The First Two Years… An Homage To Fatherhood

Pop and his best gal, Violet

For most of her life Violet’s pop, Serge, has been home with her while I worked as an executive producer at Fox News in Salt Lake City.

You can imagine the shock of transitioning from being in a band and traveling the world for something like twelve years, to being a stay-at-home pop to a tiny girl.

But he did it.  And he did it well.  Better than most, I’d say.

He chronicled his journey on his blog, Thunder Pie, and I can safely say he is the best “dad blogger” I’ve ever read.  Hell, he’s the best writer I’ve ever read.

I wanted to come up with a project, an homage to fatherhood, if you will.  And finally, I think I’ve done the trick.

Below are some of my all-time favorite photos of Serge and Violet that I’ve taken paired with bits from some of his blogs about her.  It may take you awhile to get through but it’s not something that needs to be read from start to finish.  Each photo and its accompanying paragraph are stand-alone.

I hope you like it, but mostly, I hope he likes it.

  • The Coast Of Life 1 of 43
    The Coast Of Life
    "There were some needles and medicines that Monica had to have to get stuff moving along. Needles for pain too. I kept thinking maybe someone would offer me a needle, just so it might make her feel a little better, like she wasn't all alone with that stuff. Nobody ever offered me anything though. At some point, between nurses whisper talking to Monica about dilating this and that, I fell asleep on the plastic couch. When I woke up, I peeled my face off the vinyl and rubbed the sand from eyes and I could tell right away we were closer to the new world. You could just feel it. The coast of life."
  • If It Rains On You I Will Shoot The Cloud 2 of 43
    If It Rains On You I Will Shoot The Cloud
    "Part of me really wants to wake up early one Saturday morning and walk up into the mountains to kill all the bears and the mountain lions. And the snakes. This, I would do so they never can bite Violet if she decides to go hiking or something. Then, on Sunday morning, I will head over to the airport and disassemble all the planes so they can't crash with Violet in them, or under them. Rivers and lakes: drained dry. Highways: jackhammer'd. If I let it, the list goes on and on."
  • I Miss You When You’re In The Other Room 3 of 43
    I Miss You When You're In The Other Room
    "So, on she sleeps. I poke around some fly fishing sights on the web; look at fish porn. These gray crappy days bring on the good Blue Wing Olive hatches. I wish I could get out to the river today. Thoughts of a quiet stretch to myself, of afternoon hatches. Thoughts of the summer days to come and the big caddis flies that cause brown trout to explode from the water with reckless greed. Awww hell who am I kidding? Thoughts of MAKE A GODDAMN PEEP ALREADY !!! Maybe you don't need me just this sec, butterbean. But I need you. Again."
  • The Ballad of Two Couch Potatoes 4 of 43
    The Ballad of Two Couch Potatoes
    "She is beginning to connect the dots that shape our world. Watching her eyes widen just before she lets out a sound, its almost as if I can see the soldering going on inside her baby brain, teeny wisps of smoke leaking from her ears. Sweet connections are being made over here and then over there as lines of current are opened for the very first time. I had never given it a moment of thought before, that life begins so beautifully: with swinging in the living room and mobile flowers and the sounds of a three-month old recognizing something or feeling excitement. Now its crammed into every nook of me."
  • The Itsy, Bitsy Spider 5 of 43
    The Itsy, Bitsy Spider
    "Her open eyes flutter, close, open, shut. I can see her watery eyeballs roll back into her eyelids. Then they pop open fast. But the verse is mystical and I am a snake charming medicine man with an itsy bitsy spider in my mouth. She is drifting. Off. To. Sleep. I don't dare stop the verse. Ten minutes go by and my daughter is asleep in my arms while I move around the room same as before, the very short song continuing to be sung at the same volume, same timbre, everything the same same same. I don't want to put her down. Finally."
