How comfortable have you become at home with your family members? I’m not referring to your parents or other relatives living outside of your home. Your spouse and children- how comfortable have you become with them? Or they with you?

When my wife and I first starting dating I would take frequent trips to the mirror to make sure I did not appear disheveled or to confirm I didn’t have a booger hanging out of my nose. I’d often have to reassure myself that I did not present an embarrassing image to the woman I was trying to impress.

Fast forward many years later, not to mention 4 kids later. I wake up in the mornings completely uninhibited in regards to my appearance and/or current state. As an example, I used to wait for the “morning wood” to calm down before I’d get out of bed, but now I don’t have time for that nonsense any more. These days  I get up and walk right into the kitchen whilst still pitching a tent, make myself a shake and in the meantime my children are bobbing and weaving to avoid getting nailed in the forehead every time they race by me with endeavors of achieving the last bowl of cereal.

Another prime example is when its time to go to the bathroom-  I don’t even bother to lock, or for that matter shut the door anymore as inevitability  ensures that at least one of my children will invade my space. They  will interrupt my sessions with the intent of conversing on the important matters of Star Wars or to inform me that we are out of milk. Often times I will be asked to critique their artwork or settle a various disputes among them. I used to beg for 5 damn minutes of privacy, but they’ve warn me down and I’m too damn tired. I’m just happy with full roll of toilet paper.

As far as my wife goes, we’ve also become complacent with impressing each other. We don’t hide our bodies from each other, we have discussions while  one of us is in the shower, and also converse over daily struggles during an occasional potty break when the bathroom actually happens to be quiet for a few minutes. We must reign from whatever peaceful space while we have the chance.

Making school lunches half naked is only part of our family’s forte- sacrifices are made and proper etiquette is often ignored, but at least the kids make to the school bus on time. Circumstances may still be hectic, like when my daughter loses her mind because her socks just don’t sit right in her sneaker, or when my son has a conniption when we force him to brush is teeth before the required departure time. But the job gets done. Our family system is constantly adapting and evolving as we become comfortable with each other. We have scenarios where one kid might be pooping while a sibling will be brushing his teeth right next to them. Funnier still is when they make the switch- the one who was on the potty is now brushing their teeth while the other is pooping. As long as they both wash their hands I can’t complain about the route of efficiency they decided to take. If a family member leaves a glass of water unmanned then go ahead hydrate yourself. No one cares. 

I love that we can be at ease with each other and not always fret the formalities of living together. It can also crack me up. When my son starts pretend pole dancing against the banister completely nude we can’t help but laugh. We’ve also loosened the reigns on the way they speak to each other. For example after my 14 year old son blew out the candles on his recent birthday, my youngest son of 8 years said to him “Hey what did ya wish for? A penis? One that’s bigger than mine?” Instead of reprimanding him we allowed ourselves to laugh after the initial shock wore off.

Being at ease with family members also helps everyone manage their day more effectively as a team and individually as well. The other day I had to rush my youngest daughter somewhere and I opted to go #1 before leaving, and my daughter decided to brush her teeth at same time, so there we stood, handling our business, back to back.

 

 

Over the past recent years my children have been more engrossed with easily accessible media, whether it be television, their kindles, iPods and the like. Through such easy access they often hear and see content suited for ages well beyond their years. One of those topics includes love and sex. When my children were younger and still fell short of comprehending the actual acts of sexual intercourse, we gave vague explanations of how babies are made or what actually transpires between a man and woman during love making. We consistently defined such acts with snuggling and kissing, yet my children became more inquisitive along the way with suspicions that there was always much more involved. Of course they were correct, but how were we to go about offering any details?

My youngest son, now 8 years old, seems to have always been overly eager to investigate the workings of the female anatomy. We jokingly referred to him as our “little pervert” ever since he was 3 years old, specifically after catching him flip through Victoria’s secret catalogs. I still remember checking on him one evening shortly after sending him to bed, as he was unusually quiet in such a brief time span after retiring to his room. I peeked into his dark bedroom to discover that he was reading a magazine with the assistance of a toy miner’s helmet equipped with a headlamp. My first reaction was pride- my 3 year old was reading books already! or at least attempting to!! When I asked the little guy what he was reading he held the Victoria’s Secret magazine in the air and said “Boobies”!! Of course I had to laugh but I also felt proud that he was not shy of presenting his interest in women. As the years went by he remained as intrigued as ever, always asking questions. Until recently, if you had asked him how babies were made he still was under the ideology of what we had also explained to him…..that a man and a woman lie down and start kissing, followed by the man putting a seed from his mouth to the woman’s, she swallows and the baby starts growing in her belly. It may seem silly, but as parents we were not always prepared with the proper and quick explanations to many questions our children had.

