She Only Like It If It’s Brand New

We have officially bid farewell to Los Angeles.

Before we’ve even settled into our new digs, MM(Mommy Moneybags) has already made me mad. First of all, I consider myself the Michelangelo of fine homemade vegetarian cuisine. I can slice, dice, and grill an olive oil soaked eggplant to buttery perfection. On a nightly basis I attack summer veggies with an enthusiasm unknown to mankind. To truly turn the underappreciated produce aisle into a magical wonderland of taste and aromas, all I need are a few simple things:

My Music:

Anita Baker for something sweet.

Jamiroquai for something savory.

Kendrick Lamar for something spicy.

My Wine:

In the words of the great Julia Child,

“I enjoy cooking with wine, sometimes I even put it in the food.”

My Knives:

A true culinary genius knows you can’t make magic happen without the proper wand.

So as I began to prepare our inaugural feast, a delicious combination of tempeh, orzo, tomato, squash, and mushrooms, with garlic, fresh basil and spices; my knives are nowhere to be found.

“Babe, which box did you pack my knives in?”

“Babe??”

“MONEYBAGS!”

She could hear me. She was standing only a few feet away from me this entire time. I knew what the silence meant. I could feel my black skin turn red. “The Garbage Lady” as I’ve called her on occasions such as this, has struck again. MM has this habit of tossing out old(er) things that work perfectly fine. Some of the things could use a little fixing up and probably deserved to be tossed but a lot of perfectly good stuff seems to get mixed into her purges. MY perfectly good stuff. Typically she gives me a notification that turns into a discussion. A discussion that turns into a debate. A debate that turns into an angry husband who doesn’t want to argue about it anymore regardless of the fact that he’s right and we already spend too much money on things that don’t need to be replaced!

“We threw them out”

“We” she said. She knows I’m mad. Why else would she divide the blame amongst herself and someone else. My mind has settled on her BFF Sunshine as her partner in this crime. While I’m thankful that Sunshine has been such a wonderful friend to my wife and was willing to sacrifice her weekend to help us pack, she will be receiving some stink eye.

“We need new ones anyway”

No we don’t. They were great. Sure the knife holder was a wooden lysteria infested block of trash but the knives were fine! All they needed was a quick vinegar rub. Perhaps a minute or two in the hot oven. Maybe a hospital surgery room sterilization just to be certain but they were perfectly fine!

“We’ll buy all new ones”

There she goes with we again. Implying that she uses them. Implying that we share this frustration. Implying that we wanted new ones. Well you know what we’re eating? Cheap pizza. Hmph!

My beautiful wife, my queen, has this thing about getting new stuff. I fight her on it but the new stuff is always awesome. When she has her heart set on something the old item quickly becomes obsolete. Often times the old garb is eliminated before it’s been replaced. So as we welcome our second child into the world this fall, I can’t help but worry about the future of our current one. I’ll probably need to hide him in the garage like I should have done my knives. She’s a spectacular mother and she’ll be great as a mother of two, but old habits die hard. Hell, I should probably hide myself in the garage too. You never know when she might look at me with my graying hair and crankier disposition and say to herself, out with the old and in with the new.

…Yes, we’re having a(nother) baby

THREE THINGS:

Thing I learned today – The first pregnancy was scary. Really scary. I remember being constantly worried about the future. With experience brings confidence. I’m really enjoying it this time around.
Random Thing – I live in the countryside for the first time in my life. I’m really enjoying it. This might be the place I want to settle down. Until the hipsters get here of course.
Sports Thing – Stephen Curry is really struggling. I think I know why…

…kryptonite indeed.

Thank you very much for stopping by. This is the twenty-first Daddy Day By Day. The way things are looking, there will be many many more. If you have any questions, rants, feelings, anything positive, please feel free to email me at daddydaybyday@gmail.com or simply comment be

My Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

I used to date this super sexy girl who like most super sexy girls, was crazy. She had a few wild ideas but the one that will always stick with me is that she wanted 5 kids. After only a few weeks of dating she revealed to me that she had dreams of a big house with a white picket fence that she could fill up with what amounts to a litter. Needless to say, I ran for the hills.

My son is awesome, but he’s kicking my ass. I may be winning our daily battle of wills but these new grey hairs tell the real story. Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat fearing the day MM presents to me another urine soaked tube with a pink plus sign on the end of it. Most of my friends and family have multiple kids. Some seem to be trying to build a small army. They just can’t help themselves. They all seem happy but at the same time I can’t help but remember what this one guy at the gym told me about a year ago,

“Me? I have two. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you need to have two.”

