The How-Not-To Guide to Parenting and Marriage (8 page)

30.
CHILDREN'S ART

My wife and I have always encouraged our girls to be creative. From the time that could hold a crayon or marker, we have provided them with every v
ariety of art supply available. I absolutely love all of their creations. Even the ones that make your eyebrows raise.

One such eyebrow raising creation was waiting for me when I arrived home from work one day. It was a twenty foot mural painted on the black canvas of our asphalt driveway. The subject matter was a smiling dog.

A smiling dog that was in a familiar crouching pose . . . . .

The crouching pose of a dog that was pooping.

Pooping multicolored poops.

And the worst part was the fact that this art had been rendered in full color, using the collection of spray paint I keep in the garage.

As I stood scratching my head and admiring the smiling, pooping, anatomically correct, male canine, my wife came bursting out the front door. I could tell by her body language that she had already seen giant masterpiece, and was not happy about it.

"Do you see what your daughters did?
” she yelled, as if I had put them up to it.

"Well, yes I see ..... Wait a minute, MY daughters? You're the one who is always telling them to use their imaginations! Besides, it’s not that big of deal. It'll just get tarred over when we have the driveway resealed."

My wife’s eyes got even bigger as she yelled, "NOT THAT BIG OF DEAL? My 'Moms Who Care' group is meeting here in an hour. Do you know how embarrassing it will be for me if they are greeted by a twenty foot tall crapping dog, who is quite obviously a male?"

"Oh", I said.

Just then, my neighbor Robert wandered up, and in true Robert fashion said, "Don't you think this sort of driveway decoration might lower property values in the neighborhood?"

Now I was mad.

"SHUT UP ROBERT! I know for a fact, that YOU were using the bushes behind our houses as your personal toilet while your septic was getting worked on! And that was after I told you that you could use OUR bathroom!"

Robert let out a snort, but knew better than to try denying my accusation.

My attention was immediately drawn back to the artistic problem at hand by my wife, who demanded to know what I was going to do about it.

"Robert and I will figure something out" I said unsurely.

With only an hour until the group of moms arrived, sealcoating the driveway was out of the question. I considered painting over the drawing with a nearly full can of purple paint that was left over from my wife's "accent wall" phase. However, Robert insisted that purple was the color that was used by aliens to mark landing zones during human abduction events. I was skeptical, to say the least, but not wanting to chance that kind of attention, I moved on to other ideas.

I reasoned that there wasn't enough time to cover the art with tar, nor run to the hardware to get a non-alien-attracting color. This left only one option as I saw it . . . .  Alter the painting to make it less offensive.

Robert had found just enough black paint to turn the male dog into a non-male dog (as long as you didn't catch the cover up in the right light). This solved one problem.

Being the intellectual type, I was able to use the remainder of the spray paint to turn the poops into puppies. This solution was actually quite easy, at least with the three "midair" droppings. The pile that my daughter's had drawn, was a bit more challenging than the oblong "mid-air"
poops, in that it was shorter, fatter, and had a pointed top like a soft serve ice cream cone. But with a little more creativity, I was able to turn the poop pile into a kitty cat, using the pointy top as one of its ears. Robert and I put the finishing touches on our re-mastered masterpiece, and then stood admiring our work.

I had done it. I had changed a crouching, male, pooping dog into a crouching, female dog having puppies that were landing on a cat. And other than the fact that it appeare
d like the original St. Bernard-looking dog was having Dachshund puppies, I thought it looked pretty good.

My wife even had to admit (after initially calling my idea the stupidest thing she had ever heard of) that at the very least, it reduced the amount of embarrassment, even if it didn't completely eliminate it.
And being careful not to discourage their artistic endeavors, the girls were strongly advised to be more particular about the subject matter of their art projects in the future.

31.
ORGANIZATION MAYHEM

My wife is an organizer. It's in her DNA. At least once a month, everything in our house must be violently uprooted from its happy home, and relocated to a new home, and new neighbors.

Being that we live in a fairly small house
, with limited closet and storage space, many of the objects in our house must coexist with other objects that are of a different species, such as the silverware/battery drawer or the crackers/bread/canned soup/mitten and hat cupboard.

