Always Beware When The Room Smells Like Hamster And You Don't Own A Hamster

For those of you who have had the good sense not to reproduce, I take my hat off to you. For those of you with children, my prayers go out to you.

I have a little girl named Lucy and she will be the one who peppers my blond hair with gray before my time. Lucy is a born actress and she frustrates me to no end. She has a horrible habit that I'd like to tell you about.

I go in one morning to wake her up for school and I could swear that the room smelled like a hamster. We don't own a hamster, but the smell persisted. My sense of smell is the dullest of all my senses after an unfortunate bottle rocket incident as a child. I wrote the weird smell off to farts in the night from onion rings the night before.

I don't smell it when I put her to bed that night but the door has been open all day.

The next morning I go to get her up and her bedroom reeks of hamster, right down to the ceder chip bedding and the little black grains of rice they call their poop. The room smells of hamster but I only have one eye open and need a cup of coffee in the worst way, so I will investigate later after the kids are on the bus. I forgot all about it until bedtime that night.

Lucy and I go to get PJ's for bed and the room smells like a zoo-sized hamster cage! Five year olds operate under the idea that when you are done with something you drop it where you are. Should you want it later, it will be in the place you dropped it. If it isn't there, you cannot look for it yourself but must round up a posse. Needless to say, five year olds don't tend to be neat and tidy.

I can't stand the mystery any longer and go searching for the hamster smell. I clean the room and put everything in it's place. Still no luck. The room stinks of rodent. I get down on my belly and marine crawl to the farthest back corner under her bed and find a boiled egg I had made two weeks ago.

To say that it looked like a cancerous ulcer would have been putting it kindly. I was afraid to pick it up lest the zombie chick inside bite me. It was rapidly disposed of when a stake was driven through it's heart.

From somewhere on Flannery's side of the family, Lucy gets the inclination to hide food like a squirrel. I can't explain it. She always tucks a snack away for later. I've started to find juice boxes and Doritos hidden in various closets. If she is trying to prepare for Doom's Day, let's hope she is taking her cues from Charlton Heston and not David Koresh.

Doc

Vignettes: Saxy Music

Riley finds a calender with classic cars and hot rods on it in the school parking lot and they are looking at it as I'm driving them to Grandma's.

Lucy: That's a sexy car!

Riley: Don't say that word! I don't like that word.

Lucy: What? All I said was that's a sexy car.

Riley: You don't even know what that word means.

Lucy: Sure I do. Just like the music we are listening to. It's sexy music.

Riley: No it's not!

Lucy: Sure it is. It's got a sax in it.

Riley: A saxophone?

Lucy: Yeah.

Riley: Well, yeah. I guess it is saxy music.

Lucy: See, I told you.

I'm driving and trying not to swerve as I'm laughing so hard to myself.

Doc

What's In Your Wallet?

A while back, Capital One would play commercials for their credit card with hordes of vikings charging through the shot to punish those who were stupid enough to own a different credit card than a Capitol One and every commercial ended the same way. A big burly oaf in armor would scream at the screen, "What's in your wallet?!?"

I have no idea if Capital One has been bitten in the ass by our recent economic downturn, but they don't play the commercials anymore. Maybe they had just run their course much like the dufus who continued to inform me that, "Dude, you're getting a Dell!" Regardless, I'm not here to shill for these jackasses.

I was purchasing a charming Russian beer called Baltika last night after pulling my shift at the bakery, and I opened my wallet to get my bankcard out and left it open on the little desk by the cash register where you can write out your check. The cashier looked at my wallet and gave me a quizical smile.

My wallet is unremarkable. It is black and has eight cards in it. One bankcard, two credit cards (niether of them a Capital One), Flannery's business card, driver's license, library card (used twice), Blockbuster video membership card (used twice), and my Union card (never used). There is also proof that my Jeep is in fact insured and a list of important phone numbers that I can't be bothered to remember. The phone number list is so old that several people on it have already died and won't be taking my calls anyway. My wallet does not now, nor has it ever had money in it. If I have money on me, it is in my left front jeans pocket and it is in coins totaling up to less than one dollar.

Like I said, my wallet is unremarkable save for one unusual feature that triggered the cashier's "WTF?" smile. My wallet has a sticker inside. The sticker is of a brawny, scantily clad male fairy with humming bird-like wings in mid-swoop. It is the sort of thing that no middle-aged heterosexual male would be caught dead owning, much like a Chippendale's dancer calender. It just projects the wrong image to the casual observer.

