Forrest Gump, Stand By Me and Einstein's Special Theory of Relativity

Oh what a week.  
As the gods once again decided to use me as their karmic play toy, they thought it would be fun to hit the ButterBottom house with a stomach virus during wifey's busiest work time of year.  And if you didn't know, she has breast cancer and is going through chemo. 
Fortunately, her new chemo meds aren't quite as horrendous as her first batch (but still no cup of tea either) and she's been able to work during part of this morass. 
Anyhoo, what started with an 'uh-oh' from Turner, turned into projectile vomit in the car, to daddy unable to move for two days to poor Henry screaming in the bathroom, "nobody move, nobody move", quickly followed by him retching.
It was pretty much just like this famous movie scene from my childhood:

Happy Mother's Day

(Repost from earlier, but since its Mother's Day and all - Happy Mother's Day)


Gender issues are always a part of staying home with children and especially so if you are a man.  But one thing, especially since I have two boys, I've always looked forward to and dreamt about is teaching them sports.  

I was never excellent at any one sport, but athletic enough that I could play just about any sport on a pick up game level. I played soccer, baseball and wrestled growing up, but if a bunch of guys were playing football or basketball I could jump in and play. Not with guys on the basketball team, but just your average bunch of guys.
And for my kids, that's all I hope. If they find one sport they excel at, great, but honestly, all anyone wants is that their child isn't the last one picked when kids pick teams at school. 

So as my boys were both in diapers and both smearing their food on their face, I at least held on to my dreams of playing catch or shooting hoops or kicking the ball with them when they were just a wee bit older. 

The problem is, I'm a man. 

Ready for football?

Going Off Grid

Taking a leave of absence for the foreseeable future, probably the next few months.  My attention is needed elsewhere.
Thanks for reading and hopefully I'll have fun and funny things to write about in the fall.


ButterBottom out

Downtown Abbey - Wait, Was That Foreplay?

I never remember wifey being a big fan of period pieces, but like seemingly thousands of others, she's totally on the Downtown Abbey train.


I don't particularly care for period pieces myself, but I'm a sucker for a woman with a British accent, so I usually will watch part of one.  


One of the problems is I have a hard time with some of the heavier accents.  Making matters worse, they always speak in such hushed tones and with such an air of dignity.  Its like a prim and proper pre-NPR, but nobody is eating the microphone while they talk. 


But I love dear wifey and I want to spend time with her when she's home, especially if the boys are at school and there's no threat of them running in and crashing the house.  


So I've come up with a little game that wifey has generously let me play.  I will watch Downtown Abbey with her and since I never know who is who or what all the hushed double entendres may really mean, I periodically ask, "wait, was that foreplay?"


She giggles and then either says no, or oddly, sometimes I'm right.  It could be the cook and the footmen in the hall chatting about the lawn, and she'll say, 'how did you miss that, that was definitely foreplay'.  


And with them being prim and proper Brits from 75 years ago, there is so much repressed sexuality, that it doesn't matter if its a man and a woman, two men, two women, everyone on that show needs a good lay. 


In a recent episode, one of the man servants (butler maybe, who knows) just quit and gave word to the lord of the house.  The homo eroticism was off the charts.  
Later, a woman met a man leaving for war at the train station and it didn't have half the sexuality of the butler quitting. 


So ladies, if you want to watch and enjoy Downtown Abbey on your own, please do.  
But if you actually for some reason want to spend time with your spouse / boyfriend / girlfriend, teach them my little game "wait, was that foreplay?".

Because you really never know with those old Brits.
Was that really foreplay or not?

King Kong Ain't Got S--t On Me!!!!

We are about 6 weeks in to chemotherapy and 8 total weeks of cancer diagnosis. 
And you know what? I'm mad. 
I'm fighting mad.  I am so blind with rage I can barely see straight.
You know what else? I have a right to be mad.  My wife has cancer.  She didn't do anything to deserve it (no one does) and I don't have to like it one bit. 
Sure, I have to be brave and happy in front of my kids and I am.
But I also have the right to cry, to sob, to be mad, to scream.  My wife has cancer and I can't fix that.  


But I am strong.  
I am powerful.  
And this weekend, it really began to crystallize for me who else is strong and who just wilts in the slightest breeze.  


I'm Michael Corleone gunning down everyone in his sight while he performs his god-sons baptism. 
I'm Rocky Balboa and Godzilla's love child.
I was born in a cross-fire hurricane.
I am so freaking bad-ass you have never seen anything like it.  


And cancer, you messed with my wife and I'm Marcellus Wallace about to get a couple of crack smoking --- to go medieval on your ass. 

The Absurdity of Cleaning The House (And Fighting the Deer)

Whoever said cleanliness is next to godliness has a sick since of humor, or possibly God goes out to dinner every night.
  
Am I the only one who after an exhaustive day of cleaning - really cleaning - mopping, vacuuming, steam cleaning, toilets, baseboards, etc... that takes the family out to dinner just so the house stays clean for a few hours? 


Really, when you have pets and boys its almost non-sensical to clean.  While you are cleaning in one room, they are completely trashing another. 
Sure a maid would be nice, but then we'd be those really weird people who 'straighten up for the maid'.  
Huh?  Isn't the point of a maid so that he / she can 'straighten up' your house?
And if you are cleaning, who's doing the laundry? Or cooking? 
Sisyphus has nothing on a stay-at-home parent. 


No matter how much time I spend mopping or cleaning, someone (ahem, Thing #2) is doing this on the wall:

Thing #2's signature random coloring on wall. 

Bald Is Beautiful and Mohawks Are Manly!

My wife is a tiny bit vain.  She admits it.  We all are.  So obviously losing her hair was going to be an issue.  But after only maybe two days of her new do, she's taking the world by storm.  No wigs for this lady.  She has got one good looking head and she's ready to show it off. 
This doesn't mean she's lost all of her vanity though.  Evidently, she actually cares what I look like too.  When I asked her if she wanted me to shave my head as a show of solidarity, her response was basically:
"No, you'd look like an idiot".  Ah, true love. 
But she's right. I'm too skinny and hairy everywhere else that bald would NOT be beautiful on this guy.  Plus, I'm pretty sure my head is weird shaped or probably pointy or something.   Thankfully, she gave me a pass.


For the kids, many of you know, Henry is basically Mini-Me, and I think would not pull of the bald or closely shaved head look too well and luckily, he had no interest.  
But Turner is a bad-ass.  And he has a lot of the Markey physical qualities that Wifey has, one of which is a good skull.  So Turner stepped up in a huge way and went with a Mohawk to show his props for mommy. 
So without further, ado, check out my awesome family photo shoot from last night.

Red Hot Mama

Bad-Ass On Board

Loving Mommy's Clean Scalp

The Best!

I used to think I couldn't love my wife or family more than I did at that moment, but every day, I'm amazed at all of our capacity to love even more.  


Be good.