Thursday, September 24, 2009

Gunnery Seargant Poopy Pants...

My wife went back to work a couple of weeks ago for the first time in three years. For three years I’ve been living in a bubble. I got up. I worked out. I pranced around in my underwear eating Zone Bars and drinking Rock Star / No Sugar Energy Drinks. I went online and updated my status on Facebook and Twitter. Sometimes I even watched re-runs of the Odd Couple when the rest of the family was asleep. I came home after work and dinner was waiting. My kids were bathed and ready for bed. It was like I had a Fairy Kid Mother watching over me. She made my life easy.


Sound of said bubble bursting.


POP!


Those days are over. Gone like a fart in the wind. Now, hangover permitting, I get up at 5:45am to work out. There is no prancing around in my underwear. I still eat Zone Bars and drink Rock Star / No Sugar Energy Drinks. It’s too damn early to update my status on Facebook and Twitter; Unless I’m sending a shout out to France or India.


I have no friends or followers there, respectively.


Felix and Oscar are an after thought and I pretty much live on Subway Tuna Heroes.


To be honest, I had a ton of anxiety about the change in our routine but it didn't quite sink in until it was too late. My wife was going to be leaving the house before me.


Out-Numbered - “Uh honey, who’s going to get the kids ready for school? How will they get there?”


Wife - “That would be you, my lazy, spoiled, piece of shit husband.”


Out-Numbered - “Oh Snap. I need a plan.”


The first week in my new role was awesome. I pretty much kept this a secret but I didn’t have to do shit. I’m not sure if my kids were psyched to have me around or if I just got lucky but everything just clicked. My oldest daughter was up and dressed before I even woke up and while I was in the shower, she took it upon herself to get her younger sister ready as well. I didn’t even have to ask.


Jackpot!


Even though I didn’t have to lift a finger, I started to take a lot of pride in my morning contribution to our little family.


Unfortunately I lost my glass slipper at some point over the weekend and I turned into a big fat pumpkin on Monday morning of week 2.


The whole, "We want to impress Daddy act" was gone like, well… a fart in the wind. I started to grasp at straws. Yesterday, I missed two trains because I couldn’t find a God damn pink purse for my two and a half year old and my seven year old told me she hated me because I wouldn’t give her a dollar to buy her friend snack at school. Tell your grubby friend to get her own fucking snack. What am I? UNICEF?


I need a plan.


It’s time to get tough.


So I’m flipping through the channels late that night and I come across one of my all time favorite movies. Full Metal Jacket.


That’s it. I need to send a message. Scare them straight. If they don’t respect me, I’m as good as dead or even worse... A pussy.


Starting tomorrow morning, I am officially becoming…


GUNNERY SERGEANT POOPY PANTS


This is how it will go down.


Out-Numbered - “I'm Gunnery Sergeant Poopy Pants, your senior drill instructor, from now on you will speak only when spoken to, and the first and the last word out of your filthy sewers will be "DAD". Do you maggots understand that?”


Daughters – “Dad. Yes Dad!”


Out-Numbered – “Bullshit I can't hear you. Sound off like you got a pair!”


Daughters – “DAD! YES DAD!”


Out-Numbered – “If you young ladies leave my house, if you survive the morning commute to school, you will be a kid weapon. You will be a minister of death praying for playtime. But until that day you are pukes. You are the lowest form of life on Earth. You are not even human, fucking beings. You are nothing but unorganized grabastic pieces of amphibian shit. Because I am hard you will not like me. But the more you hate me the more you will learn. I am hard but I am fair. There is no racial bigotry here (True but I'm not sure it applies to my kids). Here you are all equally worthless. And my orders are to weed out all non-hackers who do not pack the gear to serve in my beloved Kid Corps. Do you maggots understand that?"


Daughters – “DAD! YES DAD!”

Out-Numbered - "Now that's more like it. Now let's hear the mantra loud as a bell."

Daughters - [chanting] "This is my sippy cup. There are many like it but this one is mine. My sippy cup is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. Without me, my sippy cup is useless. Without my sippy cup I am useless."

Out-Numbered - "Enough. Let's do this..."

Too much? Probably but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Definitely Out-Numbered on this one...


Fatherhood Friday at Dad Blogs