Month: October 2015

Proof Positive

“Better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and prove it.” Wise words.

Well never fear. Supermom and I “opened our mouth” and proved it. Fair warning, I laughed about this for an unreasonable amount of time. Where to begin?

Okay well, here goes. So this one night we are trying desperately to get everyone headed in the right direction. I got home late from work. We needed one or two ingredients for dinner from the store so we didn’t eat until late. The kids smeared their bodies in some sort of tomato based grease from dinner so we had to take baths. After baths we discovered that the girls had made a tent upstairs from their blankets and pillows. I trudged upstairs and recovered blankets and pillows. .

We go through the usual routine of “Daddy I need an extra hug” and “Daddy… Say something funny.” Finally the kids go to sleep about an hour past bedtime. Supermom and I felt like our day had been rushed out from under us and we had to stay up late to wash a load of clothes so the older two would have something to wear to school.

Close to midnight and Jane wakes up and comes into our room. She has super red eyes and a stuffy nose. Turns out the dog had taken a nap on her pillow inside the blanket fort. Jane is allergic to pet dander. I know. I know. A million pets probably isn’t the best solution. Anyway, we dose her up with Benadryl and send her back to bed. The clothes finished drying a little after midnight. We left them in the dryer because we didn’t confirm they were done, we just listened for the buzzer to go off so we could be reasonably comfortable that the house wouldn’t burn down. Then we went directly to sleep.

I woke to birds chirping and a senile dog snoring at the end of my bed. I felt rested but something seemed out of place. Then I noticed the clock. 7:15. Oh shit. We had thirty minutes to get ready for school and work and no one was awake yet. I had forgotten the alarm clock.

What followed was an amazing display of leadership skills powered by adrenaline.

Everyone up and at’em. Little Debbie cakes for breakfast. Brush teeth. Get dressed. “Don’t worry about those wrinkles, they will stretch out and by lunchtime you wont even notice.” Brush hair. Prima’s hair was a huge mess because she went to bed with wet hair and we didn’t make time to blow dry it. Oh well. These things happen.

Jane is about halfway through her antihistamine induced haze. It takes a while for Benadryl to work out of their system but she couldn’t breathe the night before so I stand by the decision. She slumbered to the car like a zombie. I’m not sure how she didn’t walk into a wall or trip over toys. Her eyes were pretty much shut. At least she was dressed and had her backpack. I glanced at my watch (clock on my phone) and amazingly we are all on-time.


Then Prima’s eyes light up. She says, “Ohhh I’m so excited for school today!”

“Oh why is that?”

“It’s school picture day!”

Oh.My.God. Too late to change it now.

Prima thought, "Nailed It" a second too soon. Jane is still high. Which box should I check?

Prima thought, “Nailed It” a second too soon. Jane is still high. Which box should I check?

Fast forward to today. I walked into the house and saw the photos sitting on the desk. The funniest part is they said PROOF. I guess that is about right. Undeniable proof that we totally forgot about picture day. I promise we are better parents than this, only I’m not sure when.

For anyone who feels like a failure and occasionally gets some “PROOF”, this post is for you. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Do We Become Our Pets

Have you ever seen someone walking a dog and thought, “Wow, pets really do match their owners.”? I have on several occasions. Check out some pictures of dogs and their owners.


Creepy right? Funny too, but creepy.

That makes me wonder if the phenomenon applies to all pets. Which pet do I favor?

Is it the dog, Biscuit?


I don’t wear diapers but I do have to pee a lot. I assume it is because I drink lots of water but maybe I am sympathizing. I have selective hearing and I am getting some grey in my hair. I want to lay around but am nervous that something will pounce on me. Hmmm.

Maybe I am more like the cat?


I like to snuggle up to Supermom because she is warm. I clunk around late at night and knock things over. I also prefer my bathroom time to be private time, which is something that only the cat can relate to. I can’t pay these people to shut a freaking door. And for God’s sake, flush the toilet!

No. I don’t think I am exactly like the cat either. Maybe the wallaby.

While I do have several stories about how I am an idiot, this guy is actually stupid. I refuse to think I am anything like the wallaby.

