Egg-a-muffin

For my 45^th birthday, I received the greatest gift of my adult life… a sweet-ass breakfast sandwich maker.  And I’m not talking the ghetto, single sandwich entry-level model my hotshot nephew has.  I received the deluxe, double-barreled beauty of my dreams.   This puppy…

All that, AND it looks like I’m having boobs for breakfast

My excitement surrounding this gift should tell you one of two things.  Either a) I usually get shitty presents on my birthday or b) I highly value the savory, delicious combination of English Muffin, eggs, cheese and my choice of meat(s).

John Goodman says the answer is B

And what’s the best thing about this gift?   I never even asked for it.  Somehow my wife deduced that I wanted one.  Maybe she could see the longing in my egg shaped eyes.  Maybe she could hear the gurgling my stomach produced whenever we passed a McDonalds before 10 am.  Or maybe it’s because she just knows me.   Who knows?  Although, I HAVE hinted at a threesome for years, aaaaaand…

I’m Lovin’ It

So anyway… if you’re ever in my neighborhood and feel the need to nosh… give me 5 minute’s notice.  And don't worry, breakfast is served all day.

AND... since you've read this far anyway... please share on Facebook.  I'm trying to get my readership up into the 10s.

Oh Boy!

I was recently exposed on Facebook to an annoying article regarding the “5 things ALL new moms need to know” about raising boys.  Color me unimpressed. 

I’m speculating that the article was written by aliens from an all-female planet.  Why?  Because the “revelations” we’re all painfully obvious.  Boys have a lot of energy… Boys get dirty… Boys pee on everything.  I don’t want to spoil the ending, but DUH!

I bet at least 2 of them are peeing.

So without further ado, here are the 5 things all new moms REALLY need to know about raising boys  (by the way, if you question my list making qualifications on this topic be aware that I come from a long line of “boys only” households.  My father has two sons.  My brother has two sons.  And, I have two sons.  In fact, the only way we get females into our houses is to trick them.  We know boys)...

#1:  If you pull your son’s bed into the middle of the room, you will find a well-defined line just below mattress height all along the wall.  The official term for this phenomenon is “booger-wall”.  Boys will do this into their late 20s.  Go ahead and check.  I’ll wait here for you.

#2:  All boys will pee in the shower... eventually.  It may take some longer to start than others, but once they do there’s no going back.  The longer you can shame your sons into refraining, the better.  One guy I know didn’t start until he was 30.  Today his shower smells like a Texico bathroom.

#3:  Your son will know at least 5-7 “funny” ways to describe vomiting by the time he’s 10.  Shout at your shoes.  Call Ralph on the big white telephone.  Technicolor yawn.  Sorry.  It’s what we do.  Things really get out of hand when the other bodily functions enter into the mix… and rest assured, they will.

#4:  Boys (usually below the age of 8) will occasionally forget to go to the bathroom.  And just so we’re clear… they still eliminate their bladder and bowels.  It’s just that, a “bathroom” is nowhere in sight.  Don’t worry about this one too much unless they’re still doing it into their teens (and it’s a good idea to make sure you have an extra pair of underwear at the ready).

#5:  Boys love nudity.  At first it’s mostly their own, and it’s kind of funny.  As they get older they’ll begin to seek out the nudity of others, and it's not so funny.  My advice is to keep a lid on this one.  Subscribe to Cinemax if you have to and always knock before entering their room.

Not so cute now… am I?

So there you have it.  Maybe it’s not Facebook friendly after all.  

Baby’s Got Back (spasms)

For the last two weeks, my lovely wife has suffered horribly with back spasms.  At times, her pain has been manageable.  Other times, it’s been unbearable.  The whole time, it’s been a huge pain in (and above) her ass.

A few days into it, we thought things might be getting better.  However, after spending 5 hours sitting in a metal chair designed by the Marquis De Sade at a “trivia night”… things took a turn for the worse.  The trouble started on her lower right side and has worked itself westward gaining valuable new real estate.  I’m no doctor, but I think the most accurate diagnosis for her current medical condition is… “DON’T F#@KING TOUCH ME!”    

Hers goes to 11.

The good news is… she’s (hopefully) starting to get better.  The bad news is… I used up my Dad “bag of tricks” for keeping the house and family in order about 3 days ago.  You see (and this won’t be a surprise to anyone who knows us), my wife carries 98% of the load in our house.  She cooks the majority of the meals.   She cleans the majority of the house.  She takes care of the majority of our kids.  For those of you wondering, my 2% consists of mowing the lawn, killing random spiders and resetting the clocks at daylight savings time (all of which she’s more capable of doing than I am, except the spider thing).

If it wasn’t for these guys, I’d be out on my ass.

She’s the heart, brains and soul of our family (basically she’s the whole body – except the lower back).  And if we didn't realize it fully before, we certainly know it now.  We need you.  We love you.  And, we hope you get well soon.

Well, time to run.  I have to figure out which cereal the boys and I are having for dinner tonight.

I'm telling you now...

My oldest nephew graduates from college today. 

I remember where I was when I got the call announcing his birth.  It was a shabby college apartment.  It was the Monday before Thanksgiving.  It was right after dinner.  If memory serves correctly, I immediately grabbed a bottle of Root Beer Schnapps, announced to my roommates that I was an uncle, and toasted (and re-toasted then re-re-toasted) the good news.  Details regarding the remainder of the evening are somewhat hazy; however, there’s a distinct possibility that the U of I women’s bowling team was involved.  But any-hoo…

Any of you ladies want to buff my bowling balls?

Flash forward to last night.  After work, I spent a couple of glorious hours registering my children for 4^th and 7^th grade.  And trust me, if you’ve never done that before… it’s exactly as fun as you’d think (imagine Disneyworld size lines mixed with an inner-city Wal-Mart atmosphere).  Because the wait was long and because I could no longer tolerate the people surrounding me, my mind began to wander.  I started to think of the short time left before my sons graduate from high school… and then college.

I know, I know… they’ve still got many years to go.  But seeing how quickly the years between my nephew’s birth (and my subsequent run in with the “lady” bowlers) and his graduation passed… I’m thinking there’s not as much time left as I’d hoped.

For those of you who don’t know, our family has been blessed with unique challenges.  My oldest son is the smartest person I’ve ever met.  He’s the sweetest person I know.  And, he also happens to have high-functioning autism.   Through that, he has managed to maintain a straight-A average and win his way into the hearts of everyone who’s ever met him.  Our youngest son was born with a congenital heart defect.  He had two heart surgeries prior to his second birthday.  He’s the bravest soul I’ve ever met and the one person I’d want to have my back in case of a zombie apocalypse.  He’s a fighter and every bit as smart as his brother.

So as I entered my happy place in line at registration last night, I began to imagine the scene at their respective graduations.  I’ll tell you now… it’s NOT going to be pretty.  So let this stand as your official warning…  Please don’t ask me how I’m feeling that day.  Definitely don’t approach me in a “huggy” way.  And, whatever you do… don’t try to stop me from sobbing uncontrollably.  Trust me… it’s a good cry.  I’ve earned it.

And little Johnny was never seen again.

There IS one thing you CAN do for me though.  If you see any female bowlers lurking about… tell them I split.