My Life

My Life

I love having daughters. It is absolutely awesome. However I was horrified when I found out I was having not one but two of them, but over time all that fear has turned to incredible joy – until of course they become teenagers. The things you do once you have daughters are just a bit different than when you have a son though. With my son we ride 4-wheelers, fight with swords, shoot BB guns and bows and arrows (yes I know girls can do this stuff), and with my girls I’m getting my nails painted, wearing tiaras and dressing up in girl clothes, and I have to admit that I enjoy it. I enjoy it for many reasons, but mostly to see the joy in their eyes when daddy wants to do all the girlie things that they are into. I know that it won’t be too many years from now that they will push me aside a bit when they get older so I soak up all the things that I can now to build that long lasting relationship.

With pleasure I show you the many things I have done to bond with my daughters:


I Dress Up In Girl Clothes

I Dress Up In Girl Clothes

I Rock Out In A Pink Guitar

I Rock Out In A Pink Guitar

I grocery Shop With A Zebra Printed Pink Ballet Backpack

I grocery Shop With A Zebra Printed Pink Ballet Backpack

I Get My Nails Painted

I Get My Nails Painted

The Finished Product

The Finished Product

I do all of these things and I love every single second. I’ve heard that some dads refuse to do such things and I feel extremely sad for them and the magic and joy they are missing out with their princesses. If you are one of those dads, put aside whatever is keeping you from doing these things and I promise you you will experience a feeling like nothing you’ve ever experienced or will experience ever again in your life. Today is a new day, seize it before it’s gone.

My Life
Me and the talking demon baby in question - notice the red eyes.

Me and the talking demon baby in question – notice the red eyes.


It finally started happening and no matter how much I could have prepared for it if I had known about it, I could have never been fully ready for it. It started suddenly and without warning and then as the days slowly started to pass by, those once innocent, cute baby sounds that I had come to love from my beautiful baby girl started morphing into words, that at best could only be decoded by top-secret computers at the Pentagon.

At first it really did make things easier when my daughter finally started using words like “bottle, cookie, more, all done, juice, night-night, tired, fork, towel and pacey”, it stopped a lot of the pointless crying, screaming and guesswork that comes along with trying to figure out what she wanted when she started pointing and screaming like a stay at home mom at an all you can drink winery. That’s the good part. The bad part is when she started getting super confident and started stringing her newly learned words into “sentences” – It was even more of a nightmare than when she first started walking.

This following sentence is a prime example of what I’m talking about:

Dadd-e look mmmmmmhhhmmmm mphm hmmmmmm  COOK-E!


Now, to the untrained eye you might think she wants a cookie, but that’s not necessarily true because to her almost everything is or has been a cookie at one time or another. Yep. Chips, pizza, sandwiches, the mailbox, lint, the garbage can, pillows, and turtles, have all been called a COOK-E at some point in time. My biggest challenge in life right now is trying to figure out how to decipher the gibberish she’s babbling at me before she erupts into one of her famous epic tantrums.

Sure there are times when it can be hilarious. For instance the other day I was upstairs talking to one of my neighbors when my 20 month old daughter came climbing up the stairs from the basement, walked right up to me with her diaper in hand and proudly announced:

Daddy, stinky on my butt!


Now, with her new-found art of what SHE considers talking, I spend most of my days with her crawling on top of me, staring me right in the face with her beautiful little eyes smiling  and very nicely, until she gets frustrated that is, trying her very best to explain something to me with one word grunts and strange sounds that I will never fully understand no matter how much I don’t want to – because understanding means more doing, and I do quite enough already.

And if things couldn’t get any worse, suddenly overnight they automatically catapult into the ‘Ask questions phase’, which is worse sitting through Frozen totally sober dressed in a party hat and pink tutus.

Oh, how I miss the days when all she could do was cry, at least then I could just put her in her crib and close the bedroom door. Now she follows me around all day long asking question after question while demanding everything that she sees that’s not bolted to the floor, and sadly, nothing is bolted to the floor anymore.


My Life


It’s football season and every year with the Football season going strong and the winter quickly approaching many of us men like to engage in an activity of growing football beards. Yes, when you are married with children things like growing a beard for football season is about as great as it gets. Call it sad if you want to, but I look forward to playing Fantasy Football and growing out my beard every year. I’ve grown some pretty epic ones before and this year since the grays are finally settling in to nest, could be the most epic of all.

A few of my friends have already been given the strict warning from their wives about the consequences if they don’t shave, but as all men know, they can’t threaten to take away something that hardly ever gets done in the first place.

