He also coined the title, “Pity Da Fool” or “PDF” courtesy the all-American A-Team hero and renowned star of Snickers commercials Mr. T. He states “[It’s the] Mom who looks at [us] with varying degrees of condescending pity.
I do run into the PDF every now and then, but I find much more frequently the “BAD“. The Broad in Awe of Dad. She’s the checkout lady, the miss in line, the woman at the bank, the mom’s at dance or karate class who say, “So you have the kids today?” and I reply so self-assuredly, “I have them everyday babe- all FOUR of them.” Instantly a profound gaze of wonder appears over their faces as they contemplate the miracle of nature before them. Against all odds, what they could only imagine in a science fiction novel or during their thirth-thousandth time srubbing behind a toilet, stands before them: the elusive stay-at-home dad. “A man who does what I do! If you could only talk to my husband!” they say as their eyes well up with tears. It’s about that time I smirk and note just how easy this job is. “You know, watching Jerry Springer, drinking beer and eating left over fish sticks, breaded and dreaded. Its paradise.” “Way easier than the business world.” I reply. “Now THAT’S work! Hey, when the kids remember their hunger, I toss them their 1000th fruit snack and get back to Madden ’09 on the Wii.” This usually results in a mouth a gape to which I fling out the old rescue, “I’m only kidding!” The BAD is restored.
These spanx rub!
When my wife is enjoying her 3rd free business lunch of the week and I’m eating Ramen and hot pockets again, (not that often) I remind myself that even though the reality is, it is the toughest job I’ve ever had, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. The time spent with the kids, watching them grow into real people with all our good qualities, and bad, is truly priceless. <I had to pause here to put my youngest son in timeout for hitting his sister> Plus being a stay at home dad of mystique ain’t all that bad either. It’s like being James Bond, but with juice boxes.
Clean up, on aisle "your face!"
Nothing is more fun than grocery shopping with multiple assailants with a bent for anarchy. especially when they behave like Sinanju ninja’s trained by Chiun himself. Over the summer I have all 4 with me but now that school is back in full swing its the two youngest ones who leave the wake of terror. And of course I am always in a hurry which exponentially increases the defcon level.
So yesterday, as I am crossing off everything on my grocerygame list, (I’m already frustrated because I can’t find things I am looking for because King Soopers puts organic items in their own complete section [thanks environmental wackos]) and I come to the dreaded end because guess whats left? Well if you read the title you guessed it. By now I didn’t care because when I am mad appearances don’t matter as much anymore. I am furiously pacing up and down the feminine hygiene products aisle and see every form of maxi-this and panti-liner that but no tampons. Thats when a store manager taps me on the shoulder in front of his female associate and asks if I need any help. I turn to find he’s a former colleague from my mortgage business days. I state, quite loudly, “Yes, I can’t find the tampons!” It was a glorious moment in the epoch of man. Needless to say I bought pads and tampons like I was stocking up for armegeddon.
These things need a slogan campaign like Taco Bell's hot sauce packets
Of course later that evening my wife lets me know that she doesn’t use pads, but liners so now all these wonder inventions of the 21st century will now have to be returned to the store by yours truly. In a moment of grace and self-sacrifice my dear wife told me she would return them to spare me the torturous task of having to be humiliated again.
The reality is I don’t mind buying that kind of stuff. It just adds to the mystique of “super husband”.
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I just hit the water this morning with my bud Steve and it was COLD! Skiing Boyd Lake is a blast on a Tuesday morning because the water is almost glass and only a smattering of fisherman drift on the fringes and in the coves. At almost 35, I’m still learning how to ski. This was my best day yet crossing the wake and getting more comfortable. My last 5 vertebrae are still sore from when I bit it 2 weeks ago trying to get up on a slalom and folded backwards like an accordion. We’ll hit it again Thursday and hopefully stave off paralysis. I also realized that the reason I feel like I have been in a UFC cage fight is because I am not very good at water skiing.
Pan-Fried Onion Dip
Makes 2 cups
Barefoot Contessa Cookbook
2 large yellow onions
4 Tablespoons unsalted butter
¼ cup vegetable oil
¼ teaspoon ground cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon kosher salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
4 ounces cream cheese, room temperature
½ cup sour cream
½ cup good mayonnaise
Cut the onions in half, and then slice them into 1/8-inch-thick half-rounds. (You will have about 3 cups of onions.)
Heat the butter and oil in a large sauté pan on medium heat. Add the onions, cayenne, salt, and pepper and sauté for 10 minutes. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook, stirring occasionally, for 20 more minutes, until the onions are browned and caramelized. Allow the onions to cool.
Place the cream cheese, sour cream, and mayonnaise in the bowl of a food processor and pulse until smooth. Add the onions and mix well. Taste for seasonings.
Serve at room temperature.
Thanks to Carol L for getting this to me!