Author Archive

6 months have passed since the twins were born and it’s interesting to see how our lives have gone from complete panic and stress to one of “i know what i have to do to enjoy an hour on the couch after everyone is asleep”. at about the 3 month old mark, just before julie was getting ready to head back to work, we still hadnt put much thought into how two working adults were going to get out of the house in the morning in time for work, let alone how the house itself would survive such chaos.

it was the ‘on the outside looking in’ mentality that really built up the severity and intensity of the nuts and bolts of having three kids, 2 in babycarriers, that really fucked with our brains those first few days of practicing getting out of the house.

i remember the first day we tried to get all 3 kids out of the house. it was complete chaos. dylan wouldnt put his shoes on, julie couldnt stop lactating, i had an erection that broke the dishwasher handle, the twins were constantly rapping the intro to ‘rapper’s delight’ over and fucking over… it was cinematic gold but in reality it was possibly the most stressful morning imagineable. what was going wrong was far outweighing what was going right.

what was going right was that we had everything necessary to get out of the door that morning all ready the night before.

we realized that getting things laid out the night before made the morning that much easier, regardless of projectile vomiting episodes, liquid shit blowouts at 6am, pouting kids who would rather jump off the couch repeatedly than put their clothes on, having to chase the naked one across the neighbor’s yard while he squeals and giggles with his naked glee-like giggle squeal, aka squeggle.

the one thing we can’t control is how the humans in the situation are going to wake up. sometimes im a complete fucking assface, sometimes jules is a complete coozerocket complete with countdown to bitchtoff, sometimes dylan is an angel, sometimes the twins are so busy working on their infant-algebraic equations meant to solve the problems of childhood menopause that they dont even cry or hurl when we’re getting them dressed and un-shitted.

we cant controll the human factor, but we can control the little odds and ends that can stand in the way of an easy departure or a dragging ass – i want to stab my spouse in the spine and deep fry his/her orbital nerve in a pot of moose semen (its happened in canada im sure).

what are these odds and ends?

*6 clean bottles with nipples, caps & collars
*pre-made baby formula for our happy spitter professor GERD.
*extra clothes for our poddy training ninja with blue eyes and a vicious right hook.
*55 extra bibs for our pair of puking, drool puddling, diaper draining darlings
*boxes of diapers that have ruined my ability to stop and pick up a 6 pack on a whim
*cans of formula that have ruined my ability to SAVE UP to stop and pick up a 6 pack on a PLANNED EXCURSION

and that shit is just for the kids, this doesnt even include my list of odds and ends:
*77 high powered rifle rounds
*1 bottle of ether
*3 oz. of imaginary pot that i smoke on the way to and the way home from work
*5 bottles of water: 2 for my imaginary mountain hikes, 3 for regular hydration
*1 lunch packed with whatever my wife left me (which lately has been an apple, a thing of yogurt & a baggie of crushed dreams)
*my laptop, which is sticky from peanut butter fingers trying to “go elmo site, go elmo site, i log on daddy, i logging”
*my testicles: which anyone who knows me, knows that i have ginormous testicles that i actually have to stow in my truck bed because my second row of seats is chock full of child seats.

julie brings the following:
*her lunch (which is usually a pan roasted protein followed by a vegetable medley that is made desk-side by her live in chef *who is a butch lesbian by the name of Butchbian*)
*her coffee
*my wallet
*my hopes and dreams

see it isnt about how fast you can get out the door, it’s about what can you do the night before that will allow you to not worry about what you’re possibly forgetting. all you gotta do in the morning is get the HUMANS clothed and free of large quantities of shit. the rest of that shit daycare can take care of, that’s why you pay them more than you pay for your mortgage.

eat my ass adulthood, may you suckle on my mantits while i channel surf through classic nfl games JUST FUCKING DROOLING OVER ANOTHER FOOTBALL SEASON ON ITS WAY.

love,

dad

now that im a recovering catholic who has completely sworn off all things religious, i am still unable to take time off from work without feeling like a complete douchenozzle. but i guess i should mention that i am completely pro-not-being-an-asshole, so yeah, wait, that’s the exact opposite of what catholics have been in my experience… moving on

the guilt is so ingrained into my psyche that when i was recovering from having my appendix out april before last, i was back at work (and soon back home on the couch) after only a few days. i hate myself for not enjoying the time i earn off and making the most of it.
now since having kids ive taken dozens of days to care for them if their sick or take them out to the zoo or something, but ive never actually taken a day off for myself since my balls got me into this mess.

so today is a day off. all week my wife has been pestering me to make plans for our super happy fun day off. all week ive been putting it off because, shit, i REALLY want to have no plans and do whatever the fuck i feel like doing. so last night at 10 i said “hey, we have no plans tomorrow. we’re taking all 3 kids to daycare. im doing whatever the fuck i feel like doing.”
she was initially upset at the fact that we werent visiting one of chicago’s fine cultural exhibits or bistros (we love bistros because we can usually include body parts into conversations and put an “o” or an “isima” at the end of them and make them sound like edible treats) (im lying). but this morning at 445 when our oldest came trotting into the room saying “i wanna watch a movie” she looked at me and said “we can take a nap today, yes?”
to which i answered “yes chef” (ever since hells kitchen came out she says “yes?” at the end of a statement. it’s annoying but, hey, she let’s me see her naked).