So I will be updating periodically on the progress of my football beard that’s only to be shaved after the Super Bowl.

Go Falcons!

Apparently sleeping in is not an option. All 3 of the kids were in my bed watching cartoons by 8 A.M, and shortly after they all ran upstairs, Jack to his room to play video games, and the 2 girls to play in their rooms – or so I thought. A few minutes later just as I had fallen back to sleep, Jack woke me up by standing over me staring at me with his beady little eyes.

Dad! Syd and Sky are covered with soap in the bathroom! Sky is stuck in the bathtub and she’s covered it soap!


Dad! Quick they are both covered in soap!


Then I start hearing these weird noises coming from the upstairs bathroom, mind you I’m in no hurry to get up. After listening for a few seconds I figured that I better go investigate, so I climbed up the stairs, walked into the bathroom and what stood before me was amazing. My 2-year-old daughter was stuck in the tub because she had so much soap on her that she kept slipping and sliding back down whenever she tried climbing up. Sydney, the 4-year-old was on to of the bathroom sink sitting with her feet in the sink that was fulled with soapy water, because as she put it – she was washing her disgusting feet.  Two soap containers, one of which was body wash were empty laying on the floor and it looked like a washing machine had puked all over the floor.

The clean up was epic.


And this is the start of day 2. I don’t know at this rate if I’ll make it through to the end of the week.


The kids are already off for their first major break, the fall break, and we are exactly 2 hours into it and I’ve already had to referee a few discrepancies between the kids. Typical sister/brother/sister stuff but when its first thing in the morning and I haven’t had a sip of caffeine, it can be a little unsettling. For instance my son was on the phone with his girl friend playing his favorite online video game Roblox with her and my 4-year-old likes to think that she is also her friend so she goes into his room and tries to talk to her. So obviously my son freaks out for invasion of privacy, and I’m called up the stairs. Now since her sister is all up in my son’s business, my almost 2-year-old daughter is at her side climbing on my son’s bed and stuffing his video games between the mattresses. That od course happened in the first 15 minutes of my day.

Next up breakfast. My daughters like pancakes with syrup in a separate bowl from the pancakes on the plate. Yes, I know this isn’t the best idea, but you can blame my wife for that. So as you can expect my 2-year-old likes to drink the syrup out of the bowl. Sometimes she eats the pancakes, but more than anything she enjoys drinking the syrup from the bowl. Yes, sometimes I can be pretty irresponsible with the kids.

Next up, watching my two daughters fight over purses. My wife gave my 4-year-old one of her off-season bags (what are off-season bags anyway?) and she totes it EVERYWHERE. Just now her sister grabbed it and Sydney, the oldest yells out “SKY you can’t touch that It’s against the LAW!” – and this is just the beginning of a very long week.

The fall weather has set in so the pool is now closed and with the rainy weather here now all of our activities are totally limited to inside the house. A perfect example, I’m typing this and both of my girls are on both sides of me playing some game that consists of watching their children do cartwheels while counting coins that they have randomly stole found from all over the house. Oh, and for an added bonus Sydney just found a piece of candy in her newly acquired bag. However Sky, the 2-year-old, is now chasing Sydney all over the house screaming because Sydney got a piece of candy and she didn’t.

So wish me luck, I’m definitely going to need it, hopefully we all make it out alive.

My Life

I’ve mentioned cornhole on here and my Facebook page several times and apparently unless you live in the south you really have no idea what I’m talking about.



What is cornhole?

It’s a ‘bean bag” toss game where you throw bags of corn at a board with a 6″ hole in it while standing next to another board 27 feet directly across from it. If a bag lands anywhere on the board, it’s one point – if it goes through the hole, which is what you really want, it’s 3 points. You play with two, two-man teams and you play until the first team reaches 21. It’s awesome and the best game ever.



How did I get started?

I had a BBQ for me and a bunch of my friends daughters after their ballet recital, and one of the guys brought over their cornhole boards, a game I had never ever played. However after a few weekends we were all hooked and played hours at a time every chance we got.

So now we play in tournaments for charity and have a pretty good time together as a group, even though most of the wives get pretty aggravated at us playing all the time. Hopefully I’ve explained it well enough so those of you that keep asking me what cornhole is, now kind of understand what I’m always talking about.


My Life


We had a bit of a rough day. Last night Sky was up all night throwing up, so her nor my wife got any sleep, so today all Sky did was lay on me and sleep. If I tried getting up or moving she started crying and screaming so very little got done today. Right before my wife got home, around 5:30 P.M, she finally got a burst of energy and ran around here like a bat out of hell, and when she crashed, she crashed hard. Hopefully she sleeps well tonight and hopefully she’s back to her normal cute self tomorrow.

