MarriedandWhatnot

Most of my buddies know I have an affinity for Kung-Fu / martial arts flicks. My ex-bro-in-law was in the Navy and had a closet full of tapes he acquired from overseas. I’d visit their home when I was younger and sit there watching all types of dubbed martial arts flicks. Of course he had recognizable names like Bruce Lee & Jackie Chan, but I liked the older joints with subtitles. I am not really a fan of Crouching Tiger, but prefer the cult classics like 5 Deadly Venoms, Wu-Tang Clan collection, Shaolin Monk flicks, White Lotus and most of Jet Li’s older movies (e.g. The Tai Chi Master).

A few years ago, one of my friends was in a mood to give a thoughtful gift, so he bought me a Samurai Sword letter opener. I recently located this in an old tote, and nested it on my computer desk behind the monitor and the blue lava lamp from college (yes I said lava lamp, don’t hate).

Last night I am on my pc trying to design a campaign poster for my oldest son. Midway into my design session, the 5yr old (#3) walked in and said, “Daddy can I sit on your lap while you do your work?” Usually annoyed by his persistence, I was amused by his smile so I obliged.

I have to pause here to tell you this brief story. A couple nights ago my office looked like a hurricane aftermath. Children’s school papers, bills, junk mail, magazines, weights, CDs, hats, routers…I mean it was a mess. I waited until everyone was sleep and began cleaning. In the midst of tearing envelopes without looking at the contents, in walks my 5yr old to talk my head off. He starts drawing letters and pictures on some scrap paper (which I now discover was an important bill) then out the blue he blurts out, “And Daddy, sometimes when everyone goes to sleep I am up by myself and I sometimes get scared because I hear noises and I cover my head with the sheet and go to sleep.”

Mind you this kids imagination trumps mine on a good day and he starts every sentence with – and Daddy. I respond to the little peanut head child, “You’re not scared so stop saying that. It is nothing but the ice maker.”

He draws a bit more then continues his thought, “And Daddy sometimes when I go to sleep I have nightmares about the big KingKongGorillaMonster coming to get me and the KingKongGorillaMonster is bad and I don’t want the KingKongGorillaMonster to get me so I tell it to leave me alone.”

He said that sentence with at least 12 more words added and without taking a single breath. And yes, KingKongGorillaMonster is all one word. All I could do was laugh.

Back to last night. I am designing stuff for my oldest while little Picasso is busy vandalizing our electric bill with graffiti. In the middle of his artistic expression, he discovers the letter opener which has been sitting there for several months now. I immediately think (censored) – Oh Lord, I need to go hide that joker now before he cuts his brother. As a parent, and especially one with all boys, your brain visualizes the absolute worst case scenario. I mean sometimes these visualizations have the equivalent over-the-top blood splatter of a Kill Bill movie. Anything from them falling through the patio glass head first, to getting their hands chopped off in the garbage disposal. Or maybe them throwing a football into the street, a car slamming on the brakes, flipping ten times while taking out two squirrels until it explodes at the end of our cul-de-sac sending up a mushroom cloud of smoke. Then we’d get sued for everything we have by the homeowners association as well as the family of the driver and up selling all our furniture on Craig’s List just to make ends meat. I guess that’s why I have so many grey hairs stressing and fussing and making sure they are safe and don’t do stupid things (like I did when I was younger). I always thought I’d be a cool Dad, and I am to a certain extent, but as a daddy you find yourself constantly scolding them from running in the house and jumping off furniture, to wrestling moves and body punches they deliver.

So #3 pulls this beautifully crafted Samurai sword it out the sheath and I swear it made the “sha-ching” sound just like the Kung-Fu flicks. He gently placed it back, and withdrew it once more admiring his reflection in the blade. At this point I am at that bad parenting place where it is late, you are tired, and don’t have the energy to fuss. I figured I’d let him play with it for a second, then hide it in my closet never to be seen again. In my purgatory state of good parenting (helping one son with school) and bad parenting (ignoring the other) I lean forward and don’t you know that pointed lil bastard of a sword almost sliced my nose. I immediately grabbed and put it up before my nasal septum resembled Amy Winehouse.

