Posts tagged ‘fatherhood’

Outed!

3 December, 2014 | | 1 Comment

The Reigning Queen of Pink, Grand Duchess of Fluff, Lord High Protector of Barbies, and Baroness of the Hummingbirds just walked up to me this evening and announced that, quote, “Daddy, it wouldn’t surprise me if you were Bi.”

BUMD:  “Um, what?”
RQOP:  “You’re Bisexual.  Or at least you’re probably Bisexual.”
BUMD:  “Okaaaaaaaaaaaay…  May I ask how you came to this conclusion?”
RQOP:  “Oh, nothing.  I just have a feeling.”
BUMD:  “So, I’m setting off your Gaydar.”
RQOP:  “Well, Bi-dar, but yes.”

So, I guess I’m bi.  Who knew?  Mind you, this ties in with my theory that pretty much everyone is about 3 drinks from bi, but I really didn’t expect to be outed, while sober, by a 12-year-old whose total sexual experience is limited to The American Girl Body Book and a handful of tampons. I guess I’d better pick up some flowers for my boyfriend tomorrow.

Bi-dar?  I’ve known this little pink thing for 12 years and she can still make me say “huh?”

 

Halloween & Happy Birthday

31 October, 2014 | | 1 Comment

Sixteen years ago, on this day, our lives were changed forever on the occurrence of the birth of the Human Tape Recorder.  Her life was changed just as much, in that she was born, which is, when you think about it, probably just as bizarre as having a baby.  We went from DINK yuppie scum to frightened parents in the blink of an eye, and she went from floating in a safe warm dimly-lit room to a weird, brightly-lit cavern with wind and air and stuff, and people poking at her and talking to her.  Her first reaction was to poop, and I was so nervous I nearly did the same.  We’ve come a long way since then!

So without further ado, Happy Halloween and Happy Birthday to the Human Tape Recorder!  Sixteen years old and she’s still my walking memory bank.

Everybody’s a critic

25 July, 2014 | | 3 Comments

So there we were, at dinner, and to the surprise of no one at all, Number One Son says something that was, by any definition, highly inappropriate.  What it was, precisely, is not relevant to our story.

NOS:  [Highly inappropriate and disturbing remark]
BUMD:  “Son, that’s not appropriate.  You need to learn ….”  And here, I paused, trying to think of how to phrase this message.  After a pause of perhaps 20 seconds, I gave up.  It’s been a long week.
BUMD:  “Do you know what?  Never mind.”
Reigning Queen of Pink:  “Dad!!!  What the hell kind of pep talk was THAT?  You really suck at this!” 

Thanks, kid.

SOBUMD was howling with laughter.

I can’t WAIT to be a grandfather.  My kids are going to be SO frightened to bring their kids to Grandma and Grandpa’s house….

A Definition of Friendship

19 July, 2014 | | 3 Comments

It took 14 years.  We really didn’t think it would happen.

Number One Son is downstairs, playing video games with his friend, who slept over last night.

When was the first time you had a friend come over and play?  Just swing by, hang out for a few hours?  You were, what?  Five years old?  Maybe you were all of 8 or 9.  I think I was 8, honestly, but I could be off by a bit – I don’t remember the 70’s well, for obvious reasons.  But Number One Son has never had a friend come over to play with him – ever.  Not one.  This past Wednesday, he mentioned to SOBUMD that he was going to step outside for a few minutes.  “OK,” said she, “just come in before it rains.”

This was unusual in and of itself – he doesn’t going outside much, willingly at least.  “Dad, I went outside *last* week – sure, the graphics are amazing, but the gameplay sucks.”  So SOBUMD wasn’t surprised when he came back in 3 minutes later.  She *was* surprised, though, when she heard more voices.  She went to check.

“Hi, I’m Owen,” said the boy we’ll call Owen.  “Number One Son has stayed in touch with me over the summer.”

“Nice to meet you!”  We’d heard about Owen from school; they were friends.  This is the first time Number One Son has ever stayed in touch with anyone.  We just didn’t know he lived in our neighborhood.  “Do your parents know you’re here, or are they out frantically looking for you?”

“Oh, no, they know exactly where I am – after all, Dad dropped me off.”

Whoa.  It turns out, Number One Son had organized this whole thing – he just left out the bit where he told us about it.  The boys communicate for hours, it turns out, over their headsets on the servers that they’re logging into for gaming.  So, fast forward 2 days, and suddenly we’re hosting a sleepover.

Number One Son and I just drove Owen home, pizza, Coke, and a good time having been had by all.  On the way home, I got this question:  “So Dad, is this what friendship is like?  A loss of interest and enjoyment in the things that you used to enjoy, unless your friend is with you?”

I said yes.  The more I thought about it, I told him that that might be one of the best definitions of friendship I’d ever heard.  It took him 14 years, but I’m very glad he’s finally found friends who really get him.  There’s hope for us all!

Take Me Where?

8 July, 2014 | | 2 Comments

Hey, yes, I know, it’s been forever.  Or at least, far too long.  As always, time gets away from me, and things get complicated.  In any event, this was worth sharing.

You might not be surprised to hear this, but I’m the kind of guy who walks around singing a lot.  This is somewhat unfortunate, considering my singing voice, but still.  Considering my advanced age, it probably won’t surprise you that many of the songs that I walk around singing are, shall we say, less than current.   Yesterday, while getting out the door to go shopping for cat food, Coke, and a 16-foot long 2×12 (you should see our dinners), I found myself singing Eddie Money’s “Take Me Home Tonight,” which I must have heard on the radio recently, since I seem to remember some of the words.

“I can feel your heart beat faster / Take me home tonight / I don’t want to let you go ’til we see the light / Take me home tonight…”

Whereupon Number One Son, in all his 14-yr-old glory, looks at me and interjects, “Well, OK, but you could at least buy me dinner first.”

 Fourteen years old and he’s still making me say, “Huh?”

I leave you with Eddie, Ronnie, and the ’80s. But please, buy her dinner first.