Month: December 2015

Post Christmas 2015

Christmas break is when the kids really hit their stride. Fresh off of a two day high of snacks and presents and family being too busy to watch what they are into, they are in full Tony Montana mode. Snorting crushed life savers from a cardboard box that looks like a book. “I’m INVICIBLE!!” Shooting each other with Nerf arrows and standing on everything that is breakable/crushable. A rampage of sugar and making it rain with handfuls of tiny toys. An Atlanta night club where my youngest just screams a Little John inspired “YEAH” to every question. These kids are out of control.


Slowly breaking down the organized nature of presents.

I sit back on the couch unable to move from physical exhaustion and think. My god, if they ever win the lottery they will probably buy everyone in the trailer park an above ground inflatable pool and water their potted plants with Miller High Life. They give zero shits what you think. Hell my first kid had an involuntary mullet until she was three. She looked like the tow truck driver from Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle. My parenting is trending the wrong direction. I have to turn it around and make a strong showing in 2016.


Lady Bug has worn this helmet for 75% of all hours since Christmas morning.

Christmas is the perfect holiday to tee up the New Year’s resolutions.

Eat too much = Diet

Buy Kids Too Much = Manage Money and Plan

Buy a Pile of Gifts and all they want is for you to play with them = Vow to be a more involved parent.

A similar strategy to Mardi Gras before Lent. Except you don’t vow to stop drinking and having strange sex after Christmas is over. Although, I think last year I vowed to start drinking and have a vasectomy after our Christmas holiday. Ahhh, precious memories.

New Years is around the corner. I have some resolutions that I am considering:

1) Lose some weight. (I know right? It is time though and there are no food critical holidays for about a month)

2) Ride my bike from Santa Claus at least twice a week

3) Finish the book I have been incubating in my head. I am working on getting the story down and it is broken and can change still but progress is being made. Props to ConCru for pushing me. Or being liars and convincing me that I might could do something like this.

4) Make out with my smoking hot wife. Lots. This goals should be higher on the list actually. I’m not sure on the losing weight but I do want to make-out.

5) Help the girls finish some farm stories. They are stories written by children that might not be for sensitive children. I’m not sure it would sell but maybe. Their stories about how some animals die and others attack you might not get optioned by the Early Readers series. But you never know.

6) Oh yeah, we are also going to try and not kill any animals this year. My dog is old and might not make it but maybe a few months of relative calm will be helpful.

If you have some resolutions, this post is for you. You’re welcome. Leave me a resolution in the comments.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Christmas At The Lair

True story from earlier tonight:

She asked the oldest girl, “What do you want from Santa this year?” The oldest girl replied, “Nothing really, I’m just going to see what he brings me.” The second girl overhead the conversation and offered her Christmas wish, “I want a diary so I can write things.” The lady was surprised and asked, “Is that all?” They both shrugged and gave a look that said, “Pretty much.”

My kids are focusing on their zen this year. Good for them. I have really good girls and I know this. They are the best.

Meanwhile Supermom and I spent our time worrying if our efforts were enough. Did we spend the same on each child? Did we meet their every desire? Will these pictures look like we were adequate parents on Facebook?

To hear my kids don’t really have desire, beyond enjoying the magic of Christmas, makes me realize that the unmet desire is from me. I want them to be overwhelmed and surprised and over-the-moon with Christmas gifts. I want them to be awestruck. This day is the parenting Black Friday. The morning where we team with Santa and hope to atone for a year of being mediocre parents. We heap our shopping sacrifices at the evergreen altar and hope the gods smile upon us.

It’s 12:08 and we pulled it off again. In the morning the gods will rise and judge our tithe. I hope this shit works. I could use some brownie points in the parenting department. I feel empty and these kids love me from the outside in, trying to fill me up again. They are doing a good job but realizing who actually has the physical resource of “love” is tough for a man to swallow. I’m supposed to be a well-spring but I haven’t been lately.

Merry Christmas. If you are up past midnight and reading random blogs, this post is for you. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Meet Chickey Mouse

I’m not sure where this event started but it isn’t out of the ordinary for me to sit down with the girls and make up fun stories or draw crazy pictures. (Like the bear pooping in the woods.) Last night was the same and we started drawing puppets for the girls to put on a puppet show. The product was nothing short of creepy and awesome.

First, the girls brainstormed and wanted to make puppets to Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. I told them that it would be a copyright violation and that Disney doesn’t play so we should make another choice. Prima shouted out, “Chickey Mouse! Yay!”. I decided that it was time for a first lesson in the fine art of parody.



Pink avian mickey mouse zombie.

I don’t know what the bolt of awesomeness shooting out of his head is supposed to represent. He looks like an activated Manchurian Candidate. He brought out lots of laughs so we decided he needed a life mate…



Siamese Twins from a mad scientist’s lab.