I sat there thinking what would have happened if he really cut me? Imagine me going to work the next day with a band-aid holding that little flap of nose together. My co-workers asking me what happened and me responding, “Oh nothing serious. I just got my nose sliced by a KingKongGorillaMonster dreaming 5-yr old toting a mini Samurai Sword.”

My wife just had our 5th son, so I have been trying to help out around the house as much as I can (insert sympathy here).  Washing clothes, cleaning, cooking…whatever I can so that she can heal. My employer was nice enough to allow me to work from home this week and I don’t have a problem doing any of these things for my wife, but hell…these kids are driving me insane.

Our baby is really good. Him a cute lil thing (funny how babies make you talk silly). He is a really good baby that just wants to be fed, changed and held. But heck, who doesn’t? He is not the problem…it is the others. We give our children ALL crazy attention, and they really love the baby and spoil him. It is just the normal brother wrestling, fighting, annoying each other thing.

My brain is too much ooze to recall all the events from yesterday, let’s just say I woke up trying to rush to others off to school. Oldest two can get up, make themselves oatmeal, it is all gravy. Youngest two are a different story. Them and my wife started throwing shoes and remotes at me telling me to cook or else. I had to manage that, in-between taking calls at work (seemed like my Blackberry would not shut the hell up). I am cleaning the kitchen trying to cook and bam…out of Cascade. Of course my pre-historic brain wouldn’t remotely think of hand washing all this stuff. In my household due to the size, one meal could employ a small cleaning staff. I worked around it and prepared a nice size breakfast (yes I can get down when needbe).  My 2-yr old lil terrorist said, “Ummm” which made me feel a tad bit better. Like hell at least he is enjoying it.

Had a couple meetings they made me dial into, constant calls, steady work…meanwhile kids fighting in the tub, diapers leaking, spilled milk on the carpet…just one thing after a freaken other. I am on a conference call with my BB on speaker answering questions when they called my name and I was paying no attention…meanwhile I am simoutaneously rubbing lotion on my 2 year olds butt (fresh out the tub).  Meeting ended and did a little bit more work, cleaned my office a little bit while joking around with the mrs (I swear I need to get snipped asap before we end up with a #6), then took a quick shower. Had to run to the store to get some items for dinner and more importantly dish detergent. Rushed home before the older two got in, then almost ran this guy off the road a block from home daydreaming about all I need to do before days end. Guy pulls in front of my house right behind me, so I am thinking aw hell…wrong day bruh. Well this wasn’t a road rage incident, but a nice surprise. Guys at work bought my wife one of those edible fruit arrangements. Come put it on the table while I bring the rest of the groceries in. Two little ones surround it and stare like there are leo diamonds inside. Smallest keeps asking for an apple…which was his way of saying ‘pineapple.’

Fast forward. Guy I used to coach with was going to pay for some tickets for us to see his son play (spring football). My schedule was already stacked, and I had two reports that my mgr asked me for earlier that day. I had to throw a stall tactic telling him I would have in his inbox first thing in the am. In the meantime I had to prepare dinner, get the kids dressed…oh and did I mention I had to register #3 for kindergarten?

We eat, I take #3 to school and get hit with…not exaggerating…44 million questions from this kid – So will I start school tomorrow? Where is my bus? What am I going to do? This school thing confuses me. What will I be doing? So I start school next week then? Will I see my teacher? I mean literally this went on for the hour we were there. This is the most inquisitive child ever. By this time in the day my brain was slowly seeping out my ears. I could just ear my wife chuckle from miles away as she sent me off with this folder of birth certificates and shot records to register him. I should have known from the smirk on her face.

