Steely Dad

A couple of weekends ago, I went on vacation. (In addition to some of my other fringe benefits, my boss gives me a few days a year for vacation.)

But Steely Dad, how does a stay-at-home dad (SAHD) go on vacation? Isn’t your entire life a vacation?

To that I answer, “Well, yes it is,” but that’s not the point. The point is, like anyone else, I too require some time away. How does that happen with kids? Steely Wife simply takes over. Thanks hun!

So on this vacation, we went to stay with my best bud at his lake house in Elkhart Lake, WI. In a word, it was AWESOME!

I went wake boarding for the first time. It took me a few times to get the hang of it (don’t laugh; remember it was my first time) but here’s some video: Steely Dad Wakeboarding

My buddy also has a bunch of dirt bikes and quads so we went out to his track and tore it up. I’ve ridden dirt bikes a few times before (I am, after all, from El Cajon, CA, home of many a Supercross hero) but I wouldn’t call myself an expert. Here’s some footage: Steely Dad Riding Dirt Bikes

And just to round off the weekend, we also did some skeet shooting. Again, I’m no expert like my mother-in-law (who is an accomplished competitive trap and skeet shooter) but I do OK: Steely Dad Skeet Shooting

It was just an amazing time and one I hope to relive again soon. You might be thinking with all the dangerous sports in which I partook that injury would be inevitable. Well, funny thing about that. I did actully hurt my knee but it was an injury unrelated to the aforementioned activities and didn’t occur until the following weekend. Want to know how I hurt it? Of course you do. I wish I had some gripping story, like I was wrestling alligators or something, but alas it would not be an honest tale (like the ones above). I hurt my knee jumping up in the air. Yea, just jumping up in the air. Mind you, when I jump I achieve Jordaneque-type air, but nonetheless I was just jumping. My wife and I went to a Yelp party and there was this cool camera, provided by Actionbooth, that takes photos of people jumping, dancing or just plane acting crazy. The dude from Actionbooth and I decided to do a chest bump.

Here’s the photo: Steely Dad’s Mad Hops.

(Note my three-foot tall Guinness hat.)

As you can see, I got up there pretty good but when I landed, I felt a “pop” in my right knee.  I’m sure mere mortals would’ve called it a night. What does Steely Dad do? I fought through the pain, with the assistance of several malt beverages, and kept the party going. That was Friday night. Saturday morning, when I attempted to get out of bed, my knee let me know under no uncertain terms that I’m a complete dumb shit. I couldn’t walk (in fact I still can’t put all my weight on it) so Steely Wife and Steely Kids had to escort me to the ER. Nothing is more demeaning than having to explain to your kids why Daddy has to visit the doctor, why Daddy smells like a distillery and why Daddy woke up wearing only a three-foot tall Guinness hat. Here’s how the conversation with my son went down:

Hungover Steely Dad: Ohhhhhhhh, my knee!

Steely Son: What happened, Daddy?

Hungover Steely Dad: Daddy hurt his knee.

Steely Son: How?

Hungover Steely Dad: By jumping up in the air.

Steely Son: Why’d you do that?

Hungover Steely Dad: Because Daddy isn’t so smart.

Steely Son: I’m smart.

Hungover Steely Dad: Yes you are, buddy. You’re much smarter than Daddy.

Steely Son: Daddy?

Hungover Steely Dad: Yes son?

Steely Son: Why do you smell like that stinky guy we always see in front of the grocery store?

Hungover Steely Dad: Uh, is that your mother calling you?

Steely Son: I don’t hear Mommy.

Hungover Steely Dad: Yea, I hear Mommy calling you. (Me does his best ventriloquist impression.)

Steely Son: No she isn’t, Daddy. Are you goofin’ me?

Hungover Steely Dad: Here’s $20.

Steely Son: Daddy, this is $5.

Hungover Steely Dad: Consider it a down payment.

Steely Son: OK. Hey Daddy, why are you wearing that hat?

Hungover Steely Dad: It’s a magic hat. Watch, when you put it on you become invisible.

Steely Son: Daddy?

Hungover Steely Dad: Where are you?

Steely Son: Daddy, I’m right here!

Hungover Steely Dad: Oh, darn, I guess you left.

Moral of the story? If you drink, don’t jump and if you jump, don’t drink. Make sure you assign a designated jumper when you drink. And please jump responsibly.

More drama on the blogging front.

I made the egregious mistake of upgrading my blogging software to the most recent incarnation of Wordpress, the seemingly innocuous vintage 2.8. I, however, have found a more fitting title: Satan’s Software. I’ve been up all hours of the night for the past few days trying to exterminate the bugs that infest this piece of work. In any case, this is the main, but not singular, reason to explain my hiatus. I even had this cool Father’s Day story about my father-in-law but who the hell wants to read that AFTER the big day? Exactly.

In the immortal words of Bob Marley, when one HTML code closes another opens and in my case this is no exception. Today marks a major milestone in my heretofore modest blogging career. This post is my first submission as an OFFICIAL columnist for the social network juggernaut Dad Blogs.  Why they picked me to write for them can only mean one thing: everyone else they asked declined. Anyhow, I’m happy to oblige and I hope you’ll check out this awesome site as there are some seriously fantastic bloggers who call Dad Blogs home.

As anyone who’s been following Steely Dad since its inception way back in January of this year, you know that I often share some rather intimate details of my life. I feel an obligation to be open and honest with the Steely Dad Nation and I’m not going to change that approach just because I’m some dude with a by-line. But I’ve got to tell you, this story is so bloody embarrassing that I’m not even sure I can share it with you. It’s way worse than even Telemarketing Phone Sex. Should I compromise my integrity, my reputation, my character and in the process cause irreparable harm to my children’s self-esteem? Sure, why the hell not? I’ve got nothing better to do.

