Stayin’ Home

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Thank you Dinana for your constant reminders that I haven’t posted lately, lol.

It has been awhile since my last post. Just to let you know that I’m not just sippin’ umbrella drinks, here’s the deal:

Starting last Monday, I became a full-time stay-at-home, work-from-home dad. IE: I’m taking care of the kiddo and writing full time from the comfort of my home office. In all fairness, I didn’t expect this to be an “early retirement” by any means, but it’s been more of a challenge that even “I” thought it would be.

In that light, here are “5 Things I Miss” and “5 Things I Love” now that my office is down the hall.

5 Things I Miss

1. There are no “coffee breaks.”

Regardless of what you might think, there are no “breaks” when working form home. If I go to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, there are also dishes to be done, laundry to be folded, and a baby who is (in Dave Barry’s words) either just about to cry, crying, or just finished crying.

2. You can’t tell your 2-month-old baby that “I’ll have to get back to you on that.” If it comes down to getting that great idea on paper or comforting the baby…forget the Pulitzer, man, you’re wipin’ butts!

3. Nobody believes you’re really working. Okay, this is a toss-up, cause a lot of the time, I’m not really working. Still, when someone calls you at the office and you say, “Hey, I’m at work, I can’t talk right now…” they usually believe you. Try this at home…it’s a laugh.

4. I miss “Quitin’ time.” Make no mistake, at home there is no quitting time. You work, you do chores, you work, you manage the baby, you work, you eat dinner…then you work some more. This is nothing new, Moms have been doing it for centuries. Stop what you’re doing right now and call your Mom, send her a card, book her a cruise. She deserves it!

5. I miss conversation. Admittedly, my conversations with my co-workers were usually pretty sophomoric, ranging from pure sarcasm to bodily function humor. At home with a twelve-week-old baby, you still get the bodily function stuff, but believe me, it ain’t no laughing matter!

Okay, enough whining…

5 Things I Love

1. I can go to work in my underwear (yes, yes…TMI.)

2. I don’t have to have change for the vending machine. My fridge has no lock, and I’m going to weight 700 pounds by the end of the year. When you’re writing fiction, twinkies seem to be the only answer to writer’s block.

3. I am un-interruptible (by most). No one just walks into my cube and starts a conversation regardless of what I’m working on, because I have locks on my front door. At home, if a stranger just walks into my “cube” I’m legally allowed to shoot him. Wouldn’t THAT be nice?

4. Napping is socially acceptable. No longer do I have to use excuses like, “I was meditating on the upcoming meeting,” or “I was finding my ‘writing place,” as long at the kid’s sleeping, I can too. I just have to make up the hours later.

5. My new “co-workers” are awesome. After spending 7 years trying to have a baby, I can, whenever I think to myself “I wonder what Gracie’s doing right now?” just turn in my chair and see. She never critiques my work and always has a smile for me (try getting THAT from you boss, lol.) Also, I can snuggle whenever I want, without risking being sent to a “class.”

So, that’s where I’ve been, but I promise I’ll keep posting. Any thoughts or tips from you “pros” on this whole “stay at home” thing?

Okay, I’m outta here.

Go call your mother!



10 Simple Rules for Dating my Daughter…

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Never too early to start planning…


10 Simple Rules for Dating My Daughter

(Slightly modified and personalized)

Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you’d better be delivering a package, because you’re sure not picking anything up.

Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me (and I am everywhere.)

You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter’s body, I will remove them…this is why I carry a Leatherman.

Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don’t take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are morons.

In order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of the date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist, and while I’m at it, I’ll take the opportunity to secure your zipper as well.

Rule Four:
I’m sure you’ve been told that in today’s world, sex without using a “barrier method” of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.

There are no laser-pointers in my house, I tell you this only to clarify the meaning of the “red dot” on your forehead.

Rule Five:
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this.

The only information I require from you is when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is “early.”

Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long it is okay with my Grace. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you.

If you make Gracie cry, I make you cry. Then I will turn you over to her mother.

Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating.

My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don’t you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?

On second thought, you’re a moron, don’t touch my car.

Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter:
Places where there are sofas, beds, or anything softer than a wooden stool.
Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight.
Places where there is darkness.
Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness.
Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and my old down hunting jacket – zipped up to her throat.
Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature power tools are okay.
Hockey games are okay.
Old folks homes are better.

Remember, I have field-dressed elk ten times your size…with a pen knife. You are not a challenge.

Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a middle-aged, gray-headed, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe.

If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I purchased a shotgun when I learned I we were having a baby girl. I also own a shovel, and am familiar with vast, empty tracks of Mt. Hood National Forest. Do not trifle with me.

Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid.

It takes very little for me to drift back a few years and mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a hostile drive-by vehicle. Whenever I hear engines at night, the voices in my head tell me to clean my weapons.

As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Announce the perimeter password, relay in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car – there is no need for you to come inside.

The camouflaged face at the window is mine.

Have a nice time