Then there was this guy I worked with who had three kids. This is what he had to say,

“Two is tough, really tough. But three? That’s just stupid. You’re always outnumbered. You better hope your oldest kid is old enough to make his own sandwich.”

The horrors of having multiple children were on display this past week at the park. A place that has become a free parenting workshop every time we’re there. On this particular trip the lesson began immediately. As soon as we arrived I saw one of the other guys I often talk to, I call him Specs. We, midday Dads, always gravitate to each other out of solidarity and fear. Fear that if we don’t huddle together in the corner we’ll get trapped talking to the other Moms about nutrition and poop. As oppose to what we want to talk about, sports and poop. I quickly walked over to Specs and Donny ran over to his son, Ry. I hadn’t seen Specs in quite a while because of what was tightly strapped to his chest: a beautiful 6-month old baby boy. Before the word “congratulations” could fully get out of my mouth Donny began to cry. He and Ry who usually got along handsomely seemed to be in some sort of conflict. Ry always brought his three big dump trucks to play with in the sand and had always shared them with Donny, but not today. In fact when Donny picked one up Ry quickly snatched it out of his hand and ran away to hide it. Donny was confused and upset. Specs half-called after his son while also telling Donny it was ok and that he could play with the other trucks. Donny picked up the second dump truck. Ry immediately returned with a scowl and snatched the second truck out of Donny’s hand. Specs again chastised his son who simply ignored him and hid the second toy. Specs apologized to me while telling Donny he could play with the last dump truck remaining. I could feel a bit of embarrassment in Specs’ voice. I assured him it was ok. I’m learning that sharing might be more of a learned trait than an instinctive one. Donny picked up the third truck and I’m sure you can figure out what happened next. As Donny sat there feeling empty and alone I retrieved his monster trucks from my backpack and gave them to him. He was disappointed but he took his monster trucks anyway. As did Ry. Right out of Donny’s hand. Specs had enough. He raised his voice at Ry and demanded he stop and give Donny his trucks back. Ry responded by running away with Donny’s toys as fast as his 2-year-old legs would take him. Specs apologized and slowly pursued his once sweet and friendly son while trying to avoid waking the infant strapped just below his chin. To be honest he looked kind of silly. A grown man trying to quietly speed walk after a screaming child with another baby hanging off him like a exopregnancy. I saw him battle with Ry at the other end of the park while Donny not so quietly sobbed in the sand beside me. Luckily, I had more trucks. I’m a veteran Dad now and I’m prepared for everything. However, park peace would not be found on this day. To the right of us a little girl laid with her hair buried in the sand and began making sand angels. Her mother pleaded with her to stop. To the left a young rambunctious boy was kicking sand at two other children that were playing together. One of the children immediately started screaming from the sting of sand in his eyes. When things like this happen I always like to observe the parents. Such an uncomfortable situation that I was happy not to be involved with. I realized that I was surrounded by madness. My own son in front of me still bitter despite the fact that his trucks had all been returned. Children to the left of me with faces covered in sand. Both of them screaming with one Mom refusing to look in the direction of the other Mom who looked mortified and apologetic. A child to the right of me kicking and squirming in the sand disregarding the specific request from her mother to lift her hair out of it. I started to breakout in a cold sweat, only this time I was already awake.

I learned a lot that day. Multiple children, multiple issues, multiple reasons to quit while I’m ahead. Was this enough madness to crush any silly notion of wanting a second child? YES! I’M happy. I’M content. The problem is, I’M not making the decision. You see, that super sexy crazy ex-girlfriend became my super sexy crazy wife. Before we married I was able to talk her out of 5 kids. The problem is we never agreed to only 1 either. And now I think she’s got that crazy look in her eye. It’s probably just a phase but I’ll spend the next several weeks avoiding rom-coms, chocolate, and oysters just in case. MM may want another son, Donny may want a little brother, but my sanity may need a vasectomy. Then again, my Dad had 5 kids and stepped up to the plate for 2 more. He never seemed stressed out. In fact, my Dad was always a pretty happy and content dude. So maybe MM and I can come to some sort of compromise. I’ll let her get a puppy.

