A Teachable Moment by Taking One For The Team!

Have you ever thought to yourself, Why are men so stupid? I can't answer that for you, but I can sure show you how it happens.

Twas two and half weeks into the new school year. Homework was at a fevered pitch, things done before time, things done too late, and things not done at all. But it was Friday. A wonderful day by all account. On the last day of the week, the reins were always given some extra slack. A chocolate pudding was even put in their lunch box; something I never do. But being a parent is sometimes a contradiction in its own right. Girl-cub and boy-cub were done with their breakfast and trying to get dressed in their usual “I can't remember how to put clothes on” way. Papa-bear began to get snippy, then just plain started to bark out orders.

“Get your socks and shoes on, and let's GO!!!! And DON'T forget your backpacks!!!!!”

I went outside to start the car. As I walk back, girl-cub comes running out.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!!! Get Queenja! It's Friday!”

“Huh? Wha?”

“Show and Tell, Daddy!”

We walked back inside to find boy-cub. He was still sitting on the couch wondering if his socks were on the correct feet. I'm going to slap Grampa the next time I see him for telling my son that. That's just not right!

I continue talking to girl-cub, “Oh Honey... I'm sorry...but Queenja hasn't eaten for 13 days. I don't think it would be a good idea to.......”

Here's when the Earth parts, and molten lava spews from the soul of my daughter. She blows a gasket and starts heaving with tears about how I told her that some day I would bring in Queenja for show and tell. Tammy Faye move over! Girl-cub is a contender!!!

By this time, I am so pissed! My children are acting like they got abducted by aliens during the night and had their brains sucked out of their collective asses.

“Child! She's hungry. I don't think it would be a good...”

“BUT YOU SAID!!!!!”

At this point I had had enough. Parent-Daddy had left the building. Now I became Mr. ANGRY STUPID from the Land of DUMB-ASS!!

“Come with me! Now!!” I barked at girl-cub as I briskly walked toward Queenja's cage.

“What?”

As I stopped in front of the cage, “Over here, NOW!!”

I placed girl-cub next to the cage. “This is why you won't take Queenja to school with you for show and tell. This is why you don't take a hungry King snake anywhere.”

Mama-bear's gaze met mine. My eyes said, “This is gonna suck!” Her eyes said, “You're not REALLY going to stick your hand in there, are you!?”

With that, the lid came off. With that, Girl-cub watched intently. With that, two inches into the cage with my right hand, Queenja struck in a flash; BAM!! Queenja's jaw, wide open, sunk her teeth into my ring finger, creating two small holes in the upper, and a nice happy-face slice in the lower.

Girl-cub slammed herself backward into the bed. It was more of a frightened hop, though.

With that, Queenja retreated. With that, the lid was placed back on. With that, my bloodied finger was shown to girl-cub. “THIS is why you don't take a hungry animal anywhere.”

“Oh ... wow! Yea ... Ok! Can I bring the rattle of the snake you killed last month, then?”

My insides screamed, “I'm going to punt-kick your ass to the car, if you don't get there before me!”

My outsides said, “Yes, but if I get to the car before you, then the answer is No!”

Girl-cub moved to the car faster than a jackrabbit, and grabbed the rattle mid flight.

On the way out the door, I kissed Mama-bear good-day. My gaze met hers. My gaze said, “Love you!”

Her gaze said two things, “Are you Ok?” and “You're a freaking Idiot!”

Did girl-cub learn something this morning? Yes!

Are men stupid? Do you REALLY have to read this again?

A Horse Show? Are You Kidding!!??

If you didn't know, we've got the kids into horses.  At first, they learned Western riding, then went to English.  Boy-cub decided to stay Western, Girl-cub went English.  Last Sunday,(that's right! Only a WEEK ago!!) our trainer told us that they needed another rider for her July 26th show and fees for Girl-cub would be waived.  Girl-cub has been learning on a hot little Arabian named Alibi. (Just learning how to ride, NOT to show!)  Alibi is too young and our trainer didn't trust Alibi in a show just yet, so Shadow and Girl-cub were to train for only four days that week to get ready.  Oh Holy Shit!  You don't train for a Hobie Cat race, then have it changed at the last moment to an Schooner race, DO YOU!!??  Oh well.

"Hey Girl-cub! You into it!!??"  
please say no. please say no. please say no.

"Sure, Dad. Let's do this." 

"That's my Girl!!!!"  
damn it!!!

Shadow is an older show horse.  He knows what to do, but hasn't done it in a looong time. You have to "strong leg" this horse to make it move.  All week, Girl-cub kicked and learned to use a crop to whip Shadow into anything faster than a death march.  Girl-cub was dead tired every single day.

