Thursday, June 28, 2012

Say it like you mean it....@#$%&$#

When I was younger I had what you might call a potty mouth. Now I'm not talking about removing my pacifier to cuss out Mr. Green Jeans or anything....Captin Kangaroo??? Anyone?? Anyone???

Anyway, I'm mostly talking about when life actually starts to go to hell. You know, the teen years.
But now that I'm a parent I'm pretty aware of the things that come out of my mouth. Nothing like having to explain why your clown is calling her first grade classmates douchtards.
But just because I choose not to cuss, most of the time, doesn't mean I can't or don't remember all the good ones.

My DW on the other hand....

See the DW was what I'd consider a sheltered child. And because of this as an adult she has a hard time in the art of profanity. Yes I say art. Some of us can spew dirty language with great gusto you know. Myself, I always find my artistic side while working on vehicles.

Back to my point. The DW.

Now on the very, very rare occasion that she gets so mad that something like this comes out of her mouth, well, plain and simple she doesn't know how to cuss right. Oh sure she knows the words, shit, hell, damn, even the grandaddy of 'em all the big MF. But she doesn't know how to use them together. I think the majority of her problem is timing. Maybe if she had a minute to think she'd be better at the cussword combo. But in the heat if the moment you don't have that kind of time you just gotta let 'er fly, and when she does it turns out more comical then Bad Ass. Not that cussing at the jerk who pulled out in front of you makes you a bad ass but you get my point.


So she knows the words but her combinations just don't go together. It's sort of like eating green beans with spaghetti. You see she says things like damn shit, or mother asshole. Hell damn and shit hell. Its more of a sling shot approach where one word comes at you at a time. Not like us professionals who use the machine gun approach and just rapid fire until we're out of breath.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm glad I'm not married to a gal who makes a sailor blush with the language she uses, but just once it'd be nice if she could get the right combo in the moment.


So tell me are you more of a sling shot cusser or a gangster with a uzi.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

If only the Maid didn't suck...

So around the Palace things can get pretty messy what, with the Ninjas, the DW's business and my overall laziness, items like laundry, dishes, and general housework have a tendency to get put on the back burner or pushed aside. Ok whom I kidding, I just don't feel like doing 'em.

So because of this, and me being the awesome husband I am, I've hired a maid.

Oh I can hear y'all now, must be nice wish I had a maid. Or maybe you're thinking, boy he sure does take care if his lady.

But the thing is the maid actually sucks. I constantly have to go back and put dishes in the correct places or on higher shelves. I have to refold laundry, and I'm pretty sure one night we actually ate off dirty dishes, because the dishwasher wasn't run.

Now I know what your thinking here. The workload is just to much for one person, right? Well I thought about that too, and to compensate I've actually hired three maids for the summer.
Now I must admit, their wages are pretty cheap, but if the whinning doesn't stop I might have to end up firing all three of them.

I'm sure that's exactly what they want.


Monday, June 18, 2012

Happy Birthday to Me...

So today is my birthday, y'all. Happy Birthday to me right?

Now I don't typically get depressed on this day, or overwhelmed or whatever. I just go with the 'ol saying, it is what it is. We all get older and life was meant to be lived right?

But, today I was a little depressed. I had to work and it's Monday, nuff said...... OK that's not the only reason I was a bit depressed.

You see inside I'm a bit of a Happiness Seeker. You know, someone who is always searching for himself. Trying to figure out who I am and what I want to be. I constantly think about new careers, new places to live, new adventures. And it's because of this constant guessing of who am I that brought upon today's depression.  Today I battled with the question, what am I doing with my life? I thought, another year past and still I have no idea. No idea about who I am? Who I want to be? Who I should be?

Then She told me.

I'm a Daddy who keeps the clowns straight. Who cleans up their messes. Who listens to them. Who makes them laugh. Who loves them. I'm a Daddy who takes care of them.

She told me I'm a Husband who anchors her ship. She told me I'm a best friend, and a provider. I'm everything she wants me to be.

She told me all these things by all the things she did, not by all the things she bought. Although those were great too.

So here's to another year older. Now that I know who I am, maybe I'll start searching for something to add to it.

Thank you DW for being such an Awesome DW. I love you.


Wednesday, June 13, 2012


For those of you who may not know, let me just say for the record that I hate summertime.

I know. You're all thinking, how can this be? What's wrong with you?

