Wednesday, July 14, 2010

DaddyLand Rants: Father Knows Best

McLovin' here.  You know, Kate's husband - the other Darrin.  I have a question.  Who doesn't love surprises? As many of you know, I've been travelling a LOT lately. I was excited to be home over the Fourth of July weekend, and looked forward to doing a little yard work and having a lot of fun.

Enter my obnoxious lovely wife Kate.

Shortly after arriving home from work Friday night, Kate somewhat hesitantly informs me she's got to go out of town for work. Leaving Saturday. For a week. F**k me.

I immediately start panicking coming up with Plan B -- essentially, how Happy, the dog, the fish and I will survive until we hear the sounds of those expensive high heels clicking through the front door.

Day One:

This is easy. Of course, Kate's still here. We venture off to our town's parade and begin Food Fest 2010 with our first meal of the weekend - A Hot Dog and a Coke. Later, we take Kate to the airport and head straight for dinner [Editor's Note: I left at 2:30 in the afternoon. Just sayin'. - Kate] Three words: Chick. Fil. A. Did anyone guess? We have a winner! What is it she calls them? [Editor's Note: T-box, baby. - Kate] Right. Open one of those. You're going to be hearing those three words a lot. Let's make it a game.

I, of course, rationalize this because outside it's ten degrees warmer than the damn Sahara, and the Chick. Fil. A. (drink again) has an indoor play yard. Happy and I enjoy fine fried chicken (no trans fat!) And, just to be sure of his fruit/vegetable intake, I give Happy the cherry from my milkshake. After an hour in the grease laden kid play area, we head home. Feed the dog, medicate the dog, feed the fish. Open the fridge. Notice Kate left something out for us to have for dinner. One of her delicious-and-easy dinners she makes ahead of time and encases in Ziploc. She loves that place.

Return delicious-and-easy dinner to freezer.

Today's Food Re-cap: Hot Dog, Coke, Chick. Fil. A. (drink again)

Sleep. Unlike when Kate's here, I get to enjoy the silence AND have the bed to myself. A little SportsCenter and I'm sleeping like a baby. This is hard?

Day Two:

It's 387 degrees outside at 8am. Too hot to cook, mow lawn or do just about anything. Bad news: Chick. Fil. A. (drink, again)  is closed. Sunday. Rat bastards. Fortunately, a friend gave us tickets to a baseball game. They have food. On our way to our seats, we get: hot dogs, sodas and peanuts. Third inning: Ice Cream. I email Kate from the game, mostly to tell her what we're eating. She never writes back. She must be busy.

Dinner: BBQ. Of course. Because it's American.

Day Three:

Holiday. Cook-out at a friends. Hot Dogs, sodas, and BBQ. We possibly both may not have felt fantastic that night. Maybe.

Day Four:

Thank god. Chick. Fil. A. (really, are you drunk yet, because this is ridiculous) is open for breakfast. I think Happy must be thrilled to see his nanny. She fixes food. From the refrigerator. She looks at us, and the house and possibly the trash, and shuffles me out the door. I'm pretty sure Happy only ate vegetables for lunch, and was probably really happy about it.

I think we had hot dogs for dinner. Or maybe just ice cream. Either way, it's not good.

Today's Food Re-cap:

Day Five, Six and Seven:

Random assortment of cereal, leftovers, ice cream, Chick.Fil.A. (hey, it has pickles...and potatoes...those are vegetables. Oh, and drink again) pie, cheese, power bars, and, as a last resort, attempting to follow directions on Kate's delicious-and-easy dinner that are delicious-and-not-easy-when-entertaining-Happy-and-taking-dog-out-to-pee-and-feeding-animals-and-answering-phone-and-wondering-when-the-hell-wife-will-return-home.

Day Eight:

The children and I are playing downstairs. It's late, but she's due home any minute. We all think it's best to just wait. I started to suggest dinner, and Lefty and McGee just held up their hands, stopping me mid-sentence. They know.

Door opens. Slams. We all gasped. High heels clicking on the floor.


Mad rush up the stairs. They clung to her like she was holding the Heisman or something.

"Mom, we're hungry." She suggested pizza. They were thrilled. I think it's because it wasn't Chick Fil A. (drink)

I'm planning on going back this Saturday. It's part of our weekend routine. There's a chance I might be going by myself.

There's also a chance we might take a week off. Maybe.

If I can close on a serious note - Kate and I fully appreciate how our little week-long -- or more -- separations pale in comparison to what the spouses of our servicemen and women go through every day when they are deployed. You should know that every conversation I have with our military guys inevitably turns to talking about our families. As much as they miss you and your children, they know you're the rock holding the family together back home.

Kate and I pray for our guys and gals to be safe and come home to their families. And to you moms, we thank you and hope you hear the sound of boots coming through your front door very soon.

And, with any luck, they'll be holding a bag of Chick. Fil. A. Bottoms up...

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