  • I’m A Junkie For You Kid 6 of 43
    I'm A Junkie For You Kid
    "Sigh. It ain't in the books I bought, huh? I wasted my cash. Last night, I just held on for dear life, kept touching her tender face skin with my nose, kept whispering through the tempest. It didn't really do much. She freaked for a long long couple of hours. Finally she drifted off. I was proud and shaking. My mind was goose fat but I'd hung in there."
  • Ladies And Gentleman, My Face Is Melting 7 of 43
    Ladies And Gentleman, My Face Is Melting
    "An hour later, around 8, she finally passed out. I stared at her exquisite smallness as she breathed out and in over and over in my arms. We were both exhausted, our spirits water-logged. How could such a tender innocent three-month old ever pull off such an unholy display of terror? And oh the commitment. The hours of dedicated discomfort. Never giving in. Rarely giving up. What had it been, I wondered. Was it gas? An early tooth beginning to poke out? A full moon? No.No. And no. It was: the devil, plain and simple. And we beat him at his own game, Violet. All that legendary badness and you and me, we licked him. And we'll do it again when we need to, huh? Just give Daddy a couple of days, sweetheart. Please."
  • From A Couch In The Sky 8 of 43
    From A Couch In The Sky
    "I explained to her that its bonkers out there and that when she gets older she's going to have to make a lot of decisions every few minutes. Many of those can result in trouble, I told her. Kids do things that are silly sometimes, I said. Expect the unexpected. I felt a bit like an ass but I was all shot up with FatherHood. What the hell am I even saying, I wondered to myself. I pointed at the TV: look at this guy, I told her, you think he woke up a few hours ago and had his Captain Crunch guessing he was gonna be on CNN this afternoon getting truck-jacked and driven around like a hound dog on a summer back road?"
  • How To Be A Dad 9 of 43
    How To Be A Dad
    "I was in the middle of week 12, about where Violet is hanging out. And honest to God, I came across this sentence. "To keep her from swallowing too much air make sure she doesn't cry for too long." I read it again. I looked at the back of the book where the price was. $16.99. I read it again. Make sure she doesn't cry for too long? Did I miss that bit on voodoo? Did I just skip over the section on making tiny miracles happen?"
  • Dog Park 10 of 43
    Dog Park
    "We are alone here now, Mountain Daddy and Danger Violet. And we still have so damn far to travel. The late afternoon sun collapses down upon the tender green shoots and buds of early spring. Without each other we might not make it out of here. Our bleached white bones crinkle cut with a thousand coyote's teeth and laid out in these lush grasses for some half-drunk trapper to stumble on some other season long from now. Yet, we are not alone. We are together. And together by God we are determined to climb up out of this godforsaken canyon someday soon. Soiled but unbroken. Then, by the grace of so many unseen angels, we'll wander many many miles back to the homes we left long ago for reasons we can no longer even recall."
  • The Death Of Cool 11 of 43
    The Death Of Cool
    "I am hopelessly addicted to wondering if my daughter has poo'd. I know how very uncouth that sounds, trust me. But, I can't help it. Maybe its because at first Violet seemed so uncomfortable around me and I kept burying that reality under the false reasoning of: she's gotta poop. It's a little technique I picked up after years in a band van with four or five other daytime grumps for hours and hours on end. That snarl they were giving me as they fingered a sharp stolen salad fork as I glared at them in my rear view wasn't personal. They were backed up. No wonder they'd been acting borderline postal for the last 1400 miles. Now, as Violet and I are progressing nicely and she seems to be getting familiar with my goofy faces and stuff, I still find myself hoping she'll be dirtying her diaper sometime real real soon, but why? Have I finally lost my battle with basic coolness? I knew it was coming. Hell, everyone knew it was coming; I've been miles away from the cool pool and drip-drying fast for years now. But this?"
  • Moonwalkers 12 of 43
    "I poured my coffee and Moonwalked back in to my daughter. Lately, I've been hesitant to mention this to anyone in fear of jinxing it, but (whispering!) Violet has been really warming up to me! The previous few weeks of hellfire crying and discontent have so suddenly been replaced. Here now we've been having wonderous days of walking the dogs in a springtime canyon. Just the two of us looking up and talking about the snow-capped mountains and the robins and bluebirds and watching the dogs eat mossy sticks and swim in wild creeks."
