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WHO would have though 15-20 years ago one would need to budget for their coffee consumption? Who in their right mind would think anyone would pay $3.50 for a coffee? God Bless America!
You know, I expect to be over-charged and pay $3.50 for my mocha habit at Starbucks. What I don’t expect and what gives me an awkward tinge of guilty heartburn is paying $3.75 for a smaller size at my church coffee shop. Yes, I belong to one of those cool, trendy churches that actually has a cafe’ on its premises. That aside, where is the tenet of generosity of our faith when my wallet is hijacked by the looting horde of mocha’s, caramel macchiatos and green tea lattes? Of course I know I don’t have to succumb to the temptation, but if you want to go there, should the church be in the business of tempting me to begin with? It’s an unholy alliance from top to bottom! Especially when you consider they charge $1 a donut! Remember the days when coffee and donuts were free after the service? Well I do. It was at our old church. Makes me think, maybe competition isn’t so bad after all. Now I shall retire to repent of my sins.
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.
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.
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.
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”.
Bluemoon Brewing’s Honeymoon Ale and margaritas
A wise man once said that, “Chuck Norris’ tears cure cancer. Too bad he’s never cried. Ever.” I know its true. You know it. The American people know it. It begs the question however. Do real men cry. As I dab my eyes and wipe my dripping snot away I say, “Hell yes they cry!” What man hasn’t cried after waking up from from a short nap after being hit in the knap sack? Emotionally speaking, men should cry. Its a sign of strong mental health. I think it was General Norman Schwarzkopf who said, “Any man who doesn’t cry scares me a little.” We have to cry over the right things. I’m not talking about when the Broncos traded Jay Cutler. Crying over a death – a loved one, a marriage. You have to be strong enough TO cry. But as a man, is it okay to cry over other things? What about stress? Work, marriage, kids, finances, Brett Michaels still a pop icon?
My favorite things about being a sah dad is scrubbing the floor behind the toilets and ped egging my bunions. Actually wresting with my kids, seeing them play nicely together and experiencing each of their unique belly laughs are a few of my favorite things. What are your “today” favorite things about being a dad?