About six months ago Shirley decided she was going to attend her friends wedding in California.  Initially I was planning on going as well but saw an opportunity to get out of the trip by claiming it would be too expensive for both of us to go and somebody needed to watch the kids.  The reality was I had no desire to go to California when the weather was more than likely to finally be nice here, and boy was I right.  Shirley left Thursday and Saturday was the nicest day we have had since last fall.  What was I passing up by not going to California?  Vacation sex was the only benefit I could see in traveling cross country for a wedding of one of Shirley’s friends who we see once a year and hopefully get to the point where we never see her.  Granted, vacation sex is worth traveling across the country for, you can’t put a price on the peace of mind of knowing your kid won’t be pounding on your bedroom door mid coitus.  However, I knew that if I went to California and it was nice in Michigan I would be miserable because I would be stuck there not doing the things I wanted to get accomplished in Michigan once the weather turned.  Granted, having to take care of my two kids was going to handcuff me to a certain extent, but I had ways of making sure they didn’t interfere with my ultimate objective of getting shit done, primarily allowing them to watch as much tv as they wanted.

Shirley flew out early Thursday morning and I was first in command once she was in the air.  The refreshing thing about not having the other parent around is there is no one to judge for how you conduct yourself as a parent.  If I wanted to feed them chocolate bars for breakfast no one was going to say shit to me about it (they actually were eating chocolate bars while they watched tv when I came in from cleaning the island in our driveway of old mulch, they appeared to be the happiest they have ever been in their lives at that moment in time).  Now, here is the difference between men and women, or at lest me and Shirley, Shirley seems concerned, actually somewhat preoccupied as to the kids missing her.  When I  am gone I don’t give a shit, and I am quite certain the kids do not miss me one bit.  Does it bother me?  Not at all, but for some reason women, or at least Shirley, need to be missed by their children. The reality is the kids made no mention of their mom while she was gone other than asking a few times when she was going to be home.  This was annoying because they don’t know their days of the week so when I responded to their question by saying Sunday really late, it meant absolutely nothing to them.

Rewind back to the weekend prior, Shirley’s grandma turned 89 that weekend or sometime within the past two months and this appeared to be a gigantic cause for celebration requiring a party at our house.  I have gone into how her sister and her sister’s husband are vegetarians, it gets worse her sister’s husband is now Vegan, so if you really want to double down on being lame, make your primary source of nutrients legume’s, lentils, and beans.   Now I don’t ascribe to the vegetarian bullshit, I think it is ridiculous and one of the best ways to deprive oneself of one of the most pleasurable things the world has to offer this side of sex, meat.  And boy did I make meat happen at grandma’s birthday party, I smoked baby back ribs and a pork shoulder.  Guess what the veggies main course was?  Lentil loaf, it looked even more unappetizing than it sounds.  Shirley’s sister set the Lentil loaf next to the meat and Shirley asked her to move it, pretty sure she didn’t want any of the lentils getting on the delicious meat and ruining it.  When my sister-in-law scooped a healthy serving of lentil loaf on her four year old daughter’s plate her daughter threw a shit fit.  It took 15 minutes of coaxing her in the to talk her into eating the loaf, and to be honest I could have pinched a loaf that looked more appealing than the lentil loaf.  Later on when I was clearing the kitchen I said to my sister in law “I would have reacted the same way as Maddie did if you had tried to put lentil loaf on my plate”. Her response was “I don’t get it, Maddie loves lentils”.  Does she?  Sorry, no one loves lentils, the only way lentils would be consumed with exuberance is if they were a cure for erectile dysfunction.  Maddie loves lentils, I bet she does cartwheels when that quinoa barbecue comes out, MMM MMM GOOD!  You know what would make this quinoa barbecue good?  Meat.