So Steely Wife took Steely Kids out to the park last week. I thought they’d be gone for at least an hour which meant I could get some Steely Dad time all to myself. What do guys do when their wife and kids aren’t around? What do you think we do? Well, I should say that 99 percent of us do and the other 1 percent won’t admit it. Come on guys, you all know what I’m talking about. Uh-huh, that’s right. I’m not afraid to admit that as a SAHD I so deeply cherish these moments for they have become as rare as an red diamond and just as valuable.  But guys, don’t be fooled. Mine is a cautionary tale, the message of which you should heed.

Feeling kinda frisky, I went to what I thought was a private area of the house. I proceeded to prepare myself for fun and frivolity and in the midst of my solo dalliance, just as things were getting interesting, I hear a key slide into a lock, the pins moving as they’re engaged and then I see the knob turn as if in slow motion. Intruders! My initial reaction was to flee but I had no where to run. I was cornered and it was far too late to get myself back to normal. I was caught, shall we say, red-handed?

Of course  Steely Wife, at least after shielding the childrens’ eyes, seized the opportunity to capture this rather delicate situation for digital prosperity. She is nothing if not skilled in the art of extortion. Below is the visual product of her extraordinary effort. Now be forewarned, Steely Dad Fan, the photo is exceptionally graphic. Not only should minors never, ever, under any circumstances be subjected to such a disgraceful display, no adult should either for that matter. I’m warning you now before you click on the link. Trust me when I say you’ll never be able to return to that safe and happy sanctuary after viewing this photo. Still want to look? OK but it’s your nightmare.

Daddy’s Little Secret

So sue me, OK? Yea, I like to wear princess stuff and rock some brews and smoke cigars with my Dale Jr. teddy bear. Is that so wrong?

How did I respond, you might ask? As if spontaneously filled with the Holy Spirit of Nacho Libre, I raised my head, mustered what little pride remained and said, “Honey, when you are a man sometimes you wear princess stuff, in your room. It’s for fun.”

The lesson here? Guys, it’s OK to wear your princess gear; just don’t get caught wearing your princess gear and for Pete’s sake never get caught wearing your princess gear by your wife and kids.

Being a stay-at-home dad (SAHD) provides me with a lot of time to think (because even though I’m watching my kids, my mind is roaming it’s own private Internet).  Although this can be productive, it can also be downright dangerous for someone like me to be alone with his mind because ideas like the following are created.

Steely Wife and I have been engaging in some serious discussions regarding the Hat Trick. Yup, we want to increase all the joy and bliss that entwine our lives by adding another little member to the Steely team. As a SAHD, I don’t belong to a union so this provides me with additional job security.

I love trying to make a baby. It’s pretty much the best thing in the world. I don’t get excited for the romantic reasons of bringing another life into the world, although that definitely enjoys a spot in my top 10 list. For me, the process is thrilling for much more debauched reasons: it’s the only time when my wife becomes a sexual Vegas buffet. She’s open all the time and I can have as much as I want. Now imagine if the Vegas buffet had one of those guys who stand out front a Tijuana nightclub blowing a whistle trying to lure every passerby with cheap drink specials. You know, like a carnival barker. That would be my wife when she wants to make a baby. “Step right up and come inside,” she will say in her best Jimmy Durante voice (but hopefully in this case I’m her only customer).

Throughout our history together a pattern has certainly emerged. This insatiable sex drive only presents itself when Steely Wife desires a shiny new infant. During our off season she has a “No Trespassers” sign prominently displayed on her vagina. I think she gets it waxed that way. It makes me feel like she only uses me for my DNA.

So I have devised a plan that I believe will enable me to lengthen the time that her fields will be available for plowing.

Since the days of Adam and Eve, women have used pregnancy as a means to trap unsuspecting and overly-trusting men into a long-term relationship. “Of course I’m on the pill,” a girl might say with the conviction of a seasoned con artist. The man believes her and nine months later he’s saddled with dirty diapers and the obligation of making child support payments. Well, I say let’s turn the tables, men, and assure our woman that we are off the pill. What the hell am I talking about? I want to invent a birth control pill for the guys. It occurs to me that men possess a natural aversion to any modification to their stones but before you reject my idea hear me out. As I was saying, I’d like the buffet to be open more often and for longer hours. How to do that? Tell my wife I’m no longer taking my birth control pill for men (the BCPM) but in reality, I’ll still be ingesting the daily dosage until I’m ready to plant the seed.

Let’s take a look at the pros/cons of my plan, shall we?

Pros (in order of importance):

More sex

Cons (in order of severity beginning with the least severe):

A loss of trust

Divorce

Homicide

Less sex with my wife

No sex with my wife ever again

Genital mutilation

From this analysis, one can clearly conclude the positive reasons far outweigh any potential negative consequences. I could probably maintain the charade until my wife freaks out because she doesn’t get pregnant and has a nervous breakdown that results in a trip to the local fertility clinic. By my estimation this will be no more than 28 days. It would also require some pretty adept maneuvering on my part to explain why there is the BCPM in my system. “Someone must’ve slipped it into my fertility smoothie, love,” I might plead. “Let’s question the boy. He never did want siblings.”

So guys, let me know your thoughts, if I should move forward with inventing a BCPM. If you agree, I’ll get to working on it straight away. I’ll just need to borrow one of those home chemistry sets and a high school science text. Also, just remind me: can you mix acids and bases?