  • I Will Pick You Up At Eleven/I Never Even Left 13 of 43
    I Will Pick You Up At Eleven/I Never Even Left
    "Gone are the toothless gums. And she sits up now on her own. She sits up and grabs at her bottle and leans back and guzzles her drink without any help from me, from us. In her room, you wander into the dusk back there and find her standing up/leaning against the slats, like she's leaning up against a pole on some lower Manhattan corner, looking out for her friends on a Friday night."
  • That’s My Kid Down There 14 of 43
    That's My Kid Down There
    "Lay her down on the floor and walk away a little. And watch. She flips over onto her knees and raises her chin and smiles easy at the world. Look at all this, she seems to be saying. Look at everything we've got here! Then she's off. At first, it's a few rev ups as her stubby pink legs dig their best into the hardwood. Then, she waddles her arms and runs her tiny fingers across the shiny boards in front of her. She giggles her practical joker giggle. She fires her milky engines. And she's off. Across the floor to grab a fist full of black lab/jingle some dog tags. She gets sloppy kisses back from the fellows and always looks both delighted and surprised as hell. I stare at all this sort of thing with my mouth open. Saucer eyes. I don't know quite what I'm seeing. That's my kid down there. She's creeping around and hobnobbing with big dogs. Jesus."
  • Mole, Ratty, Badger, Violet and Toad 15 of 43
    Mole, Ratty, Badger, Violet and Toad
    "Lots of smart people say: 'start reading to your baby early so she'll have a life-long love of books'. I don't know though. What I see isn't someone who will someday be curled up under a hundred year old autumn elm in some big city park, devouring SILAS MARNER or HIGH FIDELITY or anything like that. What I see is a squirmy prisoner in Pop-Lap Penitentiary. I watch her claw fiercely at the air, digging tunnels to freedom. She isn't interested in the sound of my babbling tale. She needs action. Craves life close to the bone, down on the rug, out on the floor. She needs escape. She wants searchlights, hellhounds, and pitch black stumbling through a wild wood. At this point, eating dust specks and dragging yourself over to the base of house ferns as tall as redwoods is all the education she wants or needs. Later on, soon enough, she'll use words and books to escape from a hundred little prisons. But, not just yet, I guess."
  • The Future Of Falling On Our Ass 16 of 43
    The Future Of Falling On Our Ass
    "Watching your kid pull her little bones/her sweet tiny heart/her country-plum of a brain up to vertical is probably not much different than lunch at The Hard Rock with God. There is so damn much to look at, to take in. And whenever you're ready, when you're done with all the Flying V's and the spray-painted records and the autographed posters from that Live Aid of yesterday: well, you can just sip from your big cold glass of ice and look into the eyes of The Messiah. Take your time. "
  • True Love 17 of 43
    True Love
    "I love WeeOne more than the dumb-ass cliches that say you will never know love until you have a child. I love her enough to wish I was more. More tender, more patient. More sane than the ex-rocker who used to huff Dust-Off in the back halls of a mall when other people were developing social skills and growing mentally and emotionally."
  • Needles 18 of 43
    There are three and they are fast. One. Explosion of crying. Two. Gagging, little crimson head sagging like a melted wax face. Three. The rampaging tears of someone desperately wondering why. Sting! Sting! Sting! And then they are done. The doctor is lightning fast; skills galore. She knows that the pricks will melt into one another if the timing is just right. The back-alley Villain jumping my daughter is thrown off a little by the quickness of the Super Hero. Right there in my arms, under my face, I watch as Violet gets so upset so fast, that her horror actually rolls over on its bad self and sort of dies in the face of all its evil plans. Violet cries really really hard for maybe a minute, then she bites into her Binky and looks deep into my eyes. Some sobs still trickle out of her. The doctor is long gone. She is probably ten needles into the future by now. We are simply ghosts to her. I kiss Violet's forehead.