Mom and Dad were more nervous than she was though, and I mean nervous every day!, and even during the show, we (Mama-bear and I) had to split up so we wouldn't cause the other to explode into sweating-crying-imbeciles that would only end up having people say things like,....
"Oh, do you remember... "THOSE PARENTS?""

Anyway, back to Shadow, the dead-broke-bomb-proof horse, you need to whip to move past 1MPH.

Who would have thought that when an old slow-as-molasses show horse gets back into the show, they become silly?  I didn't... but anyhoo. : )

To those that don't know horse behavior: Horses swish their tails to get flies off of them.  They also flick their tail when they are about to do "something".  I saw the tail flick just before Girl-cub rounded the corner.  Then the front legs came up like a hop; another tell tale sign of "something".  Shadow then yanked his head forward and down, pulling Girl-cub along for the ride.  They both turned the corner and I was presented with two shiny metal horseshoes!  The damn horse was trying to buck her off!!!

"Oh God! Here we go!" I thought!  There was only one thing left!  All I was waiting for was the sight of Girl-cub's boot soles.  Was she going to go ALL ... THE .... WAY ... over the horse and stick a nice dirt landing????  Was she going to get kicked!!???  Stepped on!!???  Run over!!??  Landed on!!??  Ooooh, how a father's mind can race.

I silently screamed,  SHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiT!!!!!!



But amazingly, Girl-cub stuck to the saddle like glue!  Except now, she was inhaling mane after being slammed into the horses neck.  She recovered perfectly; just stunned from the faceplant.  Daddy, didn't recover perfectly though.  Not at all!  I started to walk back to the seats before thoughts of throwing-up became a reality.  Half way back to my seat, I hear, "Get her off that horse!  Water.  Get her some water!"  I about-faced and went directly to the scene.  The trainer saw my hackles up and my firm walk.  She waved me off with a look and hand gesture.  I trust and respect our trainer solidly, but I remember thinking, What the hell do you mean, let it be!?  Get the fuck out of my way, Lady!  But I kept it cool.  I DID understand her reasoning why.  And I complied.  But I still needed to get a visual of my daughter, damn it.  I got my visual.

There she was, in all her beauty, sitting down, covered in sweat, her face two-tone.  Big blotchy red hues intertwined with ghostly-pale-whiteness shown across her face. 

Oh God!  She's going to puke! Where's a bucket? And if she pukes, there is nothing on this earth that's going to stop me from puking as well!  Damn it!  Breath, dumb-ass!  Breath!! 

That statement by others just might turn into, "Oh, do you remember..."THAT FAMILY?""

Girl-cub was given a towel to wipe off the sweat and snot running down her face, and took many sips of water.  From the crowd behind us, came this dull murmur.  What the hell was going on?  Both Girl-cub and I looked to where the commotion was focused.  Another trainer had Shadow lunging around in circles.  This horse looked like a Lipizzaner horse.  Those horses that jump into the air and freakishly look like they might never come down, before bouncing around like a damn Jackrabbit.  Round and round it goes, this horse was FULL of shits and giggles.  And if, right then and there, I could have had it my way, that damn horse would have been made into glue.

When the dust began to settle, and Shadow was pulled back out, he was being led back up to where I was standing.  No way MY girl-cub is getting back on that hor.....  Right then, our trainer looks me dead in the eye and whispers, "She is fine.  Don't let her see your fear."  My mind went blank, before thinking, Well then!!  I'll just stand here and silently shit myself, Ok!!??  Then off I went searching for my chair again. 

She was right.  I was the one having issues.  Girl-cub would be fine. Shadow would NOW be fine.  It sure would have felt good to kick a barn cat across the paddock before sitting down though!! 

As I sat, I heard Girl-cub giggle. She WAS fine.  I, on the other hand, started to hiccup.

Girl-cub took four 5th places, and one 4th place.  Not too damn bad for her first horse show with only four days of training, even though it was like taking a knife to a gun fight. LOL   And she wants to do it all over again in September!!!!!!!


God help me!

When A Parent Goes Stoopid

Last week started off with my daughter puking all over her room. I don’t think I could have done better, even in my college days. She was out of school for the whole week. On Tuesday, I started getting sick myself. Great, just great. By Friday, we were all better, so I decide to go to the school and pick up the homework my daughter had missed. I’d called the teacher about our situation, so the plan was that I’d show up when school let out, and the teacher would bring the bag of things right to the car.