we took the kids to daycare and passed a half dozen daycare friends on the way out “are you guys off today?” – followed by that look that screams “AND YOURE NOT SPENDING IT WITH YOUR KIDS?”.
i answered “hell yes. im going to read, sleep & i might even get to shit with the door closed.”
these people acted offended at such a thing, but i could tell their comments were basically rooted in a spiteful jealousy.

listen motherfuckers, not that i have to explain myself to you, but seriously:
i pay for daycare 5 days a week even if theyre only there 3 days.
i work all the fucking time and still have over a week of earned time off to use before december 31st.
i have chores around the house that could easily take me months if i do them 15 minutes at a time in between feedings, wipings & bathings & the occasional raspberry/zerbert/tickle session. if i do them at one time without distractions? an hour.
i spend all of my time away from the pharmacy with my kids, and while they are my everything, they dont do much for my housekeeping schedule or ability to SHIT WITH THE FUCKING DOOR CLOSED.
i havent taken a nap solo since 2008.

id like to think today is my day motherfucker.

so yes, wifey ate her breakfast too quick (and drank 4 MGD64′s last night- EEEEEEEEW!) and ended up having to clenchwalk her way through target while we grocery shopped & SPRINTED into the house when we pulled in with our groceries.
yes, wifey had a list of things for me to do that she read off while throned.
yes, i did the list & said “take me to the pool & then take me home & then dont fucking talk to me until 5pm”

so my day off so far, wasnt all that i had dreamnt, but we still havent come to the “teabagging” portion of my day. if wifey read the schedule i made out she’d notice that she completely overlooked the “taintmassage”, “mutual masturbation” and prostate milking sections of my mental shhhedule. (pronounced shhhhhhhhhedule)

the reason im telling you this is that alot of my friends never take actual days for themselves. maybe theyre still catholic or something, but i can only hope that some of you grundlemuffins learn to appreciate time spent WITHOUT your kids now and then, cause damn, shitting with the door closed is fucking akin to eating a blueberry muffin IN the motherfucking oven while getting yer toes licked by a playboy model who’s furiously frigging herself to the calendar of ME eating different assorted marinated and grilled meat delicasies.

now its the nap portion of my day, so do me a favor, EAT MY ASS AND SHUT THE FUCK UP.

when we had our first child, we were pretty intimidated with the process of getting out of the house so we would often forgo going places with all three of us. we were pussies; mainly because of the hassle of packing, the hassle of unpacking when you arrive, the possibility of drama, large crowds, etc.

it took a few months of understanding what the necessities were when taking a kid anywhere, but we got there, and we like it outside of the house. we like the warmer months where we can leave the house at 8am, get back at 2pm and feel like the rest of the day and night is ours to enjoy our home. we don’t feel trapped or bored or any of that shit.

we’re woken up by a go-get-em 2 year old at 5:45am every fucking day anyway, why sulk around the house?

so we get out there. as much of a pain in the rectum as it can be, it’s rewarding to see your kids experiencing things and enjoying the things that living outside of chicago can allow you.

but there are people out there, and if you’re one of them, i want you to fucking stab yourself in your eye and apologize the stabbing instrument for getting it dirty you fucking coozenozzles. there are people out there who feel the world is theirs for the taking and maybe i never noticed these assholes before having the twins, but i’d say about 66.6% of people have no clue that there are other people on the planet besides them.

now i dont want to insult the entire non-children-raising public, because there are alot of you fucking cockflowers out there with kids that are just as fucking ridiculously blind to the fact that you co-fucking-exist with other human beings too. but holy shit, this morning i encountered a type of person i thought only existed in the deep analls of my brain. (and my brain has many many analls)

*the scene unfolds at joel’s daycare in yorkthrill, illinoiz:
i proceed to unload my three cherubs of glee out of the dadvan (i call him “pussy magnet” when wifey’s not with us). with two carriers and a 2 year old the drill is to extract the twins first, then walk around and yank out the older one and force him with the threat of bodily harm to hold onto the handle of one carrier so as to not die by being squishy squishy.

aaaaaaaaaaand let the shuffle begin.

we’re shufflin. we’re shufflin.

we’re just about to enter into the handicapped space when a car screeches to a halt from behind us and honks its horn.

now listen motherfucker. im not one to stop traffic with my family, i mean my impecable lovehandles and my ginormous testicles might stop traffic, but come on, im walking through a parking lot of a fucking daycare, with three motherfucking kids yo.

this cocknosed vagbadge had already dropped her kids off, had entered her vehicle, put the car in reverse and slammed on the gas only to see is WALKING THE OTHER DIRECTION THROUGH A HANDICAP SPACE.