  • Walking Kid 19 of 43
    Walking Kid
    "Its weird to watch your kid walk around for the very first time in her life. What do you do? I pep talked her, but not too much. I didn't want to distract her with praise. And also I was pretty shocked, to be honest. I couldn't really find many words to say. Violet walking across soft carpet without any help from me. I am so proud. But also, to be honest, it sucks a little too. She needed me to get around in this world. Now she needs me a lot less. "
  • Santa Lays His Eyes On A Little Grassy Knoll 20 of 43
    Santa Lays His Eyes On A Little Grassy Knoll
    "Saturday at WalMart, I put one in the cart. The suit. It was the last one in Violet's size and I wasn't taking any chances. Though, truth be told, there are probably people making them out of the back of every single WalMart there is huh? Just sitting there listening to classic rock or Mariachi radio, sippin' Mountain Dews, making little Santa suits: Dollar-A-Mile felt and white flimsy cotton whirled at breakneck speed; fingers like lighters flicking; the snipping snapping immolated hummingbirds of industry. Whatever. I wasn't taking any chances. I put it in the cart."
  • I Like The Taste Of Sweet Fern Dirt 21 of 43
    I Like The Taste Of Sweet Fern Dirt
    "Eating dirt from plant pots while I'm trying to whack her in the noodle with Nerf bricks. Munching on fistfuls of crumbly fern craps and fly wings and dog hairs and, Oh God...what else? How long have we had that freaking plant? There could be pot seeds in that soil. Hell, there could be old blow dust in there for all I freakin' know. Ugh. Love is so goddamn tricky. I don't wanna give a rat's ass if someone mainlines straight Miracle Grow. I really truly don't wanna care. It never would have phased me before. Eat scorpions dipped in deer blood. Whatever. I was free to not worry about anyone at all. But its just too late for all that now isn't it?"
  • Cary Me Down Afternoon Alleys 22 of 43
    Cary Me Down Afternoon Alleys
    "These days I am in the window though. Unmoving really, except for slight shifts here and there to keep my daughter from smashing through the pane. Flanked by bored dogs the two of us sit and tap the glass. We watch occasional cars pass. She likes seeing them, smiles a little. I do this new thing where I turn my head towards the outside then back to look at her over and over again til I think I might puke. She watches this with vigilant eyes. And like clockwork, thirty seconds in, she gets the joke and giggles right into me. I melt like cake in the sun. "
  • Morning People 23 of 43
    Morning People
    "In the morning, in the dark, I walk back to Violet's room and I find her standing up, leaning on the rail with highly advanced coolness: like Mick Jagger in the video for Waiting On A friend. We can barely make each others grins out without any light, but we see enough. I raise her up to me, pull her to my chest, and put her nose or her ear in my mouth and buzz her good morning with my flappy lips. She smiles at that and sometimes she laughs. Out in the living room, we hang out on the couch together. She squirms and tries to roll out of my arms. She doesn't think about where or why. She just wants to bust free. Let me go, she says without saying it. Let me fall on my head this morning. Let me get that out of the way already, this falling on my head stuff."
  • Please Stop Skedaddling From The Concert 24 of 43
    Please Stop Skedaddling From The Concert
    "When I do put on this Show Of Shows, I'm thinking I will put her in her high chair. That way she'll be unable to crawl away and embarrass me in front of My Lord. Or my dogs. Also, up in the chair her tiny face will be right level with my guitar hole. Then she won't stand a chance, huh? She'll be possessed by sweet melody. By subtle cadence. By the voice of a jackal. Anyways. This is me talking out loud. I'm nervous. But it'll be alright. For the first time in my life, if the crowd ain't paying attention, I can walk over and scoop her up from the crawl and start all over again. Until she is the best crowd ever."