Twinnie Mouse is a two-headed mouse with a dragon claw for a right hand and a metal coat hangar for her left. She also sports a horse tail and a cloven hoof. Good thing she has two red bows and a polka-dot dress or you might think she is the devil incarnate. The head on the right is the creepy special needs zombie mouse who stares at you with dead eyes. The head on the right is equally special but never shuts up and tries to talk with her coat hanger hand which is dangerous. We almost couldn’t breathe after creating Twinnie Mouse but the world demanded more awesomeness…



Just WTF?

It’s Sponge Bob’s quadriplegic half-brother who was fathered by the old creepy rat from The Secret of NIHM. Seriously look at the picture below.


Find me a female sponge with which to mate! 

I don’t know if he is an oracle, a poltergeist manifestation, or an malformed inbred rat-thing. Oh well… On to the next freaks of the Chickey Mouse Treehouse

DONALD TRUCK and his girlfriend LAZY DUCK


I was getting tired.


She is looking for corn or other seeds on the ground.



This is where I drew the line. We were low on oxygen from laughing too hard and drew a stalk of wheat with a head.

We didn’t get a chance to draw the magic flying portal of snacks, NOODLES. Or the over-sized dog the size of a planet which is still named Pluto.

For all of the people who don’t know Toodles, this post is for you. Remember it and when you have kids come back to enjoy it. For all you other saps, I have but one thought… Hot Dog Hot Dog Hot Diggity Dog We Got Ears Its Time For Cheers! You’re Welcome!

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Tiny Town

After a long day of shopping through swirling masses of people suffering from “holiday handicap” I like to come home and unwind. By unwind, I mean to treat my migraine and watch pointless television. Tonight I started with Tiny House Nation. A show that completely perplexes me. I get the allure of living in an efficient and compact place. Respecting your environment. Minimizing your carbon footprint… yada yada.

The entire house is often the size of my living room. Three or more people stand around for the entire episode honestly discussing living in a broom closet. I watch in amazement as no one ever asks the questions that I am thinking. Here is my list of questions for people who are looking into living in a tiny home.

  1. How do you plan to deal with your entire house smelling like shit after a night of take-out from Taco Bell? Two Double Stuffed Gorditas and some Cinatwists… loving that 134 square feet of hippie-ass closeness?
  2. Why don’t you just buy a truck with a camper top and shower at a truck stop?
  3. If the stove directly beneath you catches on fire, how fast can you get down from the loft bed? Follow-up question; Do you know how fast you can die from smoke inhalation?
  4. How do you get that mattress down to clean all the cracker and cookie crumbs out of it?
  5. Where will you put the DVD collection that you totally plan to watch but never get around to watching?
  6. Seriously, the only thing between you and your pooping partner is a plastic divider. Is your relationship and libido strong enough to survive the painful groans of dropping a very audible scat flavored deuce? You can hear the splash all the way in the kitchen. There is literally no escape. Think about that before your back your truck (which costs as much as the house) up to the hitch and pull away in your prison on wheels.

I can only imagine that a family of six, living in an apartment they can barely afford, want to stab you in the eyeball for worrying incessantly about your decision to spend $70k on 97 Square feet of mobile reconditioned barnwood. We consider sustainability in a home that is frequently relocated by nothing less than a Ford F350 Diesel. Meanhwile in Africa some communities living in mud houses and burn dried feces to boil water. This is why other countries hate us.

I need a show that features a week in the life of these couples about a year into their decision. Statistics say 60% are divorced and 40% are stabbed to death on Taco Tuesday.

If you dream of a tiny house, this post is for you. Answer those questions for me.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Big Dads Dont Cry

Tonight was a tough one. It started with Toby abandoning the will to live and convulsing in what is known as “death throes”. I was talking to Supermom on the phone on my drive home and she went into a blubbering panic about holding our dying pet in her arms. She pleaded for me to “hurry home” and “help me” but I was sitting in traffic. He died before I got there.

I know he was a pet. I know he belonged to a group of animals that seem to welcome death with open arms. Animals aren’t people. Those facts didn’t stop me from being upset. Sometimes animals feel like people. They have personality and give affection. They become a part of our lives. Then they die a violent death in the middle of your king sized bed.

I felt guilty about crying. Like it was silly for a dad to cry about a pet. Then my girls noticed and asked me a question.

“Daddy, Are you crying?”

“Yes honey. Daddy is sad.”

“Do boys cry?”

“Of course. Boys get sad just like girls and some cry…the strong ones do anyway. It is okay to cry.” Then they joined me in a hug and we worked through our sad moment together.

Our society works hard to project the image of the stoic male, holding his head high while his females sob at his feet. He is unaffected by their petty tears. He knows that life is hard. Rub some dirt in it. Shake it off. There is no crying in baseball.

I don’t want to ever be that guy. I don’t want to be that kind of dad.

I want to be strong when needed but I have learned to not fight my tears. Tears are how the soul waves at the things it loves. My soul loves lots of things.

I have decide to not feel guilty for loving things or showing that I do. It is a waste of time.

If you are a big boy or girl and you totally cry sometimes, this post is for you. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.