Father of the Year

You remember from a couple weeks ago that someone (the wife) let the baby fall off the bed and break her leg. Now this week we have had to contend with one of the other monsters breaking a toe. I told the wife to make sure she let the doctors know I was out of town. That way if a parent goes to jail, it won't be me worrying about dropping the soap. So she gimped around for a few days with a big swollen paw until we went to the doctor. After that she is running around, jumping and climbing like it never happened. The doctor didn't actually do anything. I think my kids just automatically heal when I have paid the copay.

The Hawkman family is coming back to town. Seems like a recurring theme doesn't it? Anything for a free meal I guess. I think we are going to have to start burning the meals or something, they just keep coming back for more. I have given up blaming them for all our illnesses. I will not even mention it this time. Ooops. I just did.

Tennis season is here already. We are just mere days away from the first matches. The Human Tumor wants to throw his hat in the ring. And what a big hat it is since his melon has enlarged like that of Barry Bonds. It will be fun to see his big steroided body getting branded with Wilson just like body paint. The whole gang is looking forward to some good competition and seeing Sandwich Artist and The Schweetness flail around like they are on fire.

Just a little heads up for Hawkman. Bring your racquet. It will be 70 and sunny this weekend. Perfect beatdown weather. A little warm up before I beat the rest of the crew. Also, bring some garden gloves. I am working on the backyard garden again this year. Last year I was able to grow tomatoes at $43.95 a pound and cucumbers at $22.00 a pound. Much better than supermarket rates. It's not?? Oh. I might have to rethink this. You mean buying ten pepper plants for seven stinking jalapenos is not a good deal? Damn.

I learned last weekend what it really means to be getting old and that my life has changed. You would think that toting around a dozen or so kids would have done that for me. Or the super grey hair that makes Estelle Getty look young might have told me that I was old. But alas, no. It took basketball. Just let it be stated that I haven't reached the line yet. You know that line where you go from letting your kid beat you in driveway basketball to where he really beats you. It just happens one day and it never goes back. I remember seeing the sparkle fall from my fathers eye that one day. Don't think he didn't try to get it back, but it never happened. He resorted to the bump, the elbow and the whine. But once you are beaten, you are beaten. That is not what I found last weekend.

What I found was a sad, sad realization all its own. I missed a day of basketball during the first weekend of the NCAA basketball tourney. Now I know this doesn't mean a bunch to people that aren't into sports. But then again, they are probably fags. I haven't missed a day like that in forever. To add insult to injury, Maryland (my boys) were playing that day too. Where was I this glorious day?, in the hospital? dead? No. I was at a sporting function for one of my children. I might have been able to overcome this sadness if they had won but, no they got waxed. So here I was watching hockey when the greatest sporting event was taking place without me. I remember having a teacher in Junior High roll a television into the classroom one year so we could watch the ACC tournament. I haven't missed too many games since. If you shut your eyes, you can see the sparkle falling from mine.