An official apology from The Management

You’re probably going to want to buy some balloons to commemorate this very rare and momentous occasion.

I’m about to issue an official public apology for my most recent post. Because there hasn’t been one. I created this site and went completely AWOL, leaving you craving more and more delicious insight from the world of full-time fatherhood without any means of scoring a fix.

So here goes:

I am very, truly sorry that I continue to be such an amazing father and husband that those two jobs take precedence over everything else in the world — including this blog. I am further sorry that my priorities are so incredibly in order that I deem anything that doesn’t better the lives of my kids and wife to be trivial and, thus, unnecessary. I am further sorry that, at times, I am accused of being far too handsome; that when I sing, the most glorious songbirds become envious and often vengeful; that for a large portion of my life I have discovered that I am just too amazing for my own good. I promise to update this site on a more regular basis and to use my powers for the further good of all people.

Yep, that should suffice.

Brand new post tomorrow! I promise.**

** - All promises are subject for regular review by The Management, may be ridiculously altered and, at any time, for any reason, immediately cancelled and laughed about — hysterically, and if necessary, in an evil manner.


Buttering up for more dairy

JACK: Dad, can you get me some more milk?
ME: Sure thing, dude.
JACK: Thanks! You sure are getting really good at getting me more milk.

There are those for whom parenting requires little to no thought, worry, responsibility or work. They are exceedingly terrible at the job.

The fable of the table

I impart unto you the following fable, young grasshopper, to warn you of the perils of heading toward life’s many little battles unprepared.

It was many moons ago (Friday to be exact) when a young(ish) man and his wife found themselves too lazy to fix a simple sandwich for dinner on a Friday evening. After much indecisiveness and fretting, they decided to trek out into the city to find a meal suitable for them and their two children.

Along their journey, they passed by the palace where the Burger King presides over his big, fat flame-broiled kingdom. Ignoring the pleas of their son, they also quickly bypassed the home of the creepy orange-haired pedo clown where each meal presented to innocent young children comes complete with jewelry in the shape of an insipid mythical ogre (subject to change).

Right before they nearly expired from exhaustion and starvation, the road-weary travelers spotted a beacon of hope: a sign in the distance that read ‘KINJA’.

Read More


Week 2: The other side of tired

"Daddy," he whispered into my ear, long before I was prepared to hear human voices that morning — no matter how tiny, squeaky and utterly adorkable.

"Urmpfh," I groaned, looking at the clock and reading 6:05 glaring right back into my ugly, morning-breath-havin’ face. "Jack, it’s still bedtime. Sleep."

The silence lasted all of 30 seconds.

"Daddy," he whispered again, twirling his fingers in my hair — a mess of Dad hair that had been long forgotten by a caring pair of scissors. To call it mangled nap would be an insult to homeless folk the world over.

"Jack, you have to be quiet and go back to sleep," I pleaded. "Please? Daddy is sooooo tired." A touch dramatic, but I figured I was entitled after the many sleepless nights — and days, mind you — I had been facing head-on for more than a couple weeks. (Not to mention the missed sleep of the past few months.)

The room fell silent once again, albeit momentarily.

Read More


Behold, the power of advertising The Cheese

ME: Jack, Mommy and I think we know what to do for your birthday.
JACK: What, Daddy? What?
ME: We think we should go to Chuck E. Cheese.
JACK: Yay! Chuck E. Cheese!
ME: Won't that be fun?!
JACK: Yeah! It's where a kid can be a kid!

There’s no substitute for guts.
Bear Bryant

Day 4: A regular zoo

I’ve always followed a simple recipe for overcoming fear — a dash of bravery sprinkled atop a heaping bowl of stupid.

It’s actually a secret family recipe, passed down through the generations. After trying to keep it undisclosed for centuries, we gave up when we all finally realized you could read it in our beady little eyes just as though it had been written on index cards and passed around at a Pampered Chef party.

I had a heaping helping of this splendid little dish today when I decided to head to the local zoo. Knowing how little sanity I still owned after several days of being trapped in the house, I decided we’d go cough up some dough for season passes and make a quick stroll through. It certainly couldn’t make me feel any MORE insane, now could it? (Answer: In retrospect, it probably could have.)

Read More



There are absolutely no words to adequately describe how pleased I am with this caricature, drawn by one of my best friends ever, Aaron Wade. I am amazed by this portrait on so many different levels — but especially in just how perfectly it captures this new adventure for our family.
Aaron, you are a keeper of a friend, an amazingly talented artist, a fantastic writer, and — most importantly — a heckuva dad. Thank you, friend. Family portraits on me, buddy.
NOTE: Aaron was commissioned by me to draw this caricature and it turned out 100 times better than I imagined. The intent was to use it as the main header art, but I’m having a really hard time figuring out how to get that done. Once I have a couple seconds, I’ll get it ironed out.

There are absolutely no words to adequately describe how pleased I am with this caricature, drawn by one of my best friends ever, Aaron Wade. I am amazed by this portrait on so many different levels — but especially in just how perfectly it captures this new adventure for our family.

Aaron, you are a keeper of a friend, an amazingly talented artist, a fantastic writer, and — most importantly — a heckuva dad. Thank you, friend. Family portraits on me, buddy.

NOTE: Aaron was commissioned by me to draw this caricature and it turned out 100 times better than I imagined. The intent was to use it as the main header art, but I’m having a really hard time figuring out how to get that done. Once I have a couple seconds, I’ll get it ironed out.


Choosy moms choose Jif. Choosy dads need something with a little more kick.

Days 2 & 3: Some stray observations

  • My kids need a solid routine, but I’m pretty sure I need it even more.
  • We got up before the sun yesterday (the second day of my new job as an official Baby Appeaser) and Ellison was beyond inconsolable. Poor child wanted NEEDED to be held, indefinitely, until further notice. (I can only assume said notice would come in the form of men in lab coats hauling me off in a specially-fitted white jacket.) After FINALLY getting her to sleep, I snuck off on a stealth mission to the shower. Halfway through washing the creeping insanity and stinky man sweat down the drain, I was interrupted by my little screaming banshee and water so cold I thought my man parts…

Read More


Scooby Dooby Wha?

JACK: Dad, what's your favorite on Scooby Doo?
ME: I'm not sure I understand your question.
JACK: What's your favorite thing on Scooby Doo?
ME: I like Shaggy. He's pretty funny.
JACK: Whoa. I did NOT see that comin'.

Real men have no qualms about carrying pink diaper bags.

Day 1: My inspiration comes from the spawn of destiny

On one hand, there is coincidence.

On the other hand, there is DESTINY.

And in sequined, gold lamé leotards designed specifically for the brand of epic hip-poppin’ and booty-shakin’ that would make Elvis Presley slap his cold-and-grey-Chicago-mornin’-givin’-birth-to-a-poor-little-baby-child-in-the-ghetto mama, there are the three members of Destiny’s Child.

You might think the now-defunct lady-power pop group Destiny’s Child should have nothing whatsoever to do with my first day of playing ‘spouse of the house’. On any other day, I’d readily and gladly agree with you.

We’d both be wrong.

Read More