THREE THINGS:

Thing I learned today – Donny is turning into a very outgoing kid and he needs a playmate. Badly. And my old dog ain’t cutting it. If it was up to him I think he would welcome another child.
Random Thing – My Dad’s birthday is tomorrow. He passed away several years ago. I don’t remember exactly how many years ago because I don’t see the point in keeping track of things like that. I still find myself waiting for the day when I can look at my son without feeling a bit of sadness that my Father, Donny I, never got to meet his grandchild, Donny III. Happy Birthday Dad, from your son who still misses his Dad.
Sports Thing – With 73 wins and a(soon to have) Championship, The Golden State Warriors are factual the best team in NBA history. Eat it Scottie Pippen.

Thank you very much for stopping by. This is the nineteenth Daddy Day By Day. Lately I’ve had a real pressing urge to write a blog regarding the presidential elections currently taking place. Or maybe I’ll write a blog reviewing children’s movies. It could go either way. If you have any questions, rants, feelings, anything positive, please feel free to email me at daddydaybyday@gmail.com or simply comment below. Please click on one of the two “follow my blog” links on the right. For you mobile users the links are at the bottom of the page. Talk to you soon…

Wicked Game

She got me. Again. I believe the current score is Mommy Moneybags(MM) – 31 Me – 2. She got me again with a total setup question. She would later dispute that there was ever any type of setup, but I know better than that. It was something about how I would describe my life to a practical stranger blah blah blah I wasn’t totally paying attention. My answer was nonchalant and uninspiring. The traditionally stupid husband I am sat there smiling afterwards. Quite content with my doomed response. Like a mouse eating cheese off a trap. Calm and carefree, never hearing the snap or seeing the lever closing down on its neck.

I love my wife. I really really do. She’s in the running for Most Amazing Fantastical Thing I Can Call Mine award! She has a relaxed demeanor, she’s supportive, and above all else she’s smoking hot! She’s also brilliant, so when she decides to lure me into saying something stupid, its masterful. She picked the perfectly worded question. Not something simple and easy to navigate like, “does this dress make me look fat?” Do women still ask that question? We, men, over the decades have developed a catalogue of appropriate responses to that oldie but goodie. No, she threw me a curveball as gorgeous as she is. A question that had only two answers, my answer and the right one. When my answer was given, BOOM! She went all girl on me. A pretty girl, but girl. I paid for my simpleton answer for the remainder of the weekend. With each passing hour I tried to understand the difficulties of a beautifully crazy woman loving a charmingly stupid man. Thankfully MM likes me again. I think she even loves me. The least I can do is learn from these moments…

But I just can’t! Not this one! I still can’t wrap my head around the correct answer. Its been a week. Instead of trying to understand the un-understandable it would probably serve me well to stop writing about it and just enjoy it. It, being my sexy forgiving wife. The incredible woman who I somehow convinced to marry me. She may still give me some crazy girl behavior every now and again, but more often she gives me the perfect wife I always wanted. Peaceful, sensitive, loving, radiant and ravishing. My Valentine every day of the year. I kind of get why she was upset over the weekend. Sorta. Not really. I will screw this up again. I think if I just keep loving her as much as I do today, as much as I have everyday, she’ll keep me around forever.

I do think she’s setting me up again. Valentine’s Day is right around the corner, two days away actually. I haven’t gotten her anything. Not because I’m a complete idiot but because she told me not to. I usually do flowers, chocolates, cards, blah blah blah whatever is being sold in shades of pink and red. However, a few months ago we decided to stop giving cards altogether. They’re someone else’s words that just end up in the trash anyway and have you seen the prices for those small pieces of cardstock? Regarding the flowers and chocolates, she told me she doesn’t want them. The flowers, don’t get her started on that ridiculous Valentine’s Day special (2 dozen roses for $103.52 – yeah she did a fake order) and as for the chocolates… I ended up eating all the chocolate last year and past years. I was glad I bought her the good stuff: Godiva. I didn’t eat them right away of course. She just wasn’t that interested. This Saturday is Valentine’s Day and I’m doing what she told me to do. Nothing. Again I find myself content and carefree. Like a bear with a belly full of salmon, smiling and walking through the woods with his dumb unknowing nose breathing in his last breaths. Completely unaware of the trap ahead…again

“Life proceeds along a path, though the path is invisible. There is definitely a path for human beings that leads to absolute happiness…If we continue to advance along this road without abandoning our faith, we will definitely come to savor a state of life in which all our desires are fulfilled both spiritually and materially.”

