Hi … yeah … I’m on the toilet. I wasn’t planning to be here this early but have you ever just smelled coffee in the morning and almost pooped in your pants? … well that happened … so here I am and that’s Axel … one of my 3 little banshee Indian boys. We are playing a game … it’s called he tries to reach between my legs into the toilet (I just threw up a little) and I hit his arm away … the harder I hit his arm the funnier he thinks it is … and I’m just under the CPS scale of how hard you can hit your kids (called Level “Officially Unfit for Parenting”). He won’t stop. He won’t leave. It’s 650am. Mom life begins for this dad. Wienermom reporting for duty … literally.
When on kid duty … I need a plan and I operate in countdowns … how long are we doing this before we do that? … and how long will we do that until it’s socially acceptable to start drinking? … haha … seriously though is it after lunch? 3pm? 5pm? I need an answer … preferably from a pagan or a catholic. The bottom line is … what time does the bounce house open … the kiddos are already fighting, climbing walls, drawing on walls, and breaking stuff … must get out immediately … it is 710am.
Public Service Announcement affecting all Hengst boys … “Stop what you are doing and get in the car” … once they are all contained and strapped in the car I do a quick assessment … why are shoes always missing?! WTF … are the women from Hidden Figures still alive? They helped us get to the moon so surely they could be tasked with creating a GPS trackable shoe line for kids … I’d pay a lot of money for an un-losable shoe or paci for that matter. My assessment concludes that a lot has been left behind … sippy cup, paci, 2 pairs of shoes, diaper bag, one kid needs pants. Lord of Hosts please help me. “No one move! I’ll be right back” let the scavenger hunt begin. Finally, I come out the front door with arms full of life needs & trinkets to temporarily fulfill the children’s souls … I’m quite positive that I came out the front doors in slow motion … like Ben Stiller walking up with Jinxycat in Meet the Parents … hero strut … straight hero. That scavenger hunt was my female dog. Peace. We out. It’s 730am.
“Where are we going” … to the bounce house.
“Yeah! Awesome!” … glad you’re excited bud.
“What time do they open?” … good question.
“Are we gonna eat breakfast?” … good question.
So this fun fact … bounce house doesn’t open until 10 … I’m glad I’m an innovator … Although no one would know it as I drive to the gym while throwing chicken minis in the back seat. Yes .. I said the gym … I went to the gym. I know it doesn’t look like I work out … and I really don’t … but they have child care and coffee. So that’s me … on the leather sofa sipping coffee staring … not at my phone … at the wall. Letting my sensory processing glands a little reset time … and what is that approaching from the distance … oh hell … it’s a talker … you know … the people who Never. Stop. Talking. You know … the people that make your soul ask your body “should I just leave for a bit?” … I duck around the corner and press my face against the glass to the spin cycle class being held on this fine day … no … sorry lady … nice work but I’m not checking out your glutes … I’m avoiding a soul snatcher. Disaster avoided, I’m Caffeinated with sensory glands on point … it’s bounce house time. The kids exit the gym childcare like they are escaping Auschwitz … what the hell happened in there?! Not important … they are alive. Let’s roll. It is 9am.
What’s that smell? Good to know … DD and Axel both have dumps in their pants … like I said … gym child care keeps them alive, nothing more, nothing less. As we pull up to the bounce house I’m mentally preparing to complete not 1 but 2 alligator roll diaper changes in a small confined back seat without puking. My gag reflex is bad … like can’t barely brush my tongue with a toothbrush bad … I’d be the worst gay dude of all time … someone make me a trophy please … it can be a gold man eating a gold banana with “worst gay dude in the world” etched beneath him … the things we get trophies for as adults … simply amazing.
I forgot that we are more likely to survive the Oregon Trl than to emerge from a bounce house without AIDS. I’m not scared though … Magic Johnson is still alive and that’s where I’m putting my hope. Magic made it. Magic made it … I repeat with each step taking me closer to the boyant cesspool. Our 3yr old “DD” doesn’t bounce one time … not once. He stands by the photo booth and cries because we don’t have change for him to get his picture taken. And he won’t settle for an iPhone selfie. At least he didn’t move … I knew where to find him while I wrangled the other 2 … there were a few other kids whose parents don’t play or pay attention to them so my fold was quickly expanding. I’m now responsible for 5 kids … one of them with green snot coming out his nose that keeps wanting me to pick him up … I keep double bouncing him hoping he will either get scared or his snot will fly out somewhere (there goes that gag again). It’s at this point I glance at the photo booth … DD is there alright but he’s punching some other kid … stay off my Polaroid homie. I leave my flock to break it up … me and the other dad approach the scene at the same time. I quickly size him up and identify his dad type … is he fun dad? Gym dad? Rage dad? Helicopter dad? Luckily he is Trendy Dad and through his skinny jeans and nut-sack looking beanie he realizes that his son started it. “It’s all good man … my guy deserved it … he started it” … cool and thank you lord that wasn’t a homeschool mom … may of had a situation.
Has a week gone by? Nah Wienermom … just 4 hrs. Time for lunch , naps and then hopefully a drink. Every time I have all 3 boys I survive and we have fun. They are special … and I always leave telling my wife “I don’t know how you do this everyday” … Moms are the real superheroes. Moms with wieners … not so much.