Now to my clowns this time of year means catching fireflies, swimming in the pool, and staying up late. It's a time for eating smores, sleeping in, and sun kissed cheeks.

But for dad it's totally different.

For me it means wet  floors all over the house, because everybody knows that swimming makes you have to pee every five minutes, and they never have to go just a little bit. They always wait until they're about to pee their pants before they come in. Which means they don't dry off.

It means doors left open and bugs let in. It means more laundry because you can't dry off today with the same towel you used yesterday. And you most certainly can't put the same clothes back on.

Summertime means more money out of dads pocket too. It means buying  more potato chips, cookies, and popcorn. It means more housework because said chips, cookies and popcorn crumbs find their way onto the chair, couch, and floor.

And worst of all, summertime means loss of sleep for 'ol dad. With the addition of daylight savings time it now doesn't get dark until about 9:30. And since my clowns don't have to get up early, that means the DW doesn't have to get up early either. Naturally this means we all should stay up late watching Ant Farm, Jessie, or whatever happens to be on Disney. The problem with this is that only one of us has to get up at five in the morning. Guess who looses that battle.

Soooo, when does school start again???


Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Here Kitty Kitty.....

So when I was a kid we had a dog. She was a little yapper, pain in the ass kind of dog, but she was our dog. And we loved her.

Then one day when I was maybe in the sixth grade, I came home from school and was told that my dad had run over her with the car and he had to take her to the vet, she may not make it.

I cried. I know, not very cool for the boy with the feathered hair, tight rolled pants and stone washed jeans right? Nonetheless, I cried. Now not only did I cry, but I hated my dad for running over her. As if it was his fault. But in my mind it was. After all it's always the parents fault right?

OK so I tell you that story to tell you this one.

We have a cat. He's strictly an indoor cat, but for whatever reason this cat wants to go outside. He's been neutered and still has his claws so aside from bringing crap inside like mice and bugs, there's really no reason why he couldn't go out.

So last Saturday night when the clowns were in bed, the DW came home from the store and needed a hand with the bags. Now me being the awesome hubs I am, I went out and gave her a hand. And while we were bringing the groceries in, the cat got out. She claims it was my fault. I'm going with the cat opened the door and made a break for it. Either way, it was on my watch.

So I went out and tried to get him back inside, but as soon as I'd get close, he'd take off into the field. So naturally I had to do what I had to do. Not because I care about this cat, but because of my dad and our dog. So I got my flashlight put on my shoes and went outside determined to bring back my kid's pet.

After a few attempts and scratches later, I was unsuccessful in bringing him in. I was convinced that he was gone for good, and I would have to explain to my clowns how Cat, that's sort of his name, was now gone and it was my fault.

It turns out that all those many years ago, my dad decided to save the dog. I'm sure it was against his will, but he couldn't have his kids hate him forever for running over their pet. She ended up living for nearly ten more years, and all was good. Last Saturday night around four in the morning Cat came back. I sprung up out of bed and let him back inside, because after all, I couldn't have my clowns hating me for letting their pet run away.

That cat just saved my tail....


Monday, June 4, 2012

Do you let your clowns win?

As you all know I have three clowns, and with that comes challenges, of all kinds.
And lately I've been debating on if I should let my clowns win.

We recently purchased a real adjustable outdoor basketball goal for the clowns. The boy clown loves it and is really pretty good considering his age. While my girls are just out there to have a little fun, the boy is out for blood.

I recently read something that said parents should fill a child up with so much self esteem that the world will never be able to drain them of it.

Here's my problem. My son lacks this self esteem. I'm not sure if this is my fault or not. I'm sure in a few years when he's laying on the couch costing my $120 an hour explaining to some Dr. Phil wanna be, it will surely be my fault.

Back to letting them win.

It's because of his lack of self esteem that I often feel obligated to let him win we play something, particularly basketball. It's turned out to be his favorite sport.
Now I don't mind loosing to the boy at this stage in our lives. I feel like he needs it. He needs me. It does get a little embarrassing when he yells out IS THAT ALL YOU GOT SUGAR PUFF after I miss a shot, but for the most part I feel like this is good for him.

So what's the right thing to do? Should I let him win to help build his self esteem. To help him understand that he can do anything he puts his mind to? Or should I beat him and help him to understand that not everything in life is just handed to us. And if you want to win you have to put the time and effort into it?

What about you? Do you let your clowns win or do you dominate and let them learn the hard way?