-Daisaku Ikeda

THREE THINGS:

Thing I learned today – We’ll know by Sunday if I’ve learned anything at all
I used the adjective “crazy” to describe my wife in this blog. And I meant it. Almost as much as I meant “Amazing Fantastical Mine Relaxed Supportive Smoking Hot Brilliant Gorgeous Pretty Beautifully Crazy Sexy Forgiving Incredible Perfect Peaceful Sensitive Loving Radiant Ravishing.” She’s pretty cool.
If you’re reading this MM, I just want to point out that I seriously have nothing for Valentine’s Day. Sooo…tell me now if I need to make any corrections. Please.

Thank you very much for stopping by. This is the fourteenth Daddy Day By Day. Yeah, it’s a V-Day blog. If you have any questions, rants, feelings, anything positive, please feel free to email me at daddydaybyday@gmail.com or simply comment below. Please click on one of the two “follow my blog” links on the right. For you mobile users the links are at the bottom of the page. Talk to you soon…

Ebony & Ivory

“Is he yours?”

This question came from our new housekeeper. “Why is he so white?” That was posed to me by a coworker. “Can you believe this is his baby?” That beauty was uttered by a family member as she presented my son to her friend. This in small part has been my fatherhood experience. I’ve tried my very best not to let statements such as these bother me but how do you react when someone asks whether or not your son is yours? Or whether or not your wife is white? As if it matters. Or as if it is even a possibility that she couldn’t be. Look at the boy! As frustrating as it can be to navigate through these conversations I must remember to focus on the important things. The things I need to learn immediately to raise and protect my very awesome and pale child. Two things in particular stand out to me.

Sunscreen. I know nothing about sunscreen. What isle is it on at Walgreen’s? What’s the better brand, Copperstone or Banana Boat? What does SPF stand for? MM has continued our vegetarian cloth diapering hippie style child raising way by buying him vegan sunscreen. Seriously. It’s fragrance free, vegan, contains no gluten, soy, oat or dairy. Is that stuff usually in there?!? Sunscreen sounds delicious. It also does not contain any harmful chemicals as defined by the EWG. MM is smart and does her research so I’ll have to trust that this is good stuff. It better be for the ransom they charge. That 6 ounce bottle of sunshine repellent cost about as much money as it takes to run this blog. It’s so rich that when I put it on him he resembles a wet powdered donut. I’m probably putting too much on him but I can’t help it. I’m paranoid. I’ve never had to think about skin damage from the hot sun. As I discover more information I’m learning that I should be more mindful of it. According to the Skin Cancer foundation, in African American skin, melanin, provides a sun protection factor equivalent to 13.4 compared to 3.4 in white skin. 3.4? That’s almost nothing at all. Needless to say I worry about the sun damage to his skin far more than I’ve ever worried about mine.

Another big difference between he and I is our hair.

Look at it. It’s like a second child. Totally wild and independent of the kid it rides on. When he was born it was long and flat. Easy to manage. As he has gotten older, long thick looping curls have emerged. His hair is starting to become the perfect blend of me and his mother’s hair. But now what? I’ve never had hair like his. I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had to deal with curls this long. Mine are nice and tight. Wavy on a good day. My hair does what it’s told. When I get a haircut my hair will obey me for at least 5 or 6 days with minimal maintenance. His hair is different every morning. It tangles and snags on the teeth of the comb. There’s a section in the back that refuses to lay down. Then there’s the issue of getting it cut. Where do I take him? We can’t go to my barber. My barber is highly skilled and trained in all the latest styles and techniques of fine Black male grooming. He is an artist. When Saturday rolls around he becomes Michelangelo and my head the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. But that’s my hair. What about Donny? Has my barber ever cut a loose curled brunette like my son. It might be equivalent to asking Larry the cable guy to read Tagalog. And don’t even get me started on style. When I was a kid I rocked a hightop fade. I couldn’t possibly shame him like that. Not in 2014.

Sunscreen, hair, Black G.I. Joe vs. White ones. Very small and insignificant things to figure out. To be honest I’m not that worried about it. What I really think about are the questions he will undoubtedly begin to ask. Questions about his own identity. “Why is Mommy white? Why is Daddy Black? Why are you `different`? What am I?” The truth is he’s neither. He’s human. He’s an individual. The only one of his kind. He’s a being with a brain, a heart, and emotions. Capable of deciding to be whatever or whoever he wants to be. The world will always try to categorize him and file him as a certain “type.” For no other reason than, that’s the way it’s always been. I always hoped that it would be my generation who would change that. However, some days I feel we have moved backwards. Perhaps his generation will finally be the one to remove all the labels and skin color bull– and see each other as what we truly are. People. All struggling and fighting to attain the same thing, happiness. If he must be labeled in some way that the world will understand then like his mother and father he is an American. In nationality and ethnicity. “Mixed” is the way you describe a cake. Not a beautiful baby boy with all the potential in the world.