Being a little late, I had to sit behind two lines of three cars each. With both of my children in the back, drinking their Slimfasts, I had the music on and the back window open about an eighth of an inch. We sat waiting for the kids to get out and the line of cars to move forward, so I put the car in park and set the emergency brake. Then my daughter dropped her drink onto the floorboard. As I frantically strain myself back toward her, with foot hard on the brake to help me reach, I fumble around to find it.

As I did so, I heard someone revving their engine. I couldn’t be sure, though, because the music was on and the window was only slightly open. I located the drink, which luckily hadn’t spilled too much, and gave it back to her. I still heard an engine racing, only now it is much louder. I started looking around, trying to find the moron that would do such a thing at an elementary school at pick-up time.

Then I realize everyone was looking at me! See, we had to buy another car recently. Another Subaru. Both are white, same model, one year apart, but our newer one is an automatic. I thought I was driving the stick shift. I also thought I was pressing on the brake. But no! I had that thing pegged at more than 8,000 RPM’s! My foot came off the pedal like lightning, and my knee crashed into the steering wheel. I yelped in pain. Moms all around were looking at me like they’d just gotten word that my village wanted its idiot back. I couldn’t have been more embarrassed or dumbfounded at my own stupidity.

         As I tried to calm down, I eased the car forward. Some children were getting picked up now, and cars were moving forward. I got to the front of the line and shifted to park to await the bag of homework. The teacher opened the rear door and handed it to my daughter. She looked at me, raised a brow and asked, with a slight smile, “Everything Ok?”

“Oh yea, just being stupid.” I replied.

My children belted out, “Daddy, you don’t use the word stupid!”

“But kids, I’m calling myself stupid. Isn’t that Ok?”

My daughter looked to her teacher for an answer. The teacher said, “Yes, darling, it is Ok if he calls himself stupid.”

She shut the door and walked off laughing. I bowed my head low (my human equivalent of tucking my tail between my legs), kind of chuckled, released the parking brake, put the car in drive and gave it a little gas.

I went nowhere. I realized I wasn’t in drive, but in neutral. I slipped it into drive before the RPM’s lowered and jump/screeched the tires, my head slamming the back of the seat. Oh, dear God! I didn’t think it could get any worse! It was as if someone had torn out my spinal cord, decided that that wasn’t good enough, and began to beat me about the head with it. I just wanted this day to go away. My inner child was in the fetal position weeping.

         I drove home carefully. As I got to my driveway, I thought again about what I had just done, and shook my head in defeat. How could you be so stupid? Idiot!

I turned into the driveway and quickly engaged the clutch, slamming the kids into their seatbelts and burning a foot-long skid mark into the pavement. Once again: idiot! You’re in the automatic!

“What was that for, Daddy!?”, they both yelled. Before I could answer, I notice my neighbors looking strangely at me from their garden. My inner child was now going through a gang initiation. “A squirrel”, I said in my inner child’s voice.

Later that night, as my testosterone inched back up to normal levels and my spine found its way home, I told my wife about my day. As she rolled around on the floor crying and laughing, I thought to myself, being a stay-at-home dad doesn’t get better than this.

Angel Kisses

So, as a parent, we do wonderful things, and not so wonderful things. Sometimes, things come out of our mouths as gems that would seem like you were channeling the Dali Lama himself.

Girl-cub was about two years old. One night, she wandered into our room stating she was having trouble sleeping. I had just been looking out our master bedroom window, which overlooks the desert. There was a thunder storm that was sending huge billowing clouds up toward our mountain home. The sun had already set this evening, and the lightning was illuminating these towering white monsters. After she was asked if she felt sick and answered "no", my mind went quickly to the place every parent goes, “What is it that will calm the child?” Some prefer a lullaby, others a back scratch. Me, I'm more along the lines of mystery and make believe. So there I went, like a spinning top. I scooped her up, cradling her in my arms, and walked to the window. "Look, my little girl-cub," I said as we watched the clouds blink on and off, "The angels are here to kiss you goodnight. They want you to have good dreams and a wonderful nights sleep." Her amazement was bigger than life. "Fo me?", she said. I replied with, "Just for you. Angel kisses. Big, warm, kisses from heaven."

With that, she released. I carried her to her room and placed her in bed. "Ni Ni, Angels." She said as she shut her eyes. And as if on cue, a rumble of thunder was heard. She looked at me with delight, her eyes wide. "And that is their way of saying, Ni Ni, girl-cub."

She was out cold within a minute, angelic bliss flowed across her face.