They are dumb as a box of rocks. I don’t know how wallabies have evaded natural selection for so long. Check out this picture.


He sees his reflection in the door and engages in a fight for dominance. FOR. HOURS. Other times he thinks the glass is a portal to another world. Like the brick wall that leads to the Hogwarts Train, he hops at normal speed and plows into it face first. Five minutes later… same thing.

He also has no control over his urges because we haven’t chopped off his man-berries yet. Poor yellow-dog. He has endured things that no stuffed animal should have to suffer. Yellow dog is part of Toby’s harem of stuffed animals and pillows. As he hops through his kingdom he might decide to stop and have an afternoon delight at any moment. Definitely not a leisure that I enjoy but then again he isn’t married. Just to be clear and not totally weird, I meant afternoon sex and not the leisure of humping stuffed animals. You know what… nevermind. Moving on.

Toby also eats crayons. He searches them out from the couch cushions, under the edge of the recliner, and from various nooks and crannies around the house. If you don’t catch him immediately, he will plow through the whole crayon like a wood chipper. There will be a few pieces of paper from the wrapper and some oddly colored poo balls in a few days. He likes chalk too. I can see chalk for mineral deficiency or whatnot but who is short on wax? I am waiting on the day I have to explain to a vet that he died from a 64 pack of crayolas.

DR: “What happened?”

ME: “He overdosed on Burnt Umber.”

DR: “Tragic. We need more awareness for Obsessive Wallaby Crayonitis, O.W.C. is a real problem.”

ME: “Yep.”

Stupid wallaby.

If you ever wonder what your pets might be saying about you, this post is for you. Apparently mine say I’m incontinent, I vomit hairballs, and I walk into solid surfaces expecting to magically pass right through. You’re welcome.

Tell me about your pet and what they say about you. I am curious.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Jane Was Attacked

It is the sound that every parent hates to hear; the actual real-life scream. A genuine wail of terror from your child.

A few weeks ago we were at Mamaw’s house and Jane was excited to show off her new sheep. The sheep, a lamb at the moment, was in the pen with the goats near the back of the farm. There is a gate at the edge of the backyard that leads to the goat pasture and the goats were hanging out in the woods beyond the chicken house. Jane asked if she could go and catch her lamb to show it off to us. Supermom and I agreed.

Toby had made the visit to Mamaw’s house and he was hopping around the back bedroom. Doing something stupid like chewing old wires or trying to jump in a toilet. I walked to the back of the house and just as I was picking him up I heard the screaming. A panicked scream from Jane. No words, just a shrill scream that didn’t stop. I could hear Supermom yelling, “What is it?!? What is wrong!”

The only response was more screaming. Everyone in the house rushed to the back door in a frantic curiosity. My heart was in my chest and I played out dire scenarios in my mind.

A Grizzly Bear was chasing her through the field. An anaconda was swallowing her whole. She was caught in a flash brush fire. A masked assailant had jumped out of the bushes and was stabbing her with an ice pick in slow motion.

Supermom shouted directions at her, “Slow down! Calm down! You are going to hurt yourself!”

These small clues helped my panic. She obviously wasn’t in a fatal scenario. Supermom is asking her to calm down. I heard metal clanging and a thump of something hitting the ground. Jane continued to scream. I made it to the backdoor and surveyed the scene.

Jane was laying on her side in the backyard about ten feet from the four foot tall gate to the goat pen. She was missing one boot and tears were streaked down her face. I couldn’t see a bear or a puma so I assumed predators were not the problem. I raced out the door and down the hill. Jane could barely talk through the heaving sobs. When she finally got enough composure to speak it was only a few words, “Mean… Guinea’s…”


Apparently a small grey flightless bird was the cause of all this commotion. It had recently hatched about fifteen eggs and was protecting the young by flapping wings at squawking at Jane. She thought it was trying to murder her and she ran faster than most Olympic sprinters. She is only eight years old and a good two inches shorter than the gate to the goat pen. That didn’t matter because she ran vertically up the gate and once she was at the top she did a swan dive towards the house, like the grass was an ocean and she was swimming to safety.