This all works out fine until one day when you open what you thought was the silverware/battery drawer only to find that it has now become the pen/pencil/can opener/socks without a match drawer. And the silverware and batteries are not only moved to a new and mysterious location, but they have also been separated and given new roommates. So now, the batteries live in the battery/Christmas decoration plastic tub in the basement, and the silverware shares a home with the numerous phone chargers that no longer fit any of the phones that we own, in the silverware/obsolete phone charger/air freshener drawer
, located in the buffet in our dining room. I have yet to unravel the mystery of where the crackers, bread, canned soup, mittens and hats have been sent.

Now I'll admit that I'm not an organizer, so maybe I just don't understand the logic that goes behind these new location assignments, but I just can't see the reasoning in condensing the three overloaded cupboards we have in the kitchen, into two, and turning the third into a palatial palace for the iced tea maker and tea bags
, that we use once a year. It was as if she was making a shrine dedicated to the worship of cold brewed summer beverage makers.

It's not just the complete loss of knowing where everything is relocated to that bothers me, either. The lack of any kind of warning that a reorganization has taken place
, can cause grief as well.

One particular morning, I was painfully unaware that the day before, my wife had determined that all my clothes needed to be switched from my side of the dresser to her side, and her
clothes now lived on what used to be my side. Since I wake up an hour before my wife needs to, I usually get dressed in the dark, so as not to wake her. It wasn't until I actually got to work and punched in, that I realized that when I had reached into what I thought was MY drawer to grab a work shirt, I was actually grabbing and putting on a hot pink t-shirt of hers that said "SEXY LADY" in very sparkly letters across the chest . . . . . this is not something that the guys you work with will soon let you forget about. I can't imagine the abuse I would have received if they had seen the pair of panties that fate had determined I would be wearing that day.

32.
HELPFUL HOUSEHOLD TIPS

Here's a few helpful hints for the husband who likes to help out around the house, but is not quite as household savvy as he might think he is:

1. There is NO amount of liquid hand dish washing soap that is small enough, that it won't cause the dishwasher to erupt and flow suds all over the kitchen floor like a volcano.

2. You cannot double the oven temperature of a casserole in an attempt to cut the baking time in half, without resulting in an episode that involves flame, soot, and possibly a meet and greet with the local fire department.

3. If you are the intellectual type, like myself, you might think that applying deodorant to the dog’s armpits might make him smell less like a dog. And indeed, it does work for the short period of time between application, and the dog licking it off, causing vomiting and diarrhea all over the living room carpet.

4.  Using a leaf blower to speed up the task of dusting, doesn’t actually remove the dust from the house. It simply causes the dust to be airborne for a period of time, and makes all humans, cats and dogs sneeze until the dust has once again settled. It is also impossible to dust the shelf displaying your wife’s heirloom antique plates, without sending them crashing to the floor
.

33.
VICIOUS CYCLE

There is a vicious cycle in this house that cannot seem to be broken. It goes something like this.

1. Child obtains a small rodent of varying size and specie.

2. Child convinces us she will take care of it, if we purchase the cage, food, bedding, etc.

3. Over the course of weeks or months, the rodent and its domicile become nothing more than a piece of furniture or clutter in the child’s room, and begins to emit the familiar odor of cage neglect. Upon investigation, parent finds out that the rodent's food supply had run out two weeks ago, and child has been feeding it various items from the fridge, half of which, the rodent doesn't care for, so it rots and further adds to the familiar odor of cage neglect.

4. Parent says, "I've had enough
!", and forces child to set free, give away or pray in earnest that the rodent dies. The cage goes with the rodent to its new home, or is gotten rid of if the rodent ends up going to be with the Lord.

Several months pass...

1. Child obtains a small rodent of varying size and specie.

2. Child convinces us that she will take care of it, if we purchase the cage, food, bedding, etc....

34. THINGS TO DO WHILE YOUR WIFE WATCHES HER DUMB SHOWS

I've never been a huge fan of dancing or watching dancing. Nor am I a fan of watching bachelors, and bachelorettes try to pick a suitable mate. So it is no surprise that I don’t like watching TV shows that are about these things. It would even be fair to say that
, for me, being in the room while these shows are on, can be quite painful.

Yet, I do like to be with my wife and daughters each evening while they intently watch their shows. I know it’s not what you would call top-notch family time, but at least we are together.

At any rate, over the different shows many seasons, I have developed some things I can do while I'm sitting there enduring them. I will now share them for the benefit of any other husbands who find themselves in the same predicament.