THREE THINGS:

Thing I learned today – Did you see it up there?!? Sun Protection Factor. SPF!
Sports Minute – FOOTBALL SEASON IS ALMOST HERE. I know its fake football but I still love the preseason. So much hope and enthusiasm. When you’re a Raiders fan hope is all you got. Time to get Donny a new set of Raiders pajamas.

Thank you very much for stopping by. This is the fifth edition of Daddy Day By Day. Already working on the next one; Donny’s first bully experience. If you have any questions, rants, feelings, anything positive, please feel free to email me at daddydaybyday@gmail.com or simply comment below. And please follow my blog. I’d really appreciate it. Talk to you soon…

Shots! Shots! Shots!

Like any first time father I am completely in awe of my son. I think he’s good-looking, funny, and a very quick learner. One of his more impressive qualities is his ability to “chill”. To just “kick it”. It’s one of the qualities that made me fall in love with Mommy Moneybags(MM). But let’s be honest, he gets it from his daddy. He seems to adapt well to whatever environment he finds himself in. As long as it’s not his Aunt Skegee’s house. Donny likes to save his crying fits for the date nights that she babysits. Fortunately, she doesn’t seem to mind. His amazing adaptation skills were on full display when we took him to a bar. Before you judge, I didn’t know it was a bar at first. A good friend of mine was celebrating his birthday at a nice spot down by the beach. Just a few steps away from the sand. He knew I would have my son with me so I assumed he was inviting us to meet him at a classy respectable establishment. Where children were free to run and play while their parents smiled, drank tea, and paid limited attention to them. Like a Chuck E. Cheese’s or Target. My friend’s parents were even going to be there. Like everything else at a beach, parking was expensive and a pain. In the parking lot it was a struggle to dodge all the assorted beachbums. Surfers, dreadheads, and bikers were everywhere. One hippie after another continued to stagger out in front my car as I searched for a spot. When we finally made it to the restaurant I had no hesitation going inside. It looked like a restaurant. There were tables outside, people were eating, children were smiling, dogs were begging. Then we went inside. It was noisy, crowded, and had a huge bar in the middle with lots of obscure sounding beers on tap. What good restaurant doesn’t have these things? I quickly found my buddy with his parents and the conversation and laughter began. By the time MM realized that we were in fact in a bar it was too late to leave. I had already ordered a burger and had a cold beer in hand. I was commited. My first instinct was to leave. I thought Donny couldn’t possibly be enjoying himself here. But when I really stopped to see how he was responding everything seemed ok. It was a beautiful day, we were by the beach, and Donny had already adapted to the bar scene. MM and I took turns holding Donny while sharing a scrumptious black bean burger and beer. Naturally my boy was hamming it up. Flirting with every woman who walked by. Flashing his signature grin and staring with his pretty eyes that seem to charm everyone he meets. It was turning out to be a really nice afternoon. A relaxing sunday with friends. Plus I had an excellent little flirty charming…umm…buddy with me. MM would prefer I not think of him as a wingman. However, there was one misstep. As the noise level grew we decided to go ahead and retire to the beach. As I waited to pay and tip our polite and hardworking waiter MM decided to take Donny outside. That’s when he lost his cool. Like a drunken frat boy Donny reached out and grabbed the hair of the prettiest girl he saw. He yanked and wouldn’t let go. How could I have let this happen? How could I let so much time pass without teaching him the finer points of being a gentleman. At least the basics; Compliment her dress, be polite to her parents, never grab her hair. But it was too late. The deed was done. The only thing left to do was walk over and take one for the team. The impending open-handed slap across the face. As I started toward them I could see her turn around to confront her attacker. To stare into the eyes of this brute whose father had clearly failed to teach him any manners. She turned and peered deeply into his bright blue eyes while simultaneously slowly turning into mush. Seconds later it was all giggles and baby talk. She thought it was adorable! Man, this kid gets away with everything.

When I reflect on that afternoon, I do think of all the life lessons there are to teach him. There are so many that I fear I’ll never have time to teach him all that I know. In this case, how to treat the opposite sex. I made plenty of mistakes when I was young. Mistakes that could have easily been prevented. Perhaps with guidance and knowledge as well as setting expectations for his behavior, he won’t make those same mistakes. We’ll start with the basics. When we are out we shall always hold the door and let MM enter first. We’ll introduce ourselves confidently with a smile and a handshake. And we will NEVER EVER freely yank on a woman’s hair.