I thought I would wet myself from laughing. The fact that a three pound bird had scared a fifty pound kid out of her mind was hilarious. I know the terror had to be real but it was just SO DAMN FUNNY.

My father tells me that I reacted in a similar way to a German Shephard when I was about six. I run slower than most people walk so hearing I outran any dog seems like a tall tale. I wish I had been awesome enough to run out of my shoes and achieve short term flight. Jane is my hero.

If you have trouble showing concern because you laugh until you cant breathe, this post is for you. We probably won’t win parent of the year. Oh well. You’re welcome.

Underdaddy to the rescue.

Edge of the Cliff Notes

Fun Conversations

Jane: Can we have a balloon?
Underdaddy: No. You will pop it in two seconds and then you will leave the plastic in the floor. Toby will eat the plastic and die. Then I will have to bury him in the backyard and I don’t feel like digging a hole right now.
Jane: You could bury him tomorrow.
Underdaddy: I think you missed my point.

Still looking like a smug asshole. Fetch me a soda water peasant.

Still looking like a Caesar of the household. Fetch me a soda water peasant.

Underdaddy: Supermom… What do you know about this little plastic pony?
Supermom: (from the bedroom) What pony?
Underdaddy: The one with the turd on it. In the cat’s water bowl.
Supermom: That isn’t the cat’s water bowl.
Underdaddy: So you know about the pony?
Supermom: No. I just know the cat uses Biscuit’s bowl for water.
Underdaddy: Nevermind.


Underdaddy: Threeto! Stop licking everything. Jesus.
Threeto: What can I lick?
Underdaddy: Nothing! Maybe a lollipop but even that is sort of frivolous… (Looks at Prima digging at her wedgie) Prima! Get your hand out of your pants.
Supermom: *giggles and posts to Facebook*

Prima: Daddy can we paint?

Underdaddy: No you never clean up the mess.
Prima: We will this time.
Underdaddy: You never do. You can’t go backwards, you have to do good first.
Prima: Not if you let us…

Fun Discoveries

There are worse things to step on than Legos. We have a battery powered Tea Light that could double as a road spike for law enforcement. I could run a rope through my foot and audition as Pinocchio on broadway. “OOOOOHHHH, I got no strings to hold me down, to lift me up, to make me frown, I had strings but you can see, I got no strings on me.” Nice right?

Tea Light

Kids are total suckers for magician-style misdirection. They are still confused how I can make balloons change colors. Basically I hold one balloon way up in the air while doing whatever I want with my other hand. I could thumb wrestle, play piano, or grab another color of balloon and stick it in my back pocket.

My oldest child can fly. More on that later…

Oh yeah. Cat vomit is super slippery. I wonder if NASA knows about the lubricant properties of cat vomit. It might be useful in zero gravity space tools.

While I do plan to write the story of how Jane learned to fly, I haven’t exactly had time to write much lately. If life bogs you down and you only have time to put together the Cliff Notes, this post is for you. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Mom and Dad by Jane

Today I woke up to a pleasant surprise. There was a tray table fully set with a Little Debbie Oatmeal Cream Pie, a rock, a pencil, half an Easter egg, a bottle of water, and a beautiful story written for me. The three older girls collaborated on a morning surprise. For all the stories I tell that sound like literary birth control, this is part of the vast ocean of rewards that parents get from having children. Every now and then, they just want to love on you.

This is my excellent story.

Once upon a time there was a boy named David. He was really funny.

One day he saw a beautiful girl named Heather. She had black hair and brown eyes. David thought that she was really, really pretty so he talked to her. They went on they became boyfriend and girlfriend. Then they got married. They got a dog and a cat. The cat’s name is Madison. The dog’s name is Biscuit.

Then Heather had a kid named Jane. Then another named Prima. Then a kid named Don Threeto. Then another kid named Lady Bug. After that she got a wallaby. His name is Toby Dashnap Blackwood.

That is one story.

I wonder how long I should wait to let them read the real story?


-Underdaddy to the rescue.