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Because I’m A Procrastinator
June 21, 2010 by NaysWay · Leave a Comment
I had no idea what to get my husband for Father’s Day. Remember me saying that? Well. Father’s Day came and went, and I still had no idea what to get my dear, curmudgeon of a long-suffering husband. Taking into account we are actually going through a financial drought, I tried to be frugal and crafty all at the same time.
Problem is I am neither of those things, even on a good day.
It has been said, time and again, that in my relationship with BFam, I am the man. Not because I wear pants, or anything quite as cliche. But because he is sensitive where I am not. He is thoughtful where I am not. He is sentimental where… so let’s just all agree I am a tool. Not on purpose but I could certainly stand some improvements.
In an effort to get in touch with my frugal and crafty side (the one that is non-existent), I found a few gems that sum up everything I wish I could buy, give, or say to express to my best friend of thirteen years how glad I am that he puts up with his tool of a wife long enough to make babies with…
This is Mooter. She would pop less than two weeks after this photo was taken. BFam was 12.
Not really but, gosh, he sure looks it.
Did I ever mention BFam is shorter than me by at least two and a half inches? He’s so comfortable in his gnomeness.
Or comfortable in my Amazonianess. Either way, he could care less.
Except when his wife is calling him a gnome.
Them’s fighting words.
I’ve never seen a man take to babies like him. Watch your youngins around him. One look away and he’s got them in his arms.
Someone in my family made the subliminal comment that they didn’t have any family photos of us and would like one very badly. BFam, ever the recluse, offered this up in exchange.
We don’t do subliminal real well where I’m from.
He’s a great tamer of toddlers. He just has that way about him. Either that or he threatened this one within an inch of her life. It’s always so hard to tell with those two.
This was a hot, hot, hot hot hot hot hot hot hot day. There was nothing left to do, really, but pass out on a couch.
Did I mention it was hot?
Sorry BFam. There’s no escaping the camera. How else will I have enough to use in creating my gifts when I can’t think of anything for you?!
To my baby daddy and all the other fathers out there. You all deserve much better signs of appreciation and affection than we give you.
A day late,
The Tin Man
Somebody
June 3, 2010 by NaysWay · Leave a Comment
Somebody just got one year older.
Somebody is at home, copping an attitude because his wife didn’t take a vacation day today.
Somebody is a cranky, crotchety, curmudgeon of a man.
Happy birthday, fella.
The Measure of A Man
April 15, 2010 by NaysWay · 4 Comments
BFam is a good dad.
I don’t know if I tell him enough, but he is.
In our lives, we’ve both had less than great examples of fathers. I happened to get a reprieve in my grandfather, but there’s nothing like having the man in the house that helped in your creation.
The man you can set your watch to with their dependability.
The man who never gets tired of answering you, no matter how many times you ask “Why?”.
The man able-bodied enough to play a good game of Airplane, and not get tired.
Alright, maybe just a little tired.
The man who play-fights with you, because you’re a girl doesn’t mean you have to be a cream puff or pushover.
The man who calls you crazy when, after hours of walking, you ask for a piggyback ride.
Then carries you anyway.
The man you’ll use to measure all others.
FEAR No. 060 – Tough Love
April 6, 2010 by NaysWay · Leave a Comment
Friday morning, BFam was the only one of us unlucky enough to have to suffer through a day of work. I did everything in my power to make him stay home. But, when you work for a figurative prison such as BFam, your vacation and sick days are put in a hat where the masses are asked to take a chance and draw their lucky number. No one is ever really lucky.
The job is taking a toll on BFam. Two years ago, when he started there, his hair had begun to show slight strands of gray. Now, two years later, he is 65% white. He’s 34. Granted, he may have just been destined to gray early. Case in point:
This is his dad. He’s 53. If it weren’t for clippers and straight razors, this man would probably be completely white.
In BFam’s case, it is stress. I know it is.
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The (Almost) Good Friday
April 5, 2010 by NaysWay · 2 Comments
Last week, I got the itch. It’s the itch one only receives after suffering a months-long Winter season, followed by the indecisiveness that is Cleveland weather. Will it snow again? Will we get sun? Our Aprils always mean more snow. It’s God’s way of laughing at us. Ha ha ha, you Cleveland people and your hope for sun. Phooey! After the latest Forbes Magazine thrashing, God took pity on us and threw a little sun our way. IN APRIL! To explain the gravity of the affect of sun on a city that never receives it this early, dig if you will this picture: Remember in The Wizard of Oz, after Dorothy’s house lands on the Wicked Witch of the East, and all the munchkins of Munchkin Land come out of hiding because ding-dong the witch is dead (Which old witch? The wicked witch!)? And, at first, they’re a little apprehensive to come out because this has to be some kind of joke and they think they’re dreaming?
Welcome to a sunny day in April. In Cleveland.
I did a scan of the week’s weather just to see how long the goodness would stick around. Hoo-boy! All the way until Saturday! Good gracious o’ light! I could do a cartwheel, maybe even forgetting the years I have gone without doing cartwheels. This was a time to be celebrated. I took an impromptu day off from work and took my children, who already had the day off for Good Friday, to the park.
My kids don’t really know what Good Friday is. The fact that it was sunny in April, and we were at a park, was “good” enough for them. Of course, by Sunday, I’d have to explain its semblance to Mooter, at least, because there was all this talk of Jesus dying and did He die today? and why have I never heard this story? and oh, are you saying I have heard this story because I don’t remember it and what’s all this talk about a cross? and what do you mean the cross I made for you in Kindergarten was just like the cross Jesus died on? and why did I give that to you? and why did my school let me make an INSTRUMENT OF DEATH?!
You see how we spiral out of control very quickly over here.
So, instead of going into long, drawn-out theological explanations of the day, we celebrated another way.
We made new friends.
We slid down slides.
I said, we slid down–
Oh, there you are.
We climbed back up the slides again.
Then we got a call from BFam’s job that he’d just been carted off to the emergency room.
So much for Good Fridays.
[To be continued...]
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