I was a proud dad that night. One more notch in my never ending belt. Even my wife mentioned it was pretty cool. Wow, I was on a roll! Maybe I can perk an interest with mom to help make another cub tonight? LOL Hey, I'm a guy! What did you expect? But, I'll stop there. I don't want the wife reading this later and unleashing the flying monkeys on my @ss.

Now here comes the fun part of the story; the next night.

The next night, after giving the girl-cub the nose-nose-kiss-kiss-hug-hug goodnight tradition, the parents were winding down after a long day. Until, from upstairs, a large crash was heard, like someone had jumped off the couch onto the floor.

What was that!? The girl-cub should have been asleep by now!

Then, there was screaming and running. Footsteps stomped along from our room to the girl-cub's room. Mom and I flew up the stairs. I was ready to throw down. What we found was girl-cub climbing back into her bed in an outright frenzy, sobbing uncontrollably! Her breathing was rapid. Snot and tears squirting from her face. “What's wrong!” my stern voice commanded. Girl-cub wails into the night,“The Angels don't love me anymore!!!! WHAAAaaaaaaaa!!!”

See, the storm from last night was no more. No kisses from the angels were there. No love from the Angels could be seen. Girl-cub was taking this personal. All because of me! Well done, DAD! What are you going to do now, huh? Huh!? Don't let your daughter's pain last any longer! Think quick, Dad. Think quick!

It was like staring down an out of control car, which surprisingly looked like my own car. Heh, how ironically funny is that? I should jump left. I should jump right. I should just stand there and kiss the bumper hello. Damn it, man! You got her into this mess. Get her out of it!!

"Ooohhh... Huuuuuney,... It doesn't mean they don't love you. It's just that there are other children in the world that are having a bad night. They know you are alright. Their kisses told you so last night."

"Oh, so they are helping other children?"

"Yes, hun." as I wiped her down.

"Oh,.. (she spent five seconds pondering this) ...ok." With that, the whirlwind chaotic hysteria stopped, and off to sleep she went. I sat with her for another 15 minutes. I couldn't pull myself away. I had scared her so. I petted her face and spun her hair in circles, even though she had long ago traveled into sleepy-land.

Parental note: As quickly a nice day in the park can come upon you, so can stepping in a big pile of dog crap. Being a parent, you need to be on your toes at every moment. Maybe next time, I'll just tell her the truth though.

By the time I made it back to my bedroom, mom was already in bed. She pulled the comforter over her shoulder and rolled onto one side. Her parting words for the night were, "Nice save, Jack-Ass."

"Hey! That's Mr. Jack-Ass to you, Missy!"

Little Bastard Bobby

So if there are any parents out there that can be amused by what comes out of a child's mouth, you will like this next story that happened to me today.

I'm dropping off girl-cub at school this morning, with boy-cub in tow. The normal routine is run; we park, get out, walk to the classroom, hang the backpack and jacket, say hi to the teacher, and then out to the playground she goes, while I leave to drop off boy-cub at his preschool.

Well, it wasn't going to be the normal routine today. After hanging the backpack and jacket, the teacher says with a serious look on her face, "Ahh, Mister Craig, I need you to come here please."

Wow, how could that feeling from so many years ago come creeping back into my head? A teacher wanted to speak with me in that tone that said, you're busted. I snapped out of it and said, "Hey, I didn't do it." Now that was good, Craig. That didn't work then. It isn't going to work now.

"So, Mister Craig, what are you teaching your daughter at home?" She asked, and again with that cold stern look on her face. Oh crap, what did she say in class, I thought.

The teacher hands me a page of paper with girl-cub's drawing on the top and writing near the bottom. It was of her and a new friend from her class; Bobbie. Before getting to the bottom to read what was there, I looked back at the teacher. Her face was red, and I quickly looked back at the page to read the writing.

"I like Bobbie, because he is sex" The internal fight to not laugh was huge, because she meant six. But I didn't because it seemed to me that the teacher was actually pissed. I slowly raised my eyes to look into hers, and she couldn't hold back. She herself burst into tears laughing with a look in her eye that said, "Got'cha!"

I've been laughing all day, and also keeping an eye out for that little bastard Bobbie.

Oh Dear God!!

As a parent, the words just uttered from my four year old boy, almost gave me a heart attack. No... really!

"Daddy, I have bloody pee."

Yes,..... You are doing what I did. But being there, being my child, I think my internal reaction was far worse than any of yours.

"What honey!!? Let me see!" As I raced toward the bathroom. He came out the doorway doing the waddle dance, his pants still around his ankles, and holding his penis with both hands. Yep, there was blood. Oh Dear God, I thought. Hospital run, for sure.

