Because I’m Your Father

I swear those are not my boobs.

Oh yeah…THIS place!  

For the 8-10 of you that still bother, a Happy Mother’s Day to you.  Hope it was a good one.  Mine was spent taking care of the boy, and actually messing around with the blog (gasp).  I upgraded to the latest WordPress, which is really pretty cool, and I put a few new widgets over there on the right (go buy stuff so Amazon will send me money).  Oh, and I uploaded a few old BIYFilms… enjoy.

I’m not going to say I’ll effort to post more, because much like the bullies in kindergarten who mocked my very 70s-plaid pants (thanks mom!), you’ll just laugh and point.  But don’t be surprised if things start to pick up a bit around here in the coming weeks.  You see, BIYM and I were trying to recall something funny that Albert had done the other day. When we came to the sad realization that we’d completely forgotten, I decided to try and do better, to try and keep a better record of the funny stories, quotes and moments together.    I owe it to myself, BIYM and the boy to remember.  

Finally, to my baby-momma… I love you.  Thank you for all that you do, and all that you are.  You’re an amazing wife, and one hell of a mom…  Albert and I are lucky dudes.

“Where did the rough go Da-da?”

“There’s a little rough right here. You just can’t see it very well because I shaved today.”

“Da-da, I can have some rough too?”

“No, you’re not old enough yet.  You have to be older.”

“I don’t have any rough.”

“You have to grow up and be a big boy like Da-da before you’ll get any rough.”

“Yeah.  I’m too small.”

“Well you’re getting bigger, and before you know it you’ll have some rough.”

“Yeah. I can sit here with Da-da and wait until I get some rough?”

“We’ll sure be waiting a long time.”

“Yeah.  We can wait a long time together.”

For those of you who know me ‘in that way,’ it should come as no big surprise that my first post of the new year would involve bodily function.

BIYM and I have been trying to potty train the boy for a month or so. We conquered the ‘ole #1 pretty quickly, because he quite liked the idea of standing up to pee (although some people still seem to take issue with our superior ability - clearly their kind hasn’t evolved to the F.U.D. yet - seriously ladies, it’s 2008). He even tells us now when he needs to go, and holds it until we get to the potty. However, we hadn’t quite convinced him that #2 was worth the same time and effort. So we changed strategies.

At the suggestion of a friend (by the way, don’t you just love that you can have serious conversations about pee and poop with other adults at New Year’s parties?), we started putting him in big boy underwear and covering them with what can only be described as plastic pelvic hazmat suits (thank heavens BIYM made sure that his collection was styled with cute, slimming stripes, in a variety of earth tones and pastel colors - we wouldn’t want Tim Gunn and Veronica Webb giggling behind his back, would we?). After a couple of Homeland Security worthy emergencies (BIYM being the victim for most all), and a few bribes offering him new Thomas engines (behold the power of Sodor), he decided to play along today - and boy did he.

Now, I’m quite sure not everyone wants to read all the gory details… So if you don’t, this is where the entry should end for you…

… Gone? Ok.

I know I have at least one brother and a couple of guy friends who still read my blog, and care, so I’ll share for your benefit. Lets just say that for my son’s first potty-poop, he produced an impressive, full-grown-man quality dump. A floater. Great color. Just the right amount of smell.  Pinched to perfection, requiring but a single wipe.  And despite it’s astounding length and girth, it was entirely intact and coiled up like a freggin’ champ.

I’ve never been more proud. I love you son.