My Life


For my daughter’s 4th birthday one of our good friends bought her a living doll, one of those dolls where their eyes close when they lay down. Sydney instantly bonded with the doll naming it Isabella, and was feeding it, changing its diaper, pushing her in a stroller and putting it down for naps like it was a real baby within minutes of getting her. I even came in one day and she had put Isabella in the time out chair for not listening to her, however for some reason she was feeding Isabella cookies at the same time, so her parenting skills still need a bit of work.

Later that day I heard Sydney and her sister Skylar screaming and fighting  over Isabella in the dining room and then without warning – epic crying. Then Sydney comes running into the kitchen with Isabella in one hand and Isabella’s arm in the other, they had ripped her arm off fighting over her. Obviously she thought I could fix and when she realized that I couldn’t – all hell broke loose.

We have just reached the 4-year-old little girl freak out mode: nuclear

I tried to explain to her that I was going to return Isabella to the store and get her a new one, but she wouldn’t hear of it, she just screamed louder as the tears rolled from her face. She couldn’t be consoled. She was devastated and in her mind, she had just lost her child, because she knew that the same doll wasn’t coming back but a new one, but as she had told us repeatedly – she didn’t want a new one, she wanted her old one.

My wife finally came up with the plan that we would just tell her that we were taking Isabella to the store to get her fixed, and after much convincing she calmed down a bit and finally accepted it. Isabella’s hair was messy and her clothes were dirty too, so to combat  we just explained to my daughter she looked so new because they had given her a make over. She bought it.

As soon as she got into the car when I picked her up from pre-k, she demanded that her mother text her a picture of Isabella to make sure that she was okay, and when she saw the picture, her beautiful smile crept back up on her face and you could see how relieved that she was.

These are the types of things I experience while raising daughters, I get to see the instinctive maternal nature of life and get to see it blossom from a seed right before my eyes.

My wife and her friends were in the kitchen drinking wine and I could tell by the way they were all laughing, giggling and carrying on like schoolgirls that they were at least into their second or more probable third bottle. I quickly realized that I had just made a huge mistake of walking in at that moment to get myself a drink because I was instantly thrown into a story from one of my wife’s friends about a huge confrontation she had with her son’s principal in the carpool line the day before. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I had heard the first half of the story, but she didn’t seem to mind so I stood there and smiled and nodded waiting for my chance to get the hell out of there. after she had finally finished the story, which I basically had to choke my way through, my 4-year-old daughter Sydney called my wife into our bedroom, and a few seconds left she came back out laughing hysterically.

Apparently the TV had been left on in the bedroom from one of the kids watching recorded shows probably, and when one of the recorded shows ends, it kicks the TV back to the channel that was being watched before the recorded shows, and in this case it happened to be HBO. Anyway, some movie had been on, I’m not sure which, ( maybe Striptease with Demi Moore?) and my daughter was showing my wife and telling her that she could do the same moves.

Yes, it was slightly funny, but not really. You all know the drill, the only job us father’s really have in life is to keep our daughters off of the pole - by any means necessary.

So next my daughter comes trotting out of the bedroom, comes into the kitchen, pulls herself up onto the kitchen bar stool, stands up proudly and starts shaking her tail feather’s in front of everyone. The girls laughed, I cried and I quickly excused myself from the house.

And this is how life works, I had just went in to get a cold drink and instead I was subjected to a story about a power tripping principal at a private school and visions of my daughter pretending to dance on a stripper pole in the kitchen.

It’s going to be a VERY LONG life I’m afraid, and I’m nowhere near prepared.

My Life


Sometimes the mornings here can be brutal, and by brutal I mean BRUTAL. This year my 4-year-old started  Pre-k so now not only do I have to fight my son, who’s now in the 3rd grade to get up and get ready for school, I also have to fight with my daughter, and it’s a fight I dread every single morning.

Here is a break down of this morning:

6:00 A.M – My wife wakes me up

6:05 A.M – She brings me an espresso in bed

6:10 A.M – We wake the kids up and they come unwillingly downstairs. Now this can go a few different ways, but this morning for example  it was a bit of a nightmare. My daughter woke up in an exceptionally bad mood. She came barreling downstairs crying that she was too tiered to go to school, she threw herself onto the couch and start making her list of demands, but as much as I hate negotiating with terrorists, sometimes I cave, because quite frankly I’d hate to wake up one day headless.