  • The Other Side Of The Door 25 of 43
    The Other Side Of The Door
    "Watching things under a door, with only about an inch of vantage, is really something. You have to use so much of your imagination, to picture exactly what is going on in there, but you're also dictated quite a bit of the story just by the shadowy movements of feet, the sounds that slip out of people's lips when they are sure they are alone and forgotten. At one point, my daughter rams her head a couple times against her side of the door. When you're the parent you get used to having that extra sense that tells you: Yes, that particular thwap on the front window or echoing off of the dryer, yeah, that was your kid's head slamming around out there. Same here. As soon as she pops the door with her noodle I can tell it was a head butt. She does it twice more, then: no sound."
  • Long Western Afternoon Fort People 26 of 43
    Long Western Afternoon Fort People
    "Violet looks at me with a big smile and lets go of my thumb. I attack her with a Paddington Bear who is already chillin' there in the fort. She bursts into giggles. I pull in the SpongeBob drum and do some Indian beats, some war chants. Violet sticks her face into the corners of the tent and breathes her breath into them and I can tell she likes it when the thin walls flap and pop as her air moves in and out, the tent sticking to her lips and cheeks then falling away. Max comes in and pokes his head into the side port. "Wolf!," I cry. Violet is ecstatic and pulls the wolf's ear."
  • Every Day I Pause And You Pause Me Back 27 of 43
    Every Day I Pause And You Pause Me Back
    "Yesterday, me and Violet were laying on the floor in her room. That in itself is kind of cool because it isn't lost on me that in a few more years there will be no more of that horse crap allowed. Don't get me wrong: I'll try; when V's girls are all over after school and they're all jammed into her bedroom giggling and squelching, patting each others cheeks with strip mall rouge under posters of bands/unicorns/vampire romeos, I know I'll do one of those KNOCK-KNOCKs where you actually knock while you say "KNOCK-KNOCK" but in reality you were already inside the room with darting radar shooting out of your entire face long before the first vocal "Knock" was anywhere near complete. Then, I'll try and be the "cool" dad and sit down on the floor with the gang and start laughing at whatever it is they're laughing at already, even if I know deep down that, well, they're actually laughing at me...the TryHard in an XL Monsterface t-shirt. "
  • I’m Looking For You, Pops 28 of 43
    I'm Looking For You, Pops
    "What a sensation/what a feeling: the first time your kid comes into a room just to get you. I'm looking for you Pops, her grip says. I'm here for you. To haul your ass back to the playroom, or wherever. I smile inside and ask her where we're going. She doesn't answer or smile gappy teeth or look up at me with Question Mark Eyes. She doesn't say anything. She simply gets a hold of my thumb/turns directions/starts leading me to where she needs me to be."
  • The Bumblin’ Fumblin Prime Time False Poet Blues 29 of 43
    The Bumblin' Fumblin Prime Time False Poet Blues
    "I killed the Winnie The Pooh lamp so the room was only lit by the nightlight on the bookshelf. Everything was ready, man. Ready for that quickness that must shine when you're putting the kid to sleep. One fumble/one pause/one little chunk in the super-slick grease of tucking her in and the whole thing can just explode on you with unforgivable energy. Let her tap her head on the headboard or drop the bink down the side of the mattress where you can't find it for a sec and you might as well have leaned down into her drifting sleepy eyes and touched her nose-to-nose and let out one of those blood-curdling Middle Eastern Street Fighting Yelps you sometimes hear in the dusty background on CNN."
  • Dust and Wires 30 of 43
    Dust and Wires
    "Saturday morning: I am sitting on the couch in front of the big screen TV, poking around Facebook. At my feet my daughter Violet alternates between convulsive dancing in front of Dora The Explorer as she sings the same damn song again and sneaking around to the wall behind the television to peer at the wires and cables that make it all happen. She is looking for Dora. It hits me all at once. She is looking for the characters! Oh the sweet sauce of life. It dribbles down through my veins and bones like that first sip of beer after a long day's drive. Oh sweet little girl, looking behind the TV for the cartoon characters up on the screen."