THREE THINGS:

Thing I learned today – There’s this growing opinion that double spacing after periods is incorrect and unnecessary. I’ve even heard it described as rude. But it’s what I’ve always been told. Sold to me as truth. I decided to try it for this post. It feels so wrong. Do any of you have an opinion on this rising controversy?
MM and I never fight. Seriously we don’t. We didn’t decide not to ever fight, we just don’t. It’s pretty cool. However, there is something brewing. A possible rift between us…over apple juice. Lately the room has chilled whenever those two words are uttered. Maybe I’ll write about it in further detail.
Sports Minute – I owe an apology to Jurgen Klinsmann and the US men’s soccer team. At times they played pretty good. There were some bad mistakes but overall I thought they looked good. They still only went 1-2-1 but it gives me hope for the future of US soccer.

Thank you very much for stopping by. This is the fourth edition of Daddy Day By Day. A very delayed post due to the World Cup. I have a serious sports addiction. If you have any questions, rants, feelings, anything positive, please feel free to email me at daddydaybyday@gmail.com or simply comment below. Talk to you soon…

My Chick Bad

Thursday started like any other day, but ended like no thursday before it. Taking the dog out at night is my job seven days a week. So when Mommy Moneybags(MM) randomly decided to relieve me of that duty Thursday night, I should have been suspicious. I was not. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the merciless beating I was giving her in gin rummy. When I began to wonder what was taking her so long I heard our dog bark, then yelp, then whine. I jumped up from my seat and hurried to the door fist clenched and prepared to defend my woman. I was panicking a little. I always trust my dog to protect my family when I’m not around. He’s a 80 pound pit bull mix with the bark of a lion. Yes, I understand lions are cats but I’m trying to paint a picture here. He’s a wild animal. An untammed beast. Something or someone outside had reduced him to a squirrel. As soon as I reached the door a tall shadowy figure emerged. The first thing I noticed were his weapons. Numerous metallic canes tucked behind him in a bag. He also carried another bag that he dragged behind him on wheels. Similar to a rolling suitcase. Exactly like a rolling suitcase. It was a rolling suitcase. Then I saw his face. The evil smirking face of my best friend, Doc. At that point everything became a blur of shock and confusion. I stood there with my mouth open babbling trying to make sense of why he was at my front door at 10PM on a Thursday 500 miles from home. Before my brain could put together anything close to an intelligent sentence MM handed me an envelope. It was an early Father’s day card. Inside was a golf resort reservation confirmation. Tucked behind that was a golf reservation for Saturday, and behind that a reservation for Sunday. All for two. MM and Doc were in cahoots! The following morning she sent us on our way with my favorite spirit and a smile. Happy (early) Father’s day indeed!

I keep asking her why she did this for me? Why is she so damn good to me? I would have been happy with a tie. A nice lunch. A pan of her moist delicious banana bread would have been sufficient. Her response has remained the same, “because you deserve it.” This is my wife. She’s smart, kind, she’s completely selfless. The only one she seems more devoted to than me is our son. And she can bake a mean banana bread! My chick is bad! We may not have the most money, or toughest dogs, and certainly nothing resembling a cool active social life, but we have each other. I have her. I can’t imagine a life better than this one.

This past weekend I didn’t change Donny’s diapers. Not once, for three whole days. I didn’t mix up a bottle, I didn’t clean up a mess, and the only clothes I changed were my own. I did play golf, poorly. I also ate my food while it was hot, drove fast, and drank too much for three whole days. Last weekend I was not living the Dadlife. I was living the fun irresponsible life of my 20s. I imagine there’s some Dad out there reading this and wondering how this Dad could be so lucky. It’s actually really simple; marry the greatest wife in the world.

THREE THINGS:

Thing I learned today – Size doesn’t matter. Donny’s six tiny teeth feel like a full-grown piranha on my finger.
MM likes to dump her sweaty gym bag out on the couch in the morning and leave it there. We were made for each other.
Sports Minute – Heat in 7 but I don’t feel good about it.

Thank you very much for stopping by. This is the third and completely unplanned edition of Daddy Day By Day. I’ll try to have another one out for Father’s Day but it might be little late. If you have any questions, rants, feelings, anything positive, please feel free to email me at daddydaybyday@gmail.com or simply comment below. Talk to you soon…