It is however the kind of thing you would expect a six year old little girl to have, which makes sense as that's where it came from. "Here Daddy. Keep this with you always. It will make you think of me. It's a boy fairy, so it's okay," she reassured me.

And every time I open my wallet and see this winged Adonis smiling at me, I do think of her and her sister, and how I'm going to have to pay for two college educations, two weddings, two first cars, two prom dresses, and two training bras, I smile and put the expensive beer back in the cooler and grab some PBR instead.


It's good to be Dad,
Doc

Vignettes

Lucy- Dad, what do you know about head boils?

Me - um...

Doc

Vignettes

Me- What are you going to do with your night-blanket when you go to kindergarten Lucy?

Lucy- I think I'll have it made into a sportcoat.

Doc

Vignettes

Lucy, age four, has a bad habit of waiting until Flannery and I are asleep and sneaking into our bed. Not only that, but she talks in her sleep. Below are three things she shouted out this week.

1. Anyway...

2. (in a frightened voice) Let mama in!

3. (with a giggle) Wait 'til I throw this thing into reverse!

Doc

When Butts Attack...

This morning I awake to cries of, "Help! Help!". I roll over and both of the girls have climbed into my bed. Riley is yelling, and Lucy is sitting on her head and she went to the trouble to pull her pants down first.

I just know that this will be another incident that my mother-in-law will blame on my poor genetic material.



Doc

Some Notes On Children

Don't. Just don't.

I know, it sounds good at the time. Your lover is looking at you with that "come hither" stare and that glass of wine you had with dinner is really going right to your head. You know in your heart of hearts that this is how YOU came to be in this world, so why not give it a go yourself? You are simply fulfilling the one job that nature asks of you: reproduce. Besides, this could be fun. Kids are fun right? YOU were a fun kid, so you should have fun kids. It's in the genes. Not to mention you have a chance of passing along the family name.

Don't buy it for a second. Take a cold shower, have some coffee and pet the cat. By doing this you will have saved yourself thousands of dollars and forty plus years of grief.

People will lie to you and tell you how great kids are. Pay close attention. The people who tell you this either don't have them and want them, or they have some and look like a half crazed homeless person who should never reproduce.

I know. I have some.

Sure, they are the light of my life and I love them dearly. Since they came into this world I've never been apart from them for more than a day or two, and my mind is always thinking about them when they aren't in plain sight. I worry about them all the damn time. Are they eating well? Should I start teaching them fractions now? Am I a bad parent because they had two Popsicles instead of the broccoli I fixed? Why am I buying beer when this money should be putting them through college? How in the hell am I going to pay for two weddings? Is the neighbor kid getting frisky with my girls? My God, I hope they aren't playing in the knife drawer or drinking bleach!

Even after they are adults the worry never ends. Is their new boyfriend good enough? Are they struggling to pay the bills? Are they having unprotected sex? You don't think they are on drugs do you? That skirt is too short and that top is much too revealing. How can you listen to this crap you call music? Wear your seatbelt or you will die like Uncle Dave. Please Dear Lord, let them get this job! Oh no! The news said there is a fire/explosion/shooting in their neighborhood. Please let them be alright!

Save yourself the worry. Buy a cat.

Unless you and your spouse have just too much love in your hearts for the two of you.

Kids are great.

Doc

Vignettes

1. The oldest comes running through the house at breakneck speed yelling, "I know what the strongest thing in the world is! I know what the strongest thing in the world is!" She only halts in her tracks when she reaches me in the kitchen. "What is that baby?" She throws her arms into the air for a hug and says, "Love!"

2. I go into the guest bathroom and find three brand new rolls of toilet paper sitting on the sink. The rolls are unharmed and all three have not been unraveled, as the first tab of toilet paper remains stuck just as it came from the factory. Beside the three rolls sit the three cardboard tubes that should be in the center of these rolls. The tubes are whole and unwrinkled, and for the life I me, I can't figure out how they got them out of the rolls unmolested. I'm raising geniuses.

3. The oldest never says "interesting". She says "instressting".

Doc

Happy Father's Day.

To all of you who have done as nature has commanded and reproduced, Gentlemen, here is your day. I hope there is a cold one in the fridge for you. To those of you who haven't reproduced, I guess that free's up a lot of disposable income and that rebate check is yours to blow.

Congrat's either way.

Doc

What Will They Say Next?

I picked the oldest up from school today and we were chatting about her day on the way home.
Her- Mrs. SoandSo was back to school today. She has been gone for seven days.
Me- Was she on vacation?
Her- No, she was really sick and had to have her Olympics taken out.

Doc