  • The Legendary Lunch Gang Rides Again 31 of 43
    The Legendary Lunch Gang Rides Again
    "I put down tiny flecks of turkey meat so small that Violet looks at me like, WTF? But, I am a careful daddy who refuses to go through that whole choking thing too easily. I know it'll happen. It always does. Kids eat stuff fast and all wrong and before you know it they're gacking away and you have to pick them up and try and save them. What can you do. I serve thinly sliced meats at my deli. You can see through them. And they are never bigger than a Cheerio because that's what the books about raising kids say to do. I break toddler Cheeto snacks into dust piles. Here, I tell my daughter, have some cheese dust. Try choking on that. If I could slice the milk into slivers, I would do that too. I admit it. So what."
  • The Bike 32 of 43
    The Bike
    "When I get Violet on the bike, I make Harley sounds because that's what you do. You rev the plastic grips of the handlebars, so that the red and white streamers hanging there look like they're blowing in a bum-rush of desert wind. I rev it up hot and loud like a Warlock at a stoplight. The kid loves it. She looks back at me with her Question Mark Eyes, smiling halfway, seeing if its ok to smile. I smile big at her and blow hot air from my mouth down through her curls, like pipe exhaust/like motorcycle gusts, and then she opens her mouth wide and grins so wide that I can see every little white nub in her mouth for a beautiful moment or two."
  • The Hot Western Summertime Tree Trunk Blues 33 of 43
    The Hot Western Summertime Tree Trunk Blues
    "Violet plays with her pebbles. She finds a little boy's pair of leathery sandals in the wood chips over by the fake rock steps and she starts to talk to them in Siberian or whatever language she talks and the whole thing is like some weird Bible scene with a lost kid and sandals and pebbles in the desert. I resist the longing to pop out and do one of my dances and I think maybe it's because I'm scared. Those dances work good in the kitchen, on the linoleum, when she's strapped into her highchair behind a small pile of Pizza Goldfish. She smiles at my dumbass spins and Travolta Points then. But here, out in the day, with the full sun shellacking our skins, I get scared she ain't gonna give two craps if I pop out from behind some distant tree. I'll be just another heat mirage shimmering into the ether while she's giddy and stoned on this independence that has settled down upon her teensy park life."
  • Anything’s Possible, Kid 34 of 43
    Anything's Possible, Kid
    "I strap the kid into her seat. She's so young, so small that the damn thing still faces the backseat. She lets go of a high pitch squeal as I strap her in. I smile at her. I push her button nose. Damn, anything's possible for you, I think to myself. Then, I ponder it. The wild and wonderful trail ahead of her. Take me with you, I whisper, all selfish and all."
  • Summertime 35 of 43
    "Summer sweat dripping from my new shorter haircut. Violet saying a word or two. Maybe the dogs jumping some quail from their little hideaway in the slender shade. I'll look over at the mouth of the canyon a few miles down, and tell V about all the beautiful big trout that live in the river back up in there. I'll imagine myself, come Saturday, taking off early in the morning to chase them. We'll watch the setting sun while Mom is at work. "
  • The Bouillabaise Kid 36 of 43
    The Bouillabaise Kid
    "I watch as Chef Violet flings a fried cupcake into the microwave, slams the door shut, hits some buttons, takes it out again, and drops it straight into the hole where her sink used to be. She cackles at her burners and aims her wood spoon at the boiling crab like Jesse James. I ease her a hard plastic tart. She pings it off the counter top so that it flies off across the kitchen. She speaks in tongues at the brown fish. She hits the spoon against the faucet and puts a whole eggplant into the dishwasher. I hand her a cabbage and an ice cream cone. She plops them into her percolating broth. I get all giddy. At three-thirty on a weekday afternoon, a two year old takes plastic food from me and I light up like a pickle jar of headlights."
  • Papa Was A Soldier For Rome 37 of 43
    Papa Was A Soldier For Rome
    Violet stares at the trout. She giggles. He gasps evenly for his liquid breath. She touches his nose. I let him kiss her and she likes that a lot. She touches his small mouth and he seems to let her. Or at least he doesn't seem more pissed. The whole scene takes a few seconds and I tell her to say goodbye to him and she picks up a pebble and loses interest. With a heart made of thanks, I set him down gently to swim away forever.
