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Posts Tagged ‘socks’
5
Armpit of the House, My Closet Gets Deodorant
By Daddy Clay Monday, March 19th, 2012
The Pit
Spring has sprung here in Central Texas. The wildflowers are blooming and that means one thing: Dad’s closet stinks like a old meat locker full of nesting skunks. The Season of Sweat is here, and for dads like me that are into running and fitness, it’s a time of year when I am annually threatened with eviction on the grounds of excessive stench.
Dealing with my own closet stink has led me to gathering a certain amount of olfactory wisdom which I shall now impart.
My feet stink. Ever since I started running longer distances, my feet reek like Roquefort. The fumes are compounded because as my fitness enthusiasm has grown, so has my athletic shoe collection. I’ve got two pairs of “active” shoes that I run in, one retired pair that I wear most days, other pairs for gym workouts or trail runs — all contributing to a symphony of phew. Read the rest of this entry »
Newsflash: WSJ Reports Choreplay Works!
By Daddy Clay Wednesday, October 21st, 2009
Grab those vacuums and get to work boys. Doing housework gets you laid!
There was an interesting article in the WSJ today about a report that recently came out indicating that more housework leads to more sex. in other words, choreplay works.
Here’s an excerpt from the article:
“The study defined housework as nine chores: cleaning, preparing meals, washing dishes, washing and ironing clothes, driving family members around, shopping, yard work, maintaining cars and paying bills. Wives in the study spent an average 41.8 hours a week on these tasks, compared with 23.4 hours for husbands—a split that is fairly typical, and often regarded by wives as unfair. However, the effects of any fairness concerns among wives weren’t measured in this study.
Outside the home, husbands spent an average 33.8 hours a week on paid work, compared with 19.7 hours for wives. Couples reported having sex 82.7 times a year on average, or 1.6 times a week, about the same as in other studies.”
Read the complete text here.
I’d also like to say, hats off to all the dads out there scoring 1.6 times a week. I’d ask what exactly qualifies as .6th of sex, but I think I know all too well.
And for the DadLabs take on this, you can check out my conversation with the lovely Romi Lassally of Parentsask.com and trumomconfessions.com. Or you can watch Daddy Brad make sweet, sweet love to his socks.
What My Kids Give Me Crap For
By Daddy Clay Monday, May 11th, 2009
I spent a fair amount of Quality Time with the kids this weekend, with Mother’s Day and soccer winding down, which means, of course, that I caught a ton of shit.
Karma dictated that the day would come. The day when the kids would be old enough for the primary point of conversation to become giving dad a hard time regarding his various frailties and failings. And that day has come.
On the trip to watch our local semi-pro soccer team, the Austin Aztex, play (I’m shooting a Quality Time episode tomorrow, dedicated to Ben, about the charms of watching professional soccer), the barrage was pretty much non-stop. What bemuses me is that the things that my beloved children really hone in on are things that I would expect that the family would support. I understand they need to poke fun; I even enjoy the give and take. What I don’t understand is how they have chosen the subject matter for their ribbing.
In short, my handsome workout apparel and my somewhat enthusiastic approach to car maintenance have been targeted.
Have you ever seen one of those spinning sprinklers? This is what I look like when I exercise. Basically, my big bald dome becomes a fountain worthy of a Vegas casino whenever I take more than three jogging steps. To address this situation, I very sensibly wear absorbent headbands. And because of the quantity were talking about here, I find the extra-wide terri-cloth headbands work best. It pretty much looks like a skull cap with the top cut off.
Why my kids find this worthy of ridicule, I have no idea.
And *of course* I pull my knee socks up! If they bunch around the ankles, it could cause circulation problems. Please. What they find so funny about my practical approach, I have no idea.
And as far as the cars are concerned, there is no end to the grief that gets rained down on me on this topic. Do I get mad when *they* forget to spread the plastic sheeting out before sitting down? No. I patiently spread it out for them, then vacuum the storage area in the trunk where the sheeting is kept in case any dirt came off of it while it was being stored. My wife joins in the attack, wondering aloud why I don’t pay as much attention to the carpet in the house. The obvious answer: I didn’t make monthly payments for five years on the carpet in the house!
Sure, I understand that there are days when the kids wish that they could put their feet down when we’re out running errands, but they also must appreciate getting into a minivan with freshly rotated tires. They act like they don’t, but I can see right through that ruse! Besides, keeping the feet up is good for the abs.
I’m curious, do your kids latch onto and mock your very sensible behaviors? Please share.
Dad Needs A Sideline Makeover
By Daddy Clay Friday, April 10th, 2009
I can pinpoint the very instant that my oldest son became a tween. It was the moment right after I called out to him on the soccer field, shouting my encouragement. He looked over to the sideline. I gave him the thumbs up. He shook his head. He rolled his eyes. He looked skyward. He shook his head some more.
I took stock. Why would the boy be expressing such exasperation at me?
Was it the camp chair? As far as soccer-dad folding camp chairs go, mine was pretty no-frills. I was proud of the thing because I got it for $1.79 at Bass Pro Shops. So what if it has a giant Largemouth Bass on the back? It’s for sitting in. And besides, the art pointed away from the field, so that was an unlikely source of disapproval.
Was it was the knee socks? Bubba prefers ankle socks for himself, and since he has gotten so Gi-normous (see picture below), our socks are constantly getting mixed up. My solution was to buy a mega-costco pack of knee-high athletic socks. Sock-mixup problem solved. I don’t like to push these socks down around my ankles because they restrict the circulation and leave indentations. So I wear them high and proud. The ladies found that look quite fetching in 1978, so what’s the diff?
Maybe it was the “Damn Seagulls” cap from our recent trip to Port A. The realistic simulated bird poop on the brim was a hit with the other dads on the sideline, as usual. So that couldn’t be it.
That just leaves the poncho.
The weather last weekend was unusual for Central Texas in April: clear blue sky and temps in the 60s, but a very chilly wind, blowing a steady 20+ mph, right into the spectators faces. I tried sitting in the camp chair backwards, but this offered little protection (and created a bit of a hubbub when several other dads had to be called to get me out of the thing — awkward).
Luckily, I always carry in the trunk of my car, next to the survival kit and the airpump/battery jump station, a big blue plastic poncho with a yellow hood. I can’t tell you how many times that little puppy has kept me from getting drenched! Well, it’s also the perfect windbreaker. Once I got it wrapped around me and carefully tucked into the camp chair, I was comfy as can be, and ready to cheer on my boy!
Once I’m settled in, I belt out my patented cheer — I yell out his jersey number in a special way so he’ll know it’s his old man.
“Let’s go big Two-Two.”
And then he gives me the eye roll.
Tweens. Sheesh.