Her first demand was that she wanted her “special”, which is a pillow her grandmother bought for her, and her “lamby”, her stuffed lamb, and her blanket. Sometimes we let her hang out on the couch for a bit to let her wake up, while she watches some cartoons so my wife didn’t have a problem with going to her room and getting her “essentials”, and then my wife sets her up on the couch and goes into the bathroom to get herself to work. A few seconds later I hear this annoying shrieking/ crying coming from the living room from my daughter screaming that my wife got her the wrong blanket, that she actually wanted the “soft” blanket. Needless to say I went upstairs in search of the soft blanket. And even after that she cried and whined the whole time she was getting ready for school insisting that she didn’t want to go, but she went, crying the whole way.

After carpool I spend all day playing with my 21 month old, and by playing I mean she sits on me while she plays with her toys. It’s cute but if I’m not walking around, she is sitting on top of me, for instance this simple blog post has taken me close to 2 hours.

So after some serious brainstorming, I have put together a Morning Survival Kit that I will have on the ready for mornings like the one I experienced this morning. So without further ado:

The Early Morning Survival Kit

1 roll of duct tape

I plan on rolling out these kits worldwide soon, I’m even working on my own infomercial, so stay tuned because they will be available for purchase very soon, and trust me they will make your mornings with your kids go much, much smoother.

My days have changed just a bit since my son and 4-year-old daughter started back to school, now it’s just me and the baby all day, and needless to say the days are a bit calmer. However now that my 21 month old doesn’t have her older sister to torment play with during the day, daddy has become the new playground/play toy/trampoline/playmate, even more so than normal. For instance this is how my day begins:

After we’ve bonded on the couch for a little while and she watches a few of her favorite shows, we go into the kitchen and I whip up some breakfast, she really loves eggs:

After breakfast I’m forced to put together the same animal puzzle over and over again, as she tries her best to name them, and makes me do all the proper animal noises. I’m so good at mooing now that if I was at a social mixer with a bunch of barnyard animals, that all just happened to be blind, let’s just say I could have my pick of any of the fine young heifers that I wanted.

I also get multiple books dumped on top of me, but she’s too impatient for me to read them so she rips through the pages taking her time looking at the pictures and then drops them on the floor in uneven piles.

She likes to watch TV but she can’t stand the commercials so whenever she starts screaming I know its time to go in and fast forward whatever recorded show she’s watching. So basically I’m running into the bedroom every 15 minutes or so, why do they make those damn kid’s cartoons so short?

Her favorite thing to do is to lay directly across my chest and give me as many sweet kisses and as many hugs as she possibly can. This is the best part of my day.

She likes to draw, and by draw I mean draw all over the walls, the tables, the toys or anything else she can get to before I catch her. I hide crayons and pens and put them up on the highest shelves, but somehow she always manages to find them, and its frustrating because we go through a ton of Magic Erasers.

She also likes to run around butt naked because she likes to pull her clothes and her diaper off and run around “nakeed”.

So my days now are packed with a lot less stress and relaxation without any screaming, fighting or crazy demands, that is of course right up until the time my 4-year-old steps into the van at the pre-k carpool – then of course – all hell breaks loose.

My Life

My son Jackson who is 8 years old and just started the 3rd grade has always been extremely straight-laced and cracks the whip quickly on anyone who happens to act inappropriate around him. He’s especially sensitive to those who use bad words, including curse words and words such as stupid, dumb, ignorant, fat and any other word that could be rude or degrading. Hey, that’s great, right? He has excellent morals and on his way to become a fine young man. It’s wonderful until dad slips up and says a curse word, and within one second I hear my son yell ‘DAD!”, and I know I’m in trouble. Now I’m not a sailor but I’ll drop a “hell” or a “damn” every once in a while and every time he’s on me like white on rice. And i one of my friends are over, for instance I have this one Italian friend Richie from New York and he drops the F-bomb every 3rd word and if my son hears it? fuggedaboutit. Hey he is a great kid and I love that about it, oh and our cuss jar? according to him he has hundreds of dollars in it. (we don’t actually have one, he keeps a mental count on his head)

So a week or so ago, I was having a small dispute with one of the guys in my fantasy football league, and out of frustration i took a screen cap of our draft order (long story) and across the picture I wrote FU*K YOU and shared it privately in our fantasy football chat room. I had totally forgot about it and had forgotten to delete it from my laptop’s desktop and this morning when I was cleaning it up, and this is what I found:


Yep, apparently at some point during the week while using my laptop to play a game or doing his homework, he stumbled across the picture and let me know in his own way that he didn’t approve and with that, I guess his cuss jar just got a little bit fuller.