  • Pancake Papa’s Crowbar Memory Blues 38 of 43
    Pancake Papa's Crowbar Memory Blues
    "I try and guess when my daughter's first real memory will burn itself into her mind. Will she be three or four, or older? Will I be in it? I wanna be in it bad. I want her first memory to be her father, standing mid-stream, his fly rod arc'd, a silvery trout the size of a hanging provolone dancing across the shimmering ripples. Or I want her to remember a Christmas morning where Dad and Mom come into her room just as she's beginning to stir. We lift her out of bed and set her down and take her hand and lead her out into the living room where we've already cut the lamps so that only the lights on the tree illuminate the world. Magic reds and blues and yellows and greens glinting off the garland, sparking off the tinsel. I want her breath to flip over on itself as effervesence shoots through her heart like a jar of lightning."
  • Observations From Today 39 of 43
    Observations From Today
    "Took my daughter to the doctor this afternoon. Long drive. This time I took five Binkys though. It was sublime; she drops a Bink and starts to cry, I reach down at 70mph and grab a fresh one like I was digging pretzels from a bag, hand it back, feel her little fingers grab it. No more tears. A few mile later, we do the same duet. I am a Daddy Genius"
  • The Pirates of Pleasant Grove 40 of 43
    The Pirates of Pleasant Grove
    "God, its deep in the night. Deep down, buried under the layers of dream strata and nightmare fossils, is where I end up awake. Three AM maybe. I come awake as I'm actually standing beside my daughter's crib and not as I'm walking in there or anything. I don't remember being in my bed thinking I've gotta get up and go see why she's crying. I don't recall opening my eyes and having rational thought. I just end up over there by her side as she's weeping and hacking her little precious cough and peering up at me with her sad tiny eyes; a lovable short stack asking me why she has to have this stupid cold. Asking me what I'm gonna do about it. Maybe asking me for apple juice cut with tap water."
  • Breaking Camp 41 of 43
    Breaking Camp
    "So, we're getting ready to move away from this house. Its the house Violet first came home to in this world; where she took her first bite of applesauce; where she first smiled up at my goofy grins. Its the house where we first brought home our youngest dog, Milo. And its the house where I became a stay-at-home Dad who thought it would be ok to eat peanut butter and cheese and spoonfuls of sweet crunchy sugar and then turned around a year later to find that I have long greasy hair and a pot-belly and I look like a dude sat down and shoveling fried rice out of a styrofoam container behind a case of rookies at a baseball card convention. Whatever. "
  • Airpwane 42 of 43
    "My daughter is half a year from three now and she talks a lot. We'll be in the Honda, cruising down the road towards the Home Depot or the beer distributor and she'll be back there in her seat all strapped in, the summer gushing through the window/making her curls medusa, and out of nowhere she'll holler,"AIRPWANE! AIRPWANE! OVER DARE! IT"S AN AIRPWANEOVERDAREOVERDAREAIRPWANELOOKANAIRPWANE!" And sure enough me and her mom will lean out over the dash and look up in the sky and see some jet high out over the world, dangling from a cloud. "There it is!," we'll say."
  • Tooth Marks In The Wood 43 of 43
    Tooth Marks In The Wood
    "Fear wells up in me all the time and I try not to let it show, but I know I suck at that and my wife would confirm that. You can't keep your kids from falling down off stuff or splitting their lips open on the very tables we set up to hoist their small dinners toward the heavens. Bees are gonna find that soft skin and they are gonna be fucking excited as hell when they hold their asses in the air and wave 'em around and then send the stinger home some early evening when you're all relaxing out in the yard, putting flowers in the dirt and feeling all good about yourselves because you're such a quality time family and look at us out here digging in Mother Earth together but not in some dirty hippie kinda way but more in a Beekman Boys vibe and aren't we just so....BAM. The kid gets stung. Hell comes calling. I can't stop it. I can't stop anything, really.

We love dads! Lessons we learned from our fathers

Article Posted 5 years Ago

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