Five Years Ago I Decided to Become a Father and Now My Lamp is on the Floor
This article is for information only and doesn’t call for any action.
The lamp on my bedside table was on the floor. Actually, everything on my nightstand was on the floor in a big lump of destruction.
“What the hell happened to the lamp?!” my wife asked.
“Oh, you want to know what happened?” I said.
You want to know what happened to the damn lamp and all my books, tissues and random bits of my life that I deposit there every night like I’m dumping out my troubles into a bottomless pit that sucks up all the agonizing despair of getting kicked in the balls on a daily basis.
You want to know what happened to the lamp? I’ll tell you what happened to the lamp.
Five years ago my wife and I decided that money and free time was overrated. Who needs free time, reading is for saps. And travel had become way to easy and convenient.
We needed a challenge. We needed that something that would cause us to be constantly late for any and every event. A late entrance is a fashionable entrance I say! Arrive with flare!
So we had our first child, and she was cute. She had more cute wrapped up in her little bald head than a kitten cuddling with a puppy. Sure, it was rough at first but I had always believed that sleep is more of an option than a necessity so we powered through it.
After a while, just one kid wasn’t enough.
Whamo, first shot too, my wife was pregnant, and she is always so sweet and gentle when she’s pregnant. She’s not hard to get along with at all, and I never got yelled at because I couldn’t find Key Lime pie at 2:00 am on a Tuesday.
Nope, never happened.
Eventually, kid number two came, and all was good with our cute little children. Life was good. Food was good. I never got hit in the balls.
But pretty soon we discovered something very important. Kids grow up. They aren’t always little immobile lumps that sleep through the night.
Eventually, they learn to walk. And after they learn to walk, they learn to break stuff. And after they learn to break stuff, they learn to not break their own stuff, but my stuff.
That cutesy sleeping through the night phase where they aren’t walking? That only lasts a couple of months. They should put that on the warranty or something.
It’s like having a baby tiger cub. Aww, they are so cute. Look how cute they are and oh, are they sleeping together now, aww, let’s keep them.
But then the baby tiger cub grows up to a big mobile tiger cub and mobile tiger cubs like to put daddy’s Xbox controller in the dishwasher and then turn it on.
You know what else they like to do? They like throw daddy’s phone in the toilet. Twice.
They like to take daddy’s drill and “fix” things as well. Finally, they like to hide from you to the point where you are freaking out so bad that you are about to call the police only to jump from behind the curtains and scream, “Surprise! You’re an idiot!”
So we had two kids, and they got mobile. Then we decided to move because that was a great idea. So we did.
And we lived in a shack until we found a house. Then I moved us ourselves and the kids thought it was so cool that daddy is so big and strong and can move us to this nice, new pretty house. Besides, daddy’s back will heal in time.
Because a new house has new carpets and new carpets need to be colored on. And the walls. And the cabinets. And the hardwood floor. And the toilet because my kids have something going on with the toilet. I’m just not sure what their love/hate relationship with the toilet is.
But at least as they grow up, they do sleep through the night. Until they decide not to anymore and the only place they want to sleep is with you. And for Christ’s sake dad, you take up to much space, scoot over! And I don’t want covers, it’s too hot. And daddy, I wet the bed.
That’s just one kid. Then the other kid decides to move in the bed as well because if big sister is doing then he’s got to do it. Soon you have a whole Tet Offensive going on with the bed, and you are on the losing side in the middle of the night.
Eventually, you end up sleeping with no covers on a corner of the bed that even that cute little kitten wouldn’t fit on and you’re a grown man wondering why you have to put your pillow half on your own nightstand just to get some sleep.
And sooner or later, that plan backfires when one of the kids has a spastic leg thing going on, and he kicks you in the balls at 3:00 am. You freak out because some little foot of fury is attacking your genitals and you flail blindly to protect yourself. And then your lamp gets hit and all your stuff goes flying off your nightstand.
That is how the lamp got knocked off the nightstand.
This is the speech that I gave my wife.
And at the moment I finished my tirade, a giant fake plastic lizard came over the bed to hit me square in the face. I wasn’t even looking, and it caught me right in the upper cheekbone area.
My wife still can’t stop laughing.
“Where did that come from?” She asked.
Oh, you want to know where Godzilla the giant lizard came from and how it ended up hitting me in the face at the end of my rant?
Five years ago my wife and I decided that…
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Previously Published on Hossman at Home
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December 12, 2018 at 04:34PM