BaneRants  

You must be at least this tall to ride this ride

::Tip Jar::






::Menu::

View My Stats




eXTReMe Tracker


Crusader for Christ Crusader against Islam


This blog is protected from memes by Grundir the Implacable



Creative Commons License
This work
licensed under
a Creative
Commons License
.

RSS FEED

email me






::Links::


Pat Dollard

James Lileks
(My Idol)


Sharp Knife
(My Other Hero)


BaneRants
(Wordpress)

Now With Best ofs!

Haunted Soldier

Curses & Chrome

All Atwitter

Maiden Magnetic

Random Bits of Pomposity

Baldilocks

Vox Day

Velociman

Pondering...

Doc in the Box

Protein Wisdom

Atlas Shrugs

Twenty Major

Northwoods
Woman


Kolyada.com

Olbermmeinfuhrer

DaddyBlogger



::Previous::
  • Married, With Children...



  • ::Past::
  • September 2002
  • October 2002
  • November 2002
  • December 2002
  • January 2003
  • February 2003
  • March 2003
  • April 2003
  • May 2003
  • June 2003
  • July 2003
  • August 2003
  • September 2003
  • October 2003
  • November 2003
  • December 2003
  • January 2004
  • February 2004
  • March 2004
  • April 2004
  • May 2004
  • June 2004
  • July 2004
  • August 2004
  • September 2004
  • October 2004
  • November 2004
  • December 2004
  • January 2005
  • February 2005
  • March 2005
  • April 2005
  • May 2005
  • June 2005
  • July 2005
  • August 2005
  • September 2005
  • October 2005
  • November 2005
  • December 2005
  • January 2006
  • February 2006
  • March 2006
  • April 2006
  • May 2006
  • June 2006
  • July 2006
  • August 2006
  • September 2006
  • October 2006
  • November 2006
  • December 2006
  • January 2007
  • February 2007
  • March 2007
  • April 2007
  • May 2007
  • June 2007
  • July 2007
  • August 2007
  • September 2007
  • October 2007
  • November 2007
  • December 2007
  • January 2008
  • February 2008
  • March 2008
  • April 2008
  • May 2008
  • June 2008
  • July 2008
  • August 2008
  • September 2008
  • March 2009
  • June 2009
  • July 2009
  • August 2009
  • October 2009
  • November 2009
  • May 2011
  • September 2012







  • This is my Blog...There are many like it, but this one is mine...

    This page is powered by Blogger.


        Saturday, May 19, 2007

    Married, With Children...

    It's finding a pair of panties, soaking in the bathroom sink. It is smelling a fart you know damn well you didn't cut. It's paying a small fortune for wedding pictures that you never look at again. It's finding your daughter's booger collection on the wall by her bed, like a piece of particularly vile NEA funded art. 'Snot Christ', or something.

    It's not being able to go anywhere ever again without telling someone, and making some sort of arrangements. It's finding crusts and crumbs and rinds of food under the seat of your car, and partial bags of hairy caterpillar french fries.

    It is standing over your sleeping child at night, and being absolutely positive they have stopped breathing, so you pinch their nose and stifle giggles when they grimace and slap and rub at their face.

    It is watching the light slowly dim in the angel night-light by your daughters bed, and sneaking it downstairs to slip fresh batteries in, still mad at yourself for not getting one with a cord. It is her face, a lazy sleepy smile on it as you put the glowing angel back, and she slips back into sleep.

    It is glowing plastic appliqu├ęs of planets and stars and spaceships that you stuck to their ceiling, and they gasp in delight every single night when you turn off the light, and then make wishes on them.

    It is sitting on your separate couches downstairs with your counterpart, yet sharing the same ottoman, and the warmth of your feet touching is enough, in fact, just right at the end of the day.
    It is trying to figure out whose turn it is to go upstairs, because you just saw a light go on, and then realizing that it is your mates turn, but she's had a rough day, so you drag your own tired ass up there and deal with things.

    It is picking up the phone to call her, and having it ring in your hand, and she asks you to be ready to come out and help her with the groceries because she is just a block away, and you say I know, because you do.

    It is getting so mad at someone one minute, clearly able to imagine killing them, and then in the next minute, holding them and soothing them, and really caring about their feelings.

    It is about proudly holding your baby as you walk around the fairgrounds, and then feeling the warm shit as it makes its way out of the diaper leg-hole and down your arm, and laughing at the absurdity of it all as you rush to the restrooms, and see another father in there before you, already rinsing his kids ass under the sink faucet, and you both laugh out loud at each other and make gagging sounds as you clean things up.

    It is about knowing the proper way to pack a diaper bag.

    It is finding a treasured baby toy of theirs, many years later, and suddenly you can't see through the blur.

    It is about watching another man, or woman, take your child away from you, and set about making a family of their own.

    It is about gain, and loss, and pain, and glory, and anger, and happiness, and...

    It is about immortality.