I walk in there, and I swear kids were swarming like red ants; coughing, sneezing, no hands covering their mouths all shapes and sizes red ants. Seemed like every other woman was pregnant too. Yes, we get down in TX We go in, and they give us this packet to complete. Went over to a kids lunch table to begin filling out this stack of papers longer than a mortgage application. I am immediately pissed because I absolutely HATE writing (I type everything). Looking at the clock trying to time how long it will take and if we will make it to the game on time. I look at these forms and between the noise and my hand cramping, I felt like kicking one of these kids square in the their shirt logo…with soft clown shoes on of course. I rushed through, took over to another table to get his shot records validated, then stood in another long line to turn everything in. I am sitting here like a retard hearing my wife’s voice in my head scold me about not letting them keep the originals and to make copies…trying to remember all this stuff  so I don’t get my tail reamed later in the midst of 200 screaming kids whose parents apparently have discovered some way to mute the volume and ignore them.

Copies were made, and I can say this part of the day was my favorite. I walked my son around the school and showed him his brothers lockers. Ended up running into some teachers who knew my oldest son and each one glowed and went on and on about how sweet he was. Parenting is a duanting task and sometimes you think what is the point? You are not listening anyway. You win you little booger! Then you have someone rant and rave about your children and it makes you feel good. Like well at least something stuck.

We left, went home to pick up 1, 2 & 3 then headed to the game. Felt it would be a nice detox and a way for mrs to get some rest while we were gone. I call my buddy to get directions. He bluntly told me, but I must have processed wrong. I was driving about 10 miles in the wrong direction. Good thing he called me because I was headed towards another city. We finally make it and besides my smallest one putting his hands on the steps then attempting to suck his finger minutes later, my kids were pretty good. We watched this other team whip on his team, but it was good to get out and get some fresh air. We also got to see a nice campus. Texas football stadiums are no joke!!

After making all the kids wash their hands thoroughly, king of the plum plum pickers made all the kids clean the house prior to taking a bath. Baby (nickname for #4) kept asking for apple, so after they cleaned for a while I pulled her arrangement out the fridge and gave them some skewers. As soon as I pulled off a strawberry or pineapple for one of the others, baby would have his hand out like he wanted another. I looked and noticed he didn’t have anything on his napkin, and realized this little monkey was eating the entire strawberry…leaf and all. I sat and watched him plop the entire thing in his mouth. I couldn’t do anything but laugh. My oldest (who talks just as much as #3) started telling me about this kid he goes to school with whose father eats orange peels. Guess my kid is not that strange after all.

I fell into the recliner and felt my ankles swelling. I am sitting here like what the hell? Am I growing breasts? I am all tired and feel like crying and complaining. Is 2% milk coming out this joker? I didn’t squeeze to check, but my goodness. My wife deserves a salary for all she does. This Mr. Mom crap is out of control. I can do the cleaning because I am a dictator and make the kids do it. Besides mothers tend to be control freaks and daddy’s have to come behind and cut the cord. They need to know how to clean up. I had these boys scrubbing their bathroom the other day. I REFUSE to clean that crap. The cooking part is what annoys me. Seems like they eat every freaken 2 hours. Where do they put all that food? Then there are the little things. Baby (#4) always asking for purple (his way of saying grape Kool-aid) and the other asking for stuff ALL DAY LONG – Daddy can I get on the big computer? Daddy can I have fruit snacks? Daddy purple? Daddy I pee-pee. Daddy he hit me. Daddy can we go to the park? Daddy you going to work? Daddy can I hold baby? Daddy how to you spell pizza party pick-up? Daddy do we have to take the baby back to the doctor?

Safe to say I have an pretty normal day. I at least had the foresight to set my alarm for midnight because I knew I would pass out watching the Cavs smash ATL and I needed to turn those reports in (which are time consuming). I have always said that jobs I worked that are mentally strenuous take a bigger toll on you than jobs requiring physical exertion. I could argue that a call center job in a lot of ways is tougher than a construction job (worked both as a teen). Being a stay at home mom/dad is mentally exhausting. I was on messenger with my dude Juggernaut earlier, and I told him the kids had me sitting at my computer desk fresh out a shower half naked…taking breaks standing in front of the window staring out at the lawn while drinking herbal tea with one hand on my waist trying to remember if I put deodorant on or not. My mind was so far gone, I just can’t remember if I had a towel on or not.