Fast forward to this past weekend, I invited the veggies over for a “barbecue” where I cooked up brats and also grilled their faux hot dogs.  The troubling thing is that the quasi dogs looked about as tasty as the weiners I see in the MVP locker room on a weekly basis.  I’m pretty sure that if I had tried to feed one to our dog Allie she would have given me a what the fuck is wrong with you stare, and she’s 90% blind.  However, the dietary choices of the veggies is not the primary point of this particular antidote.   I attempted to make a campfire, I even put a pop can with gas in it as an accelerator, however the fire died out and I was left using a very small flame that was likely a result of smoldering wood chips from last years landscaping, to roast marshmallows for smores.  Now, I have never had any issue getting a boner, knock on wood, (that wasn’t intentional) but not being able to start and keep a campfire going has got to be the most emasculating thing this side of not being able to rise to the occasion.

My desire to not put myself in such an emasculating situation had me staring at the possibility of being air lifted to the spectrum health burn unit last summer.  We had invited friends over for a campfire.  Shirley and the kids were down the hill putting up a tent while I “started’ the fire.  I had a gallon can of gas and had doused the fire with it but stupidly left the gas can sitting on the edge of our fire pit. Somehow the gas can caught fire, I immediately kicked it off the fire pit and into the wood chips, highly flammable wood chips, resulting in the wood chips catching fire along with a shrub and a small tree.  I kicked the can out of the chips and into the grass and it rolled like a pinwheel of flames through the grass all while Shirley and the kids unsuspectingly kept putting up the tent.  Our friends arrived just in time to see the tail end of this debacle.  Ultimately, I grabbed the hose and extinguished all the fire that was outside of the fire pit, but lost a shrub, a lot of wood chips, and a small tree. I also had a lot of explaining to do.

I guess glass half full is that our most recent campfire, if you want to refer to it as a fire, didn’t put anyone in harms way.  By the time Sunday morning rolled around I needed some me time.  My Sunday morning me time consists of going to D n W to get Starbucks a Sunday paper and some random groceries.  I had had enough of my kids and coaxed them into staying home and watching TV while I made the trek to D n W.  The only way this could end up being a problem is if our Dish Network went out, I’m quite certain the loss of television would have sent them canvassing the neighborhood looking for some other form of entertainment, heaven forbid they be bored.  I got back and it was like I had never left, they were glued to the tv and I had gotten my much needed Starbucks as well as a healthy dose of alone time.  The next dilemma was wether I should go for a run and drop them at the Y in the kids zone or just put them in front of the world’s best baby sitter and least expensive, television, and just run at my house.  I opted for the easiest route and put on Peter Rabbit, an hour later when I returned they were so deep into the intricate plot line of Peter Rabbit, they didn’t even notice me.

When I was at D n W and checking out at the U scan it asked me if I wanted to to donate to the special olympics.  Are you kidding me?  Now I have to feel like an asshole every time I go to D n W and choose not to donate to the special olympics?  I”m definitely not going to the regular check out while this special olympics drive is going on because I’ll either feel obligated to donate so I don’t look like an asshole, or I’ll feel like even more of an asshole than I do at the U scan.  Fun fact, when I see girl scouts, the felons who pose as salvation army bell ringers, or anyone else at the entrance of a grocery store I look for an alternative entrance to avoid having to give these unsavory solicitors the heisman.  Seriously, these grocery store charitable campaigns are like herpes, you never know when they are going to show up and you never have any idea how long they are going to stick around.

Charitable cause are great as long as I don’t have to contribute to them.  However, there is one charitable cause I would like to get off the ground.  Yogurt awareness.  Yogurt awareness you ask?  Yes, I don’t know who the lobby is for yogurt, or what marketing companies churn out their propaganda, but they may as well be putting cocaine in their product.  The kids and I took a quick trip to Meijer and the kids wanted yogurt, being the discerning parent that I am I said hold on here let’s see how much sugar is in this, 21 grams!  I may as well buy you a Milky Way candy bar and a mountain dew to wash it down with.  Not sure why 21 grams of sugar is alarming in pretty much everything but yogurt, is it because yogurt staves off yeast infections (don’t ask me to explain the science I just know it does). Seriously, refugees, global warming, the special olympics, all valiant charitable causes, but I think it’s time we step up and put an end to this yogurt facade, no sense in people settling on taste and opting for yogurt when yogurt is equally as unhealthy as ice cream but is the flavor equivalent of lentils loaf compared to meat loaf when up against ice cream.  Just say no to Yogurt!