"They're coming to take me away, ha ha"
I can't quite figure out why, but when I take Connor out in public, just the two of us, I feel a little weird. For example, the first day we went to a playground by ourselves after moving here, I felt like either the cops were going to come to see what I was doing with this kid or that I would be asked to leave the premises because I was disturbing the other families. Maybe this feeling stems from my awareness that I don't look like most moms (I've got a full sleeve of tattoos and I wear camouflage a lot...and I'm a dude), but I'm more inclined to believe that it has something to do with me jumping in headfirst as the primary parent after being in much more of a supporting role for the last 15-plus months. I guess I'll have to get used to it, though I have gotten some strange looks.
Today, Connor and I drove to the vet to pick up heartworm medicine for our dog, Murphy. Being that we live in the boonies, the vet happens to be about 30 minutes away. The trip up was fine (windows down, Soul Coughing on the iPod), but on the way back (after a 30-minute MapQuest-sponsored detour and a 45-minute diversion at the local mall to give Mr. Restless a chance to stretch his legs and rest his lungs) we hit a rough patch. Connor was already pretty miffed at having spent a large portion of his waking time in a carseat when we hit a painful stretch of bumper-to-bumper traffic on the interstate — which just doesn't happen here. We were only a mile-and-a-quarter from our exit, but we were crawling along and he was not happy about it. At about this time, I was desperately wishing for a privacy screen like a limousine would have, that I could put up between the front and back seat because he was hollering like a madman. Cookies? No thanks. Juice? No way Toys? They were flung at the back of my head instantaneously.
But, we finally made it home, not too worse for the wear, had a snack, Connor announced he had a "pooper" (and immediately made good on his promise) and all was right with the world again...and not a moment too soon.
Today, Connor and I drove to the vet to pick up heartworm medicine for our dog, Murphy. Being that we live in the boonies, the vet happens to be about 30 minutes away. The trip up was fine (windows down, Soul Coughing on the iPod), but on the way back (after a 30-minute MapQuest-sponsored detour and a 45-minute diversion at the local mall to give Mr. Restless a chance to stretch his legs and rest his lungs) we hit a rough patch. Connor was already pretty miffed at having spent a large portion of his waking time in a carseat when we hit a painful stretch of bumper-to-bumper traffic on the interstate — which just doesn't happen here. We were only a mile-and-a-quarter from our exit, but we were crawling along and he was not happy about it. At about this time, I was desperately wishing for a privacy screen like a limousine would have, that I could put up between the front and back seat because he was hollering like a madman. Cookies? No thanks. Juice? No way Toys? They were flung at the back of my head instantaneously.
But, we finally made it home, not too worse for the wear, had a snack, Connor announced he had a "pooper" (and immediately made good on his promise) and all was right with the world again...and not a moment too soon.
posted by Carter at 9:16 PM
6 Comments:
Hey just stopped by and saved you to my favorites I am a single dad. (My ex-wife died of Breast Cancer) Anyway, what caught my eye was your title. That is one of my favorite lines from Mr. Mom! Am I the only one ever to guess that one?
i TOTALLY didn't get it. I figured out it was some reference that I was supposed to get; but I didn't. I also don't think I've seen Mr. Mom in 15 years anyway. Mike Keaton, right?
I think we're all sexist. I saw a man pick up two kids walking home from school yesterday (the kids CLEARLY knew him...I think I even heard one say, "Daddy") and yet I had the fleeting thought that I should probably go in the house and call the cops. But then again I have that thought relatively often in our neighborhood.
I get cranky when I have to poop in the car too!
I for one am glad you don't look like most moms...I'm especially glad you wear camo instead of "mom pants."
that's the same thing i pictured... a big ol' carter belly stuffed in some mom jeans. and i thought the blog title had to do with the area codes. so much for that theory.
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