"What happened!" I said in the only way I could. I thought, 1) That's my boy's manhood! Please don't be anything seriously wrong. And 2) How the hell am I going to explain this to the emergency room staff? You know they're not going to believe me!

But something wasn't right. He didn't seem to be in any pain. My mind then raced... Oh Dear God! He's got a concussion! It's internal bleeding! He's hemorrhaging! Yes, I know, stupid logic. But it wasn't happening to you!

At that moment, that brief moment that will forever be sand-blasted on my brain, he did something I wasn't prepared for. He smiled like the Cheshire cat, let go of himself with both hands, and proceeded to lick his fingers.

Ok, I'll admit it, I threw-up in my mouth, I vurped. I swallowed, before saying, "Oh Dear God, Child! What are you doing!?" And with an even bigger grin, he says, "Mmmmmm Flaming Hot Cheetos. They're good!"

It all made sense now, and I couldn't believe how angry I got, but I kept it under wraps and inside like a good parent should. While I was upstairs folding laundry, he must have sneaked a bag of those stain-your-finger chips. When he finished his snack, nature called.

"Oh honey, that's not blood." Thinking fast and quelling my anger, I continued, "But thanks for letting me know. Always let me know about something like that, ok? And don't forget, you're supposed to wash up before and after going potty, right?"

"Oh, that's right. But Daddy?"

"Yes, son"

With head held high, chest out, and pride beaming from his face, he says, "I peed like a man!" He did it standing up! That's my boy!

"Well done, big boy, well done!" "I'd give you a high-five, but right now you need to wipe off your shoes and get ready for a bath."

"Ok Daddy" was all he said stumbling up the stairs for the bathtub, pants still at his ankles.

Daddy, on the other hand, ran to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine. Or six.

About Me

I have written stories about the trials of being a SAHD from the very beginning.  I've never posted them anywhere.  As I get going into this process, I will occasionally post those stories, as well as stories I've written that have nothing to do with that topic. I hope they give you a laugh, usually at my expense of course, and they give you a sense of what goes through THIS male's mind. Some will be fiction, most not. Some will be from years ago, some will be from yesterday. As you get to know me, I sometimes write from my inner sphincter. I beat my chest and rant uncontrollably. And to me, Rant is a four letter word, which doesn't offend me at all. I grew up sailing the Pacific, so I have the mind and mouth of a Blue-water sailor. You've been warned! : ) I am looking forward to reading the writing here, even though I'm totally outnumbered. LOL That's ok for me. I'm a stay at home dad, I'm outnumbered all the time anyway. Welcome. Take care. I hope to converse with you later.

Baby Floss

Many years ago, my brother-in-law came over to see our new boy-cub. Girl-cub and Boy-cub is what I use for our children because if you've ever heard of the Momma-bear Baby-bear syndrome; it has NOTHING on me. You mess with my children, I'm gonna leave you with a lisp and limp for the rest of your life. ; ) That's just how I roll. Anyway, my bro-in-law is a bachelor and he parks his truck, at his house, under a tree, with hopes that more bird shit will accumulate on it. He's a great guy and all, and I don't know why he just glazes over that fact, but hey, some men(Ok, MOST men) won't ask for directions either. AND THEN, he bitches about being single!

I think to myself, “Well no shit, dude. No chick is gonna want to be with someone that drives a curly-cue shit mobile! WTF?”

My wife and I live in the same area she grew up in. We live in the family house. We are big into the community. So when I saw, at the gas station, the High School Cheer and Band were having a car wash fund raiser, I naturally said, “Dear God, dude. Give me your keys.” And drove his shit mobile their way. I tipped them before they even started to wash it.

As I sat there with “Baby Face” (the look on a parents face that scream, oh wow, you're tired! You must have a newborn) and thoughts and ideas ran through my head, something jumped out at me. It startled me. My mind went wild with questions. The whole Cheer squad were wearing them! When I got home, my wife was flooded with questions and worries. “Honey! When am I going to be Ok with, and at what age is it going to be Ok, for our daughter to wear a G-string!!??” OMG, I was freaking out. This question didn't come into my head when we were thinking of children, EVER! Yet, here it was, like a canoe paddle to the back of the head. “Oh Holy shit. I didn't want THIS responsibility! I don't want to be a parent anymore!!!!!!!!” My mind flailed around like a fish on deck. “How do we explain, if we don't want her to, that even though mom wears them, she can't? OMG! What the hell!??”

My wife, sat down on the sofa, took a long breath and sighed. “Honey,... When that time comes, we'll know what to say and do. Right now, you need to calm down, she's only two years old.”

I sat down next to her thinking, this parenting thing sucks.