In this last week I decided to sit down with my son and give him the real scoop on what intercourse and conception entailed. After delivering the news he simply ensued with “Bravo! That’s gross but awesome!” I nearly fell apart.

Although we were certain my 10 year old daughter was aware of the factual process we confirmed the same to her and she just quietly melted in anguish, softly asking if that’s what we did to make our children. After giving the affirmative thumbs up she replied with “So you had to do that to Mom FOUR times? Ugggh”. My son chimed in with “They probably do it a lot more than that!!!” – to which we all had to laugh.

One of the reasons we thought it was time to divulge the proper information was because we preferred they heard the facts from us rather than from TV or friends. There are even some films falling under the PG rating in which cases of rape and sexual abuse may play undertones. With such topics at hand we furthered the sex talk into those areas as well. We wanted our children to understand the severity of criminal acts relating to molestation and other abuses so that they could understand the monstrosities many people are subjected to in this world, and moreover begin ingraining street smarts. My children were floored when I revealed a main purpose of child abduction, and were shocked that it was not just directed at young females but boys as well. They thought such things were absolutely horrific yet simultaneously enlightening. Things made sense.

I want my children to respect the connection people make when they are intimate, yet I also want them to walk the streets with open eyes in order to prevent pieces of shit sickos from taking advantage of them. I want them to stay sharp.

My son still “offers” to get the mail in hopes that he’ll have at least the length of the driveway to check out a lingerie magazine, still jokes about wanting to salami a hot babe, and still humps the banister periodically, but at least he’ll grow with some perspective of how things physically work and respect the opposite sex.

 

In the midst of the Orlando massacre I almost opted not to post material of my usual nature today, however I decided that Americans must continue their ways in an effort not to let these extremists get the better of us. So just to spite the fuckers that create terror I will post this piece I had written hours before I personally discovered the incident in Florida.

Here we go.

Whether you’re 2 years old or 82 years old, some things never cease to be humorous. Whether you’re a stay at home parent, or the CEO of a blue chip corporation some things never cease to make us laugh. Whether you are in a crowded room,  standing alone with a stranger in an elevator, or sitting at the dinner table with your family some things just simply cannot cease to make us chuckle. One of those things happens to be the timeless and au natural art of passing gas.

Not too long ago my day began just as any other. I awoke early enough to run out for coffees, make the children lunches for school and leave the house in timely fashion to hit the gym before going to work. Just before leaving the gym I felt my belly grumble, yet I didn’t give it much thought at the time. As I was driving the 5 minute route from the gym to the office I passed some gas in the car. It was one of those poppers in which the freed gas actually possessed bubble like properties and edged its way up my crack and begged me to lean forward in order to be able to jump out of the back of my pants. In a hurry the bubble erupted, resulting in an odor that seized any fresh oxygen within the automobile. Of course cracking the window only circulated this toxic monstrosity throughout the Subaru like a tornado in Kansas. I had to laugh to myself as I imagined what looks and comments I would have received had my family been in the car with me. Yes, I laughed to myself.

After arriving at the office I felt the grumbling grow rapidly and realized that the experience in my car had only been the beginning. As little gases continued to leak Chernobyl like toxins, a trainee who sat close to me in the office began to simultaneously cower, cringe and wince with nowhere to hide. I found this rather amusing and commenced working on my aim as I released further radioactive spats of bitter currents his way. I was unable to evoke containment of my laughter and arrogantly even swayed newspaper in order to develop circulatory wind patterns at the distress of my colleagues. I was completely entertained. Funnily enough all of those who were affected by my nuclear seepage could not help but laugh as well, even though they begged for mercy.

The grumbling continued.

Later that day I arrived at home, entered the kitchen and nabbed some bites of dinner whilst chatting with my kids about their day. Suddenly a dark and hot gaseous strain of venom escaped through the thick fabric of my jeans and collided with the loving people I call family. My wife, in horror, asked what was wrong with me, yet with an uncomfortable smirk. My children laughed but also thought it was gross. Even the dog looked at me with concern. And I chuckled feverishly. As I continued to rip platoons of radically horrific napalm bombs my family pleaded with surrender – yet they still in some awkward fashion found it humorous.  At one point my wife could not bear it any longer, and in front of the children proceeded to yell at me “are you still shitting your pants?”, to which my 8 year old son spit out all of his dinner in laughter. He repeated my wife’s words, laughing all the while, “hahahahaha shitting your pants”……. and all of us had to giggle.

