Ditched!
Barring the months Little Sis’ happiness centered around Lady-Friend’s boobs and me not having a working set, I’ve never been the guy who cringes at playing “Mr. Mom”. Yeah, Facebook updates hint that when lady-Friend leaves, my kids go on the Happy Meal diet while I eat poop sandwiches, but reality? I’ve got that “Mr. Mom” gig in a headlock and I’m giving it noogies ’til it cries for a clean pair of underpants.
So what has been up with all the Lady-Friend absentia and Single Daddery over the last two weekends?
One word: Ditched.
Weekend 1: Lady-Friend and a few gal-pals bailed on the mundane life to hole up in a cabin for some toenail painting, pillow fighting and Truth or Dare. Actually, I’m not sure what they did, but it was probably closer to soaking in a break from Butt/Snot-wiping than a Cinemax reel.
Weekend 2: A two-day dusk ’til dawn Les Mills RPM training certification. Les Mills = a New Zealand-based fitness consortium that creates workout programs for gym (very specifically, Gold’s Gym) use. RPM is their Spin (ie- stationary bike racing) Pay-To-Puke class. Naturally, she kicked RPM’s flabby buttcheeks and earned her certification, which means she’s officially green-lit to feel the burn, yell at sweaty people and take an occasional paycheck for it.
In the mean time, I was home showing domesticism the what-for: playing one man “good-cop-bad-cop”, compulsively cleaning and making sure Little Sis nailed her naps so Little Dude and I could stomp lawn-wrecking mice in the back yard without scarring her for life.
Not that Little Sis is no fun– she’s become a crawling , blue-eyed, diaper-filling, babbling ball of cute and an honorary member of Little Dudes United. I’m not sure how the honorary membership plays into that whole nature vs. nurture thing, but with Legos/Star Wars stuff always on the floor (and Little Dude always right in the middle of them) he-toys have become her go-to thing. She’ll grab a Star Wars guy from his carefully placed lineup, hold it up in the air and go “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!” like the guy’s at death’s door. That or when she sees Little Dude sifting through his Lego box looking for the right piece, she’ll do the same; then throw them all over the carpet. Little Dude’s usually down with this because like any older brother worth his salt, the kid enjoys making his sibling cry and I like to think that at some cosmic level, he understand it’s all payback.
Of course, three months off of Mankend ’09, I’m somewhere on that cosmic plane as well.
Its true…all true..you seriously rock when I am gone…its AWESOME!! The part where the kids get sad when I do come home…not so awesome.