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The Supermarket
Daddy, when will I be a grownup?
When you go to the supermarket 14 times a week
We technically have a food shopping day. Often that day, Sunday, turns into Monday or Tuesday. Regardless of the day we go, we always wind up going back for something just about every day.1<———- CLICK ON RED BOXES
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The Ducks
Watching seven-year-old girls play soccer is like watching ducks attack a piece of bread in a pond.
And this is a vast improvement from coaching five-year-old boys.
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The Concert
“Brett’s scared of lightning.” my wife Lauren tells our group, while I look like I want to curl up into a fetal position.
In between lightning flashes, all I can think about is the made-up conversation these people are having in their heads. So let me get this straight… your husband doesn’t drink, he doesn’t do any fun recreational drugs, he no longer eats, and now with this lightning, he’s a complete wimp?
Well, he is a good designated driver when he’s not taking Xanax. And he has a bizarre sense of humor which you will really appreciate when you’re under the influence.
“Lauren should really just commit you to a nursing home already,” my friend says.
“Sounds good to me,” I reply. “I like those little ice creams they give you on your tray.”
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The One Parent Weekend
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The Game
The greatest Vampire Baseball player ever Baseball field, Brooklyn – 1984
Bottom of the sixth inning, last chance for the Braves, down 7-6, 2 outs.
Playing shortstop for the Giants, the seven-year-old boy who would grow up to pretend his name is Brett Grayson, waits for the pitch. The pitcher delivers (okay, I’m lying, it was T-Ball, no one delivered any pitch). The batter crushes a ball over the outfielder’s head. The Giants outfielder, who was in the outfield for a reason (not coordinated), retrieves the ball. The batter is rounding the bases, heading for home to tie the game.
The outfielder throws the ball to me, and I relay it home. The throw is hard and high. The catcher jumps, but it goes over his head. The umpire, standing behind the catcher, gets in the way of the throw, and it hits him right in the neck below the faceguard.
And he’s out! No, not the runner. The umpire. Out. Unconscious. Coaches run to his side and attend to him.
Me: (to my father) What’s the call, Dad? Is he out?
35 years later
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The Procedure
If you’re not familiar with our son’s story, first check out this piece I wrote for Scary Mommy: The End of Innocence
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Monday afternoon – Boston Children’s Hospital – bathroom
I rub up against my wife, Lauren, while she washes her hands.
“What are you doing?” Lauren asks.
I shrug my shoulders.
“You want to have sex in the bathroom of a children’s hospital while our son is having an eight-hour surgery?”
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The Death Talk
Never thought these two would share a photo I find the timing of when people pass away to be endlessly interesting. Sometimes a celebrity dies at the wrong time and gets trumped by someone more famous’ death. (poor Mother Theresa never stood a chance against Princess Di) Then there are instances when two people with no previous connection pass away the same week and become inextricably linked in my mind. My wife Lauren’s grandmother and Luke Perry both died last week. The only similarity between them before last week was they both stood upright (and even that was questionable the last few years of her life).
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The Snow Trip
When you live in a cold weather climate, you are miserable in the winter – at least I am. One way to overcome it is to convince yourself there are fun things in the winter. There aren’t. We’re just waiting for it to end. But we try.
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The Vacation
“Family vacation” is an oxymoron. Transporting a four and a six-year-old to a different country is like climbing a greased telephone pole. And even if you get a few moments of relaxation when you’re there, it is sure to be cancelled out by the process of getting them home.
Some days, though, are just weird enough to make it all worth it.
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The One Parent Weekend
My wife, Lauren, went away for the weekend with her mother, ostensibly for some R & R at a spa in Pennsylvania. She might have just gone to her parents’ house and hid there for 48 hours. I wouldn’t blame her if she did.
This left me alone with the children from Friday evening through Sunday. Expectations were low as I am a sometimes-depressed/always-lazy parent who preaches discipline, which in reality translates to impatience, yelling and finally caving to all their desires.
Lauren (before leaving): I left you four notes.
Me: I’m fine. I don’t need notes.
Lauren: Four! Read them and text me any questions.
Me: You can’t wait?
Lauren: No.
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The Concert
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The End of Innocence
Kids deserve at least ten years of complete innocence. Sometimes they’re not afforded that.
Thursday morning, 4:00 A.M.
We tiptoe into our four-year-old son, Matt’s room. We need to pick him up and transfer him asleep into the car.
“You do it. You’re better,” my wife, Lauren, whispers. This is not true. She always wins at Yeti in My Spaghetti. She just wants to be able to blame me later when he’s freaking out in the car.
Why 4:00A.M.? I’m a morning person.2<—– CLICK ON THESE RED BOXES FOR MY TERRIBLE JOKES
I carry him down the stairs and out the garage.
STAY IN TOUCH!
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