My Wife the Cheese Eating Vegan

Cheese eating vegan memeEating meat does not keep me up at night. I think I would be capable of hunting and gathering my family’s dinner in post-apocalyptic Texas. I also think, my two and four year old boys should make their own breakfast. I’m not sure which I’ll find the answer to first.

A while ago, my wife tells me at the dinner table she wants to be a vegan. My oldest son says, “What’s a began?” His younger brother also gave her a quizzical look while smearing ketchup in his hair.

“Vee, Vv. Vegan.” I replied.

“What’s that?” he puzzled.

Approaching age 5 my oldest son is starting to ask questions. He’s always done that, but now he’s actually remembering things that we have talked about before. It’s great, except that I have to be more creative about making snide remarks.

My wife interjected, “It’s a person who doesn’t eat meat, only yummy vegetables.”

He cocked one eyebrow and said, “Why?”

I took of bite of my chicken and nodded in agreement. I’m not against vegans; I’m against a house full of vegetables that my kids won’t eat. Maybe I’m a bad parent. Maybe my kids don’t like vegetables.

I said, “Ok, fine by me.”

She glared as if she had heard, “Fine by me if you want to quit eating delicious meat. You won’t make it till lunch. I’ll have a double baconator with cheese waiting for you.” (For the record, I did NOT say that and I do not appreciate feminine telepathy.) She knew that I had my reservations, but she assured me that she would fight the self-righteousness newly bestowed upon her and that I could eat all of the death-meat I wanted.

I never doubted her being able to give up meat. It’s the cheese. She knew by becoming a vegan she would have to give up delicious, stinky, funky, blow your socks off cheese. I love my wife dearly, but I have never known her to be a “stick-to-it” person. In nine years of marriage, she has purchased books for the South Beach, Adkins, Hollywood, Blood Type, and Morning Banana diets. I recently had a garage sale and I offered a dollar to anyone who would take them from me. There were no takers, but somehow I ended up with a copy of P90X to complete my collection. Continue reading

The Fat Bastards

Somewhere around the year 1995, there existed a band that planned to take over the world. An acid rock band made up of misfit high school students that called themselves, “The Fat Bastards.” I saw them “practice” a couple times. They were very good… at being proud of their band. Let’s be honest, it is possible that they were the worst band in the history of high school bands. I don’t know, and who am I to judge? After all, I think that we here at Just a Dad 247 are the funniest dad bloggers to ever live. Is it possible we are the worst dad bloggers in the history of dad bloggers? You be the judge.

What I do know is this… those guys, those “Fat Bastards,” they grew up. And they are all still friends. And now, they have kids. And they are some of the best kid-picture-chroniclers to ever live. Some of the band members have allowed us exclusive permission into their vault of kid pics, where we may pick and choose the hidden gems to release upon the world. Therefore, Just a Dad 247 is proud to present, the “Fat Bastards” vault of kid pics.

star wars

braaaaiiinnnsss

And this, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, may be the only surviving picture of the infamous “Fat Bastards.”

the fat bastards

Stay tuned for more gems from the “Fat Bastards” vault of kid pics.

The Dad Brothers Do Spring Cleaning

The Dad Brothers Do Spring CleaningApril is known for showers and when it rains, it pours. In the past week Pat and I have collectively had an immobilizing strained back muscle, a meltdown on an airplane, Mimi dislocating her shoulder, a pee catastrophe in the airplane bathroom, my stupid cat ran away, and good friends of the family lost their 26 y/o child. When it rains…

Sometimes we’ve got to clean out the cobwebs. Priorities are the base of our best existence, should we not check occasionally where they are at? It’s tough for me to turn the light on myself, but thankfully, I’ve got a Dad Brother to do that with. I guess I’m looking at spring cleaning as more than a mop this year.

There is nothing wrong with admitting your own faults. Look at Pat. He’s wrong almost all the time and I’m still friends with him. In fact, that’s why old friends are so great to keep in our lives. They see the person you have been and the person you are trying to be. They take the good. They take the bad. They take them both and there you have…the facts of life. Continue reading

I’m Getting a Brother

imgettingalittlebrotherTo keep up with the Joneses, I took pictures of my oldest son holding a sign to announce our second child. The original idea was to catch my perfect child smiling while holding my nearly illegible message.

It started out innocently enough. My wife ironed our two year old’s clothes and I promised him treats as I handed him the sign. He did not like the sign.

I reminded him about the treats. His response was the third picture in the sequence. I kept snapping pictures trying to make him laugh, clinging to the futile hope that he would become happy and blotch-free. 

I had a plan and two year old ruined it. It’s funny how comically dumb that statement is.

My wife and I looked at the pictures later and cracked up at some of the moments that we caught on film. Most of the pictures you see here are out of order, but the idea struck me to make a little joke out of it.

Why shouldn’t we revel in the successes and failures of our children? If I only show people perfect smiles and pressed pants, I’m hiding who my children really are. They cry, they scream, and they don’t listen. They also learn, they succeed and they make me laugh. They are imperfect little blessings that are trying their best in a world that is constantly changing.

I could say the same about my own life.

The announcement was well received and the originals are on my youngest son’s wall. Maybe someday they will appreciate it.

Fear Lost in Flight

fear lost in flightFlying in an airplane with a baby for the first time isn’t as hard as they say. Unless you’re completely paranoid, overly excited and easily stressed out with a defense mechanism that involves cookies.

The Understudy and I accompanied The Wife to Orlando for a work conference. I got really excited for him to capitalize on his first flight as this would obviously advance his social maturity. He would get his wings from the pilot, I would get adoring looks from the hot flight attendants and The Wife would get looks of terror from everyone else as they prayed that they wouldn’t be sitting next to the screaming baby.

In our game planning for the day, I panicked. We have a baby, a stroller, milk in a bottle, a car seat to check and I’m overweight and will NOT be running to catch a plane. Continue reading