So this post is over a week late, but this was officially when I realized how overwhelmed I’ll be for another 16 years 5 months and 14 days until the youngest boy is emancipated. Every day, it was an activity, or a conference, or an activity and a conference simultaneously, and we don’t even have three fully in the game yet. Anyway, that context was just to explain the tardiness of this post. So at my family Thanksgiving we went around, and of course said what we were thankful for. The toasts were beautiful and included the usuals of health, family, etc. And I am quite thankful for those as well, but who wants to read or write about that. Plus, I’ve been getting shit from a few friends (yes, I’m calling you out Brett, Jordan, and Pat) that these blogs serve to deify my wife, and so there will be none of that in this post. And while these things may seem trivial to you, they bring me comfort, happiness, and in one case, help me retain an ounce of dignity. So here they are!
Trash and recycling night:
I know, sounds strange doesn’t it. And for me, it’s not like I’m Jermaine from Flight of the Conchords where recycling night = business time. It’s that this 10-15 minute experience is my solace. I milk our flag lot house for all its worth, conveniently timing the trip to coincide with bathtub time and the final brutal minutes of the witching hour. Yup, that’s 3 days a week (trash is twice), that me, a podcast, and our refuse walk in slo-mo, to take the 100 yard plunge down the driveway. Then I repeat, over, and over. Yes, this is what I’m thankful for.
Man, during football season, I’m like in another zone on Sunday, and forget it, if I have guys playing on Thursday and/or Monday, that gives me three days of football to look forward to. And then you have the excitement of the waiver wire on Tuesday night and early morning pickups on Wednesday. That’s a full week of articles, number crunching, and dorking out. It’s blissful. For a guy who grew up collecting baseball cards and studying batting averages, I’m like a pig in shit.
There’s no shame, I’m addicted to it. In fact, right now, I’m listening to white noise via a baby monitor and those soothing sounds have my fingers popping. On those days when it’s my turn to sleep in, as soon as the door closes and Emily is in charge, white noise is on, and I pass the fuck out. Stationed near an elevator at a hotel? No problem. I’ve got rain on car. Trouble sleeping on vacation in a tropical location? How about a little ocean waves action.
Whether it’s The Pentatonix, Sesame Street collaborations, or even videos of people opening up Pokemon cards, YouTube has something for everyone. And I leverage that shit every day. Have you seen Hallelujah or the Daft Punk Medley by the Pentatonix or the One Direction song about the letter u? See, that’s 3 YouTube clips in one sentence. Or what about the #mmm guy or whoever the f he is that says holy flipamoli while he shows off another rare EX card that he scored from the 1000th pack he’s opened . . . in that hour long video. Shoot me. But you know what. When you’re a parent and you have a needy baby and two other kids who haven’t evolved out of that, as I’ve said before, it’s like March Madness, you just survive and advance.
My Patagonia Atom Sling:
Let’s call a spade a spade. It’s my diaper bag. But honestly, it’s kind of a little emasculating to rock my wife’s flower patterned diaper bag (Ellen, it’s beautifully sown, sensationally constructed, fantastic, [insert synonym here] . . . just not on me). Cool mother fucker is never uttered when I roll into the room, but I’m sure as shit not feeling that vibe if I’m toting a handbag over my shoulder. But with this bag,
shit, you have no idea what kind of trouble I’m getting into. Except then you see 3 kids, and then a bottle come out, and diapers, and wipes, and snacks, and waters. Yup, all that can fit in this bag that shoulder straps and apparently is made of 100% recycled polyester. See, I’m saving the environment too. Score!
And this is my life.