First there was a Man. Then a Woman. Then in quick succession, two cats, a confused dog beast, and two kids. I stay at home with them. I'm the Man

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Poetry Effluviatic

We're in the car the other day and I'm listening to the kids in the back. They are doing copious amounts of wet, sloppy, phlegmy raspberries into thin air. Over and over again. Little spit bombs exploding all over the backseat of the car. Then I hear the Peanut say "Pumpkin Man. Catch them! Catch them !"

I manage a glance over my shoulder, something I'm loathe to do as I really don't like to get involved back there. I hazard a glance and I see fine, fine sprays of saliva in the air, the kids hands clapping madly through it, trying to make a catch. Awesome.

"What are you doing?" I accuse. 

And the Peanut says, "Daddy, we're catching stars!"  I can't argue with that. 

Also, this is why I'm an atheist. Childhood turns spit into stars, and I'm supposed to be impressed by some half-assed water into wine trick? Please.

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For Father's day, my wife helped the kids bake me those hand prints and foot prints that you can harden in the oven and then paint.  They tasted awful. I ate three of them.  Because when my kids bake me something, I eat it, even when it's not really edible. Because that is the kind of father I am. 

This is why I deserve a Father's Day. I know it's bullshit. I know it's a holiday invented by an unholy triumvirate of Hallmark, Faberge, and super intelligent werewolves to get us all to buy cards and Brut. It's well known that werewolves love the taste of Brut.  It's science. 

I don't even need a card or much of a gift, really. I'm not asking for anything fancy. Like that ad for a Sprint Phone where the dad buys himself one on behalf of his baby daughter because he rationalizes that she'd want him to have it. Disgusting. And wasteful. The last thing I need is a new smartphone so I can ignore my kids. I can ignore my kids just fine with this laptop right here. Or a book. Or even just by curling up on the couch in the fetal position and closing my eyes until they go away.

My point being, I am an excellent dad. I'v earned a day in celebration of my fatherhood.  As contrived as it might be. I just want to go out for breakfast, that's all. Just go out for breakfast, come home, see them clean the house maybe. That's all. Breakfast, a clean house, and a pedicure. And a sixer of Newcastle. They can use the fake id's--that I got them for their birthdays, by the way--to buy it. 

Because whether it's a contrived holiday or not (and by the way, what constitutes a contrived holiday? Christmas and Easter are bizarre soups of pagan and christian traditions, Halloween is from Celtic pagans, Presidents' day falls on no day belonging to any President, and Groundhog day . . . actually, that one is pretty legit) we dads deserve a day. 

A day to celebrate those of us who are up to our elbows in the shit, literal or otherwise, everyday.  

Deadbeat Dad's day can be in August. Then when they show up to get their baked footprints, we nab'em!  



Happy Fathers Day

Homemaker Man


16 comments:

  1. Happy day, fellow dad. And ease off the throttle on the baked handprints. Wicked bad for the cholesterol.

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  2. Happy Daddy Day to you, too. Pedicure, eh? I too enjoy a good ol' foot cleaning as well. Not many men will openly admit to having their feet pampered, however. Good on you.

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  3. Oh I loved this post! Hugs to you, Homemaker Man--I know you are a wonderful Dad!

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  4. Amen. I feel the same way about Mother's Day. I earned it, dammit.

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  5. You deserve this day and so do I! *shutting down computer to go mow lawn*

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  6. Happy Father's Day to you and those who helped make you a father! Have you seen Steve Martin's hymnal for atheists song? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lFWA1A9XFi8&sns=fb

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  7. Good heaven, I love it when you return. Happy Father's Day. Today, I called my husband as he was on his way home from a morning spent toiling at church to ask him to go to the grocery store and pick up some potato chips and some bread because our kids had nothing to eat for lunch. When he happily returned home with said items, I ended up sitting on the couch a few seconds (read: minutes) longer than I could have, so he ended up up making the boys their lunch. Yesterday, I think he mowed the yard. All in all, I think my work here on this Father's Day is done.

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  8. 'Catching Stars' :) Love it!

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  9. Awesome. I grimaced through the first third, laughed through the second third, nodded through the third third and drooled a little during the fourth third. Happy phony-ass bullshit Father's Day! (I know I enjoyed the hell out of mine.)

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  10. Yes. A well-earned Father's Day indeed. Those plaster casts just give your digestive system something productive to do.

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  11. Here's hoping your kids never decide to bake you a shoe.

    Happy Father's Day, my man.

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  12. Going out to breakfast make ANY day a holiday! Athiest?? What happened to the Jewish lessons?

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  13. NOW it works. I'm beginning to hate Blogger immensely.

    In other news, thanks for the giggles. Breakfast out should be once a week. You're just that good a dad. (Yes, I'm prone to pandering.)

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  14. Man I should have held out for that sixer of Newcastle from Lukas. Would have been hard to top next year.

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  15. The blogger above (James) had said what I wanted to say... I'm nodding my head in agreement. :)

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  16. AHAU-Thanks Man. I take pills now.
    Diplo-You should hear about the other body parts I have pampered.
    Eva-Thanks Eva! I'll take'em!
    S.C. Speak it, sister.
    dbs-I took care of that shit the day before.
    Linda-Thanks. That was great.
    FADKOG Thanks! Mmmmm, Chip sandwich.
    KSK-She's got a way with words
    Beta Dad-Thanks Man! Same to you. Don't drool on my blog.
    DiPi. Thanks. Oy, the fiber.
    The Holmes-Thanks man. Eh, I'd eat it.
    Peg-I totally agree. I flunked. I flunked out of Jewish. Thanks for brining it up.
    Cheryl-That is what I'm talking about.
    James-never Settle!
    FG-Ok!

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