The moral of the story is that farts will always be funny, no matter how horrible they may seem. I think of my kids tooting away at inopportune moments, whether it be in a restaurant or other public venues. At the time I may be embarrassed but I do in some form find it funny as well. Sometimes my children let one go from laughing too hard, or when they sneeze so abruptly resulting in a SHART that requires a double check to see if they are in need of fresh underpants. And we don’t get mad- we find it rather amusing. I loved it when the rude lady at the cash register was gifted with a rotten treat my 13 year old left lingering for her to deal with throughout the next few customers- it was awesome. That will teach her to reprimand my children without authority. I bet her nose hairs are still growing back.

Or the waitress who conveyed such lack of patience for a family with kids? My awesome 6 year old practically shit her double chocolate dessert just as we paid the check, and I remember waiting for the smoke alarms to engage. As we were leaving my wife and I looked back and noticed how the mean waitress nearly dropped the plates she collected from our table due to the hard hitting wall of flatulence my darling daughter left behind. Karma is a bitch lady!

How about that elevator ride with a stranger? You hope they get off at the 2nd floor so you can hold it in a touch longer, but they press the 11th floor button and unknowingly enter the danger zone as you drop it like it’s hot and get off at the 3rd floor. You laugh your brains out as you leave this person to experience a ghastly chamber of fumes for 9 floors. I’m laughing right now as I still wonder how that poor lady survived!

Or how about when you are sitting at one of your children’s spring concerts, and one of those lingering demons escapes as you cross your legs. I have a tactic though… I quickly look around as though someone else has just violated my area, causing the other parents around me to suspect each other.  It’s just too funny watching the parents’ faces as they hope they don’t get blamed for the thick smog that has surfaced from my deepest inner vault. And you know what? Although everyone thinks its yucky, they all smile as they band together and pinch their nostrils shut. Farts may cause uncomfortable situations, but they are always funny- at least in retrospect.

“Bottom burps” are a often just reminders that we are still in touch with our our inner child- no pun intended. In some strange order of things, we all find humor in laughing gas.

 

 

It has recently dawned on me that one day, in the not too distant future, my children will become too old for snuggles and cuddling. My oldest daughter is now 10 and still begs for me to lie with her until she falls asleep. She’s by far the easiest child to sleep with and she’s just as yummy to snuggle up to as the day she was born. Yet I fear that the day will come soon where she either no longer wishes to have me get comfy in that awesome bed of hers, or where snuggling with my daughter becomes a punishable offense. The latter of course has it’s boundaries but I question when that day will come.

My 10 year old daughter happens to be the Einstein of the family which in turn makes it extremely difficult to win an argument, or at the least calls for hiring a lawyer in order to escape said argument somewhat unscathed. Her vocabulary is unparalleled to a point where I continue the conversation as if I know exactly what she has said, but I then sneak off to google the words on my phone. She is however, still my baby and often requires the love and affection any girl her age deserves.  In the evenings she still longs for either my wife or myself to snuggle her before we retreat into the sanctuary of a quiet house and find some time for ourselves to relax. She’s usually the last one awake, fighting the fatigue that has finally sought her out, all in an effort to be close with us. So what happens when she starts getting closer to womanhood? Or at least teenager status? Do we just get cut off from snuggling from one day to the next? Her hair still has that baby smell, and much like Frank Barone (Everybody Loves Raymond) I often cash in on any opportunity to “suck in the youth”.

Will my children remember the days that their Papa snuggled them to sleep, or warmed them up at bedtime on a cold winter’s night? My 6 year old daughter and 8 year old son persistently urge us to snuggle them in the retiring hours of the day. We are still asked to read to them or tell them funny stories of when we were children. Will they remember us sleeping in their beds while clutching the puke bucket in one arm and their feverish, quivering bodies in the other? Will they remember seeking us out in the middle of the night to find comfort from nightmares or the simple longing to be with Mama and Papa?

My almost 14 year son of course requires no snuggles,  and it would frankly be quite awkward if he still did. He’s entering his freshmen year, dealing with puberty and other challenges brought forth by adolescence. Yet I feel sad about it- did I take all the bedtime opportunities I could have when he was little? Did I tell him enough stories? Sing enough songs to put him to sleep? Did I hold him tight enough with reassurance when he tried to sleep with Chicken pox? Did I make sure he always at his cup of water to get him through the night? I feel like I didn’t.

I guess the oldest of siblings are often our best teachers as parents. We realize, through them, that there are “last times” for everything when your children grow. The last butt wiping, the last song they need to fall asleep, the last of running your fingers through their hair as they doze off. The last little kisses on the neck to sooth them as they are coiled against your chest. The last of covering their cold feet with your warm legs. The last time you fall asleep in their beds.

As much as I take pride in my children’s growth and progress, I can’t help but wish to turn back time. And they’re still young. Will that wish haunt me forever with even stronger remiss?

I can tell you one thing-  when it comes time for my youngest child’s “last” snuggles, they will have to fucking rip me away- even if it means  getting arrested for snuggling.