OF COURSE ITS MY FAULT FOR WALKING THROUGH AN AREA NORMALLY RESERVED FOR ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOTHING.

**HOOOOONK**
**HOOOOOONK**

being the masculine, quick witted, super-dad with an attitude that i pride myself in being i gently drop the carrier that isn’t being held by my two year old and sing loud as fuck operatically (like opera man, ok?) “EAAAT MY AAAAASS SNATCHPANTS!”

to my dismay, this lady actually wants to start some shit rather than either apologizing or moving the fuck on like anyone else would’ve done after they realize they almost killed 4 people, 3 of which are kids under 3, by not paying attention to where they’re backing up… IN A FUCKING DAYCARE PARKING LOT of all places.

she puts the car in park and steps out of her vehicle like an overweight zepplin of unfounded rage, armed only with the flabby upper arms and crispy third chin of a woman either completely ravaged by long term steroid and bad hormone replacement drugs or who just found out her husband sold her favorite tub of lard in exchange for a subscription to “Boobs For A Dad Who Gets None Anymore” or BFADWGNA for short.

this lady wanted to brawl.

bring it on cuntwrap supreme.

i stood where we were in the safety of the handicap spot and realized that this lady needed my pity, not my anger. she needed my love, not my foot up her thick lipped gash of misery. she needed my confidence, not my fucking elbow of steel inside her stinkstar.

do i really wanna put a fat bitch down on the concrete in front of my kids? no. id only do that if someone ever fucking touched their mom in front of em. i wont even enact that occurance in words because id be arrested for even thinking the thoughts im thinking about thinking when it comes time to be thinkin about thinkin about that shit, yo. (here is where you whisper in your head “GANGSTAAAAAA”)

i think after about the 4 minute mark she realized my male verility would allow me to stand there for the rest of enternity if need be, either that or the yawn i couldnt hold back. she made a shuffle of her rack of lamb sized legs and went to duck back into her shitbox when i said like a fucking asshole “weeeeelllllllllll?”
she popped back out.
“weeeellllllllllllll? dont you have something to say to my innocent children?”

silence

“hhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm?”

silence

“mmmmmmhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmm?”

silence

“how bout ‘hey kids, sorry for scaring you and almost running you over because i didnt look behind me and rather than just saying sorry to begin with i chose to enter into a battle of wits with the father of the frickin millenium over something so frickin simple as an apology, a head tilt and a wave.”

silence

she bent to get back in her car and left in silence. but as soon as she hit that corner out of my line of sight, boy she fuckin slammed on that gas pedal like her vagina was going to hit the back windshield from the G forces she was pilin on with her taintwagon.

so the moral of the story is, fucking pay attention. people take a lot of fucking time getting out of the house with their multiples, twins, triplets (hi @ryantrips & @tripsdad – you cockflowers), singletons, grandkids, nieces, nephews, what the fuck ever. for you to shit all over them just because you’re in a fucking hurry or too fucking selfcentered to realize that there are people outside of your fucking car that have people they love and care about too – that’s fucking, as my old drunk neighbor used to say incoherently, “thas fuckin horse hockey.”

so goiterneck with the fucking REEEEEEEE. HONK HONK HONK. STARE. when i find out where you live, im going to fucking send you every fucking piece of junk mail i can muster up.

im talkin the rascal.
the fucking valpack for vagina products only.
fucking publisher’s clearing house.
fucking sports illustrated under 77 names.

if you make a mistake, own up to it. if you scare someone’s kids, say you’re sorry.

but most of all.

STAY THE FUCK OFF MY LAWN YOU FUCKING SHAFTDODGERS!

granted, my balls are divine and filled with the sperm of the ancients, but regardless of their lineage and internet fame, may is usually the time when i am most fertile. wifey and i celebrate our wedding anniversary amidst our family’s craziest month of the year for us, today may 22nd. may holds her mom’s birthday, her dad’s birthday, her birthday, mother’s day, our anniversary and memorial day. because we always try to take a night away from everyone else around this time of year, we also manage to make babies around this time of year.

last year i tried this move where i held a summer sausage in my teeth and a vodka tonic in my left hand while humming the theme song to gummibears. SCORE! TWINS!

but not this year. no. no more. im pretty sure we’ve reached our quota on kin. while i see her dad with his two daughters and the gleam in his teeth (could be the mercury fillings *shrug*) when he takes his two daughters out, i will have to deal with one ruling princess and two brutes. so yes, that was an admission of happiness you cockflowers.

may 22nd.

six years ago she tied me down and im almost positive her constant pressure on my testicles is the reason they have their own float at the Macy’s thanksgiving parade this november.

my balls will be on regis & kelly next week to talk about flotation devices and testicle safety.

happy anniversary babe, i will talk about my huge balls for the rest of your life.

love,

hubs

i saw a cop i recognized at the gas station this morning. he nodded at me and i had that “where do i know that guy from?” moment where you get the pit in your stomach thinking that you owe the dude money, plus he’s carrying a gun, so im a potential corpse if i dont figure this out fast.