1. The natural choice of time killing activities, is to see how long you can get away with making fun of, and impersonating things that happen, and are said on the show. This can also include doing dances that involve shaking your booty and making fart noises in front of the TV, blocking everyone's view.

2. Eat a Kleenex. It's not very tasty, but does occupy your mind, and gives one a sense of accomplishment. Once you've mastered the eating of a Kleenex, you can up the ante, and try a bowl of dog food, or a tube of toothpaste.

3. Make the cat attack show watchers with the aid of a laser pointer, which most cats will chase with ferocity.

4. For the night's that seem more torturous than normal, I will see how many thumb tacks I can stick into my body without making a sound. One night while I was playing this game, my wife actually thought that the tears running down my face were due to her favorite dancer getting a low score. She expressed how touched she was that I was so concerned about well-being of "her" star.

5. And finally, one of my favorites, on night's when the wife and girls are more focused on the show than usual, I will very discreetly see how many items of clothing I can remove without anyone noticing. I've not yet made it all the way down to only my underwear.

A hint though, for some reason, they will notice your shirt being gone before they notice that you are sitting in your underwear, so if you are shooting for total number of clothing items removed, go for the socks and pants before the shirt.

35. THE VIOLENCE OF PASSIVE AGGRESSIVENESS

My wife and I have a system by which we can communicate to one another without having to clutter things up with words and feelings and such. Whenever one of us has been angered by the other, we let that person know we are upset by doing things that we know will annoy them back.

For instance, just last night as my wife was beginning to make dinner, I grabbed the orange juice jug from the refrigerator, and at a moment that I thought she was preoccupied with the food, I tried sneaking a gulp. But just as the jug was at the apex of the proper chugging position, she turned and caught me. There was a flash of disapproval in her eyes.

Knowing that she hated my drinking out of containers, my juice sampling would be considered an
act of aggression on my part . . . . . a slap in the face. But she said nothing, so maybe it hadn't really occurred to her what had happened.

Twenty minutes later, my wife called us to dinner and we all sat down at the table.
Tonight was spaghetti night, one of my favorites, and it smelled wonderful. However, my joy did not last long. As soon as I put the first fork full into my mouth, I knew that she had noticed the orange juice incident, and had struck back by purposely under cooking the spaghetti noodles . . . . . A kick to my shins.

She knows that this food crime is one of my pet peeves, and I was angry. It is important though, for us to not show any signs that we are upset during one of these silent battles. It would almost be the same as surrender, so I smiled and told her how delicious it was
, as I chewed on the leathery pasta.

She had gone
too far by ruining dinner, so I purposely let the spaghetti sauce accumulate around my mouth until it was nearly dripping off my chin. This not only irritates her, but grosses her out as well. And then for good measure, I reached over and grabbed a dining room window curtain and wiped my face, instead of using the napkin provided . . . . . the ol' one two punch.

I could see
the fury well up inside her . . . . . it was on!

"I organized your work shop today" (that was a hard blow to the head
, even if she had just made it up, because she knows my workshop is off-limits to her organizing)

But I came right back at her with a pleasant, "that's nice dear. Hey kids let's have a burping contest!" (
A direct disobedience of the table rules)

"Yes, that sounds fun" she said, having trouble hiding her anger, "and the winner gets to play with dad's sockets and wrenches in the bathtub tonight".

"The loser gets to give herself and mom a makeover with mom's makeup!" (A nice jab on my part)

"And then we'll all give dad's Star Wars toys a new look with some finger nail polish!" (.... wait..... what?)

I reeled from the impact of that last karate kick to the head. My vintage Star Wars action figure collection was sacred. I began to sputter, and I drew a blank on how to hit her back. I had used up my arsenal, but I couldn't let her win, or get away with bringing my action figures into the fight. So I did the only thing that came to mind..... I spit my mouthful of food onto the middle of the table, and then I took a baby carrot from the vegetable tray, and stuck it up my right nostril.

Both of my daughters squealed with delight and spit their food on the table.

Her eyes became like two long, sharp daggers that reached across the table, and began to carve obscenities on my face, and then she silently got up and left the table.

I had won the fight. The food spitting and nostrilized carrot had been the knock-out blow! I grabbed a second carrot and stuck it into the other side of my nose in celebration
, and did a victory lap around the table.

But
I knew from experience, that it would not be long before I would feel pretty bad about being a jerk and end up apologizing, so I relished every moment of my victory end zone dance around the table, even knowing it was not to be long lived.