'm going to do all this from the comfort of MY living room while I watch MY TV at a reasonable volume.  I will be able to hear the program I am watching and I will not have to wonder why the volume only goes up to 99.  I will watch it at volume 20 like civilized people do while they eat brats, beer and chips.  When there is a good play I may actually rewind the play and watch it many times.

Then I'm going to cuss about the play.   I'm going to say "fuck" and not "fork".  I'm gong to say "Shitnizzle" and not "Shuxalive."  I'm going to scream "Goddamnit you bastard loving cunt sore."  Well, hold on.  I'm not going to say "Goddamnit you bastard loving cunt sore."  Even for me, that is pretty extreme.  Let's not get carried away here.  So instead I will say "Goddamnit, stupid millennials costing me my bracket.  Twats."  Yes, that's better.  I will say that.

Everyone is now expecting a twist now, aren't they?  Everyone is expecting me to come to the great realization that my life is infinitely better and sweeter when my kids are around.  That I will have an internal dialog about the guilt I feel about all 3 of my demons being in school.  That maybe I will eagerly run to preschool, grab my youngest and then hop over and take the other two out of school as well so we can experience this together.  That is where this story goes, right?

Fuck no.

Nine years, nine years I've been doing this.  Read the first sentence again, there will be no going to get the kids and having a special moment.  I'm going to have plenty of special moments over the course of this day.

And I'm going to have those special moments while sitting in MY underwear, which will be on MY butt.  MY underwear will not be on some four-year old's head, it will not be pulled down at the waist by tiny hands and no one will ask me why there are pirates on MY underwear.  Pirates are cool, that's why they are on my underwear, to protect my booty.  Dear god, even the jokes are getting better now.