Grandmas Joke

My grandmother used to say in her sweet Irish Brogue “They’re all nuts, except for you and me.” Then after a pause she would add “ But I’m beginning to wonder about you.” Then she would laugh her head off.

Omitting the punch line, I must say, I think she was right. As I get older I realize more and more how everyone is crazy. Even the two people closest to me are without sanity.

BB is crazy.

She goes to Midnight screenings of movies about Vampires walking around in the daylight falling in love.

She watches and likes HGTV.

She thinks Lady Ga Ga is just OK.

She doesn’t sort the utensils out as she loads them in to the dishwasher even though it’s clearly the faster way to do it.

She only finds me funny when I’m not trying to be funny.

She’s getting more beautiful as she ages. That’s not only crazy, it’s also scary.

She works all day and then studies for her CPA exam through the night. After she cooks dinner. Also, after she puts Boy down for the night. Putting Boy down is probably the toughest part of her day.

She has seen me naked and never once has laughed.

She didn’t want or need an epidural.

She’s hardly ever on Facebook.

Let’s face it. She is clearly Koo Koo for Cocoa Puffs!!!

Boy too.

He may be crazier than her.

He waits until I am three whole blocks away before he reminds me “Door open Daddy.” Now I have to turn the car around and go all the way home to close the front door. I’ve told him a million times to remind me sooner.

The other day at the park he orchestrated about five other kids to change the tires on a plastic Hippopotamus. He then pretended to drive them around in it. Now, who ever heard of tires on a hippopotamus?

He pretends to pull off my nose and eat it.

He wants me to race him. Yet, if I start to pull ahead he says, “Wait for me Daddy!” Then at randomly selected places he stops and announces himself as the winner of the race.

He actually has said “No MORE Lady Ga Ga Daddy!” He put his foot down.

Poor kid. There is no hope for him.

I guess it is like Grandma said. I guess everyone is crazy except for her and I.

Wait, she used to eat grass.

hmph

Dirty Old Man?

We decided to buy Boy a new seat for the toilet. We really needed it for ourselves. You put yourself in far too vulnerable a position when you have an upstairs bathroom, a downstairs bathroom, ONE child potty seat and a toddler named Boy. We are very proud of how well he transitioned from the little portable potties to the little heiny toilet adjuster, but we were running up and down the stairs with it to accommodate the whims of his bowels and bladder. We were exhausted for crying out loud and something had to be done.

Target was our target. Early Saturday. The old get in and get the hell out with at least some money left in thy purse.

We packed light for speed and arrived at our target Target at tenish. Perfect. We chose this particular Target because it was the newest one and we like shiny new things as a family. In retrospect I see the potential downfalls of going to the new one. Being hypnotized by new sights and smells is a sure way to open sesame your wallet.

Beautiful Bride stayed focused while I wandered around aimlessly with Boy. Boy stumbled in to the tiny wee book section of the mammoth and took a real interest immediately. I looked over him proudly in the nearby cd section as he scoured the Dr. Seuses..es. Finally he emerged with his choice of tomb. “Disney’s: What is a Princess?” A journalistic slice of life that asks all your favorite Disney Princess Characters “Is a princess kind, loving and caring _ or is she much, much more?” I don’t go for these sort of books myself but I had to respect the time and effort he put in to deciding on this one.

Just then BB swooshed past our aisle with razor sharp focus. I at once grabbed Boy, Disney Princess book, the Lady Ga Ga cd and myself and ran in her direction.

We caught up with BB in the potty aisle of the toddler section. They had two mini butt seat adapters left. It must have been a busy week in this department. One was a Disney Princess cushy seat that was pink and designed with Tiaras, Carriages and Castles. The cheaper of the two was the standard Target brand plain blue one. The blue one was exactly like the one we already had at home which was perfect because with Boy you don’t want him to prefer one over the other, it would defeat the point of having two. Plus it was cheaper. As I reached for the blue one I heard BB ask Boy which one he wanted.

On the drive home I angrily and quietly lamented how we would inevitably be running this Disney Princess Potty up and down the stairs. Nothing will have changed, no quality of life improvement. The whole trip in vain. Grrr.

Well, at least I could still rock out to Ga Ga in between trips.

As it turns out, Boy is quite happy with the Disney Princess Potty in the downstairs bathroom and the plain blue potty in the upstairs bathroom. BBs’ parenting scores another home run. We are no longer lugging a peewee pooper seat up and down the stairs.

It’s the “Disney’s: What is a Princess?” book that we have to go up and down for because Boy has decided it is his bathroom reading book. Just like Daddy’s New Yorker Magazine. Grrr.

Now I watch him sit on the seat, with his pants at his tiny ankles, rifle through the pictures of these Princesses..es. It somehow reminds me of the Mensroom in my old neighborhood Barber Shop in Brooklyn and how they had Playboy Magazines in there. Oh No! Am I raising a dirty old man?

thoughts and kisses

I think about things too much. I conjure different scenarios both good and bad. It happens mostly when I am trying to sleep, but it can hit anywhere at anytime.

Sometimes I think...

am I good enough?

am I smart enough?

do people like me?

Sometimes I allow myself to secretly answer,

“no,

i'm not good enough.

i’m not smart enough.

no-one likes me.”

I accept the reality. I accept the doom. I accept the horrible fate. I allow it to swallow me up.

Sometimes I feel the spark that re-ignites the fire and burns the questions away.

I think about sex a lot.

I think about love a lot.

And verse visa.

I always knew when a relationship was over. The kisses became teeth clonking, nose banging realities.

I think about my Beautiful Bride a lot.

I accept that she will carry me when I need to be carried.

I will support her in the way she needs.

I will hear her.

I think that’s the best thing a boy can ever do for a girl. HEAR her.

I love her.

I love the everlasting quality of our kisses. Our kisses are magic. Her skin is my skin, my skin is her skin and our skin and our boy and our family and our dreams and our reality and our LIFE together.

It’s good to be back home.