Monthly Archives: October 2009

Happy Halloween

Sometimes I hate working on Saturday nights. Tonight is no exception. While I’m in the office my wife and son are trick-or-treating. Look at how cute they are:

Oh well. I hope everyone else has a great Halloween. Stay safe. And if you’re on the Cape, stay out of trouble or else I’ll be the one writing about you.

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My Halloween Evolution

Check out Fatherhood Friday over at Dad-Blogs.

(***First off, everyone wish a Happy Birthday to my brother Nate. He’s 28 today and he’s coming up to visit from Baltimore! Happy Birthday!!!)

There are only three types of people in this world I don’t trust:

Yankees fans, vegetarians and people who don’t absolutely love Halloween.

Seriously, what’s not to love about Oct. 31? You can dress up in totally weird/funny/sick costumes and no one looks at you funny. You get to watch scary horror movies. Pumpkins are involved. If you’re a kid it’s the one day of the year you’re allowed to eat all the candy you want, and if you’re adult you’ll most likely be dressing up like a moron and drinking copious amounts of alcohol.

No matter how old you are, Halloween is a win-win.

But I will admit, it has changed dramatically over the years. I guess that’s only normal right? Life is cyclical and as we get older and gain more life experience, annual events like Halloween are bound to mean different things to each of us at various points in our lives. For example:

When I was a little kid I loved Halloween because we could wear costumes to school. My earliest memory of a Halloween costume was when I was 5 and my parents wrapped me in Ace bandages and I went as a mummy. The only problem is when I was little, I was a huge pussy. Everything scared me. That didn’t stop me from enjoying when I scared other people, but if someone dared turn the tables on me I would cry like a bitch.

Fast forward a few years and my Halloween memories take me directly back to my grandmother’s house. She lived on a quiet, suburban street and had a shitload of trick-or-treaters every year. Her house was notorious among local kids because she went all out and made it a haunted house. She had half-buried bodies in the front yard along with a slew of tombstones. When the scared kids got to the doorstep, they were greeted by my uncle wearing a grotesque mask that had blood dripping from its mouth as chains rattled around his legs. My grandmother — who was a piano teacher and sang in the Boston Pops — would be dressed like a witch playing scary music on the piano and laughing maniacally. It was really, really cool.

Except one year, we scared one of the kids a little too much. My grandmother always placed fake bodies outside, and one year we got the idea to plant a real person among the dummies. So the kids would walk up the steps with a false sense of security, and then BOOM, one of us would jump from our prone position amidst the fake bodies and scare the piss out of them. Well, my mom jumped out at one kid and he got so scared his reflexes kicked in and he punched her right in the face.

In high school things changed a bit, and like most teenagers I was too cool for Halloween. That was for little kids, and dammit I was a man now. Of course that didn’t stop me from sneaking off and collecting some candy when my friends weren’t looking.

College was when my love and appreciation for Halloween was rekindled. Just picture thousands of parentally liberated, horny young adults all getting together while imbibing alcohol on Satan’s holiday. More important, I learned a very crucial thing about women and Halloween. Neil Patrick Harris said it best on the TV show How I Met Your Mother:

“You know what I love about Halloween? It’s the one night of the year chicks use to unleash their inner ho-bag.”

Never were truer words spoken. College Halloween parties were legendary. All the girls were barely dressed. They all chose to go as Playboy bunnies, slutty nurses, French maids…it was truly a thing of beauty. And not only were they barely dressed, they were also trashed. Hell, when I attended my first college Halloween party I was dressed as a chick. I had a black dress with a slip up to my hip, fishnet stockings and HUGE balloon boobs. Of course my girlfriend had dumped me two days prior to be with another woman, so in hindsight this may have been a confusing time for me. But it was great nonetheless, and it meant the meaning of Halloween was forever changed.

Since then, my costumes have been pretty low maintenance. One year I cut out a bunch of pictures of hot chicks from magazines, taped them all over my body and went as a chick magnet. Another year I tied a bow around myself and attached a tag to my wrist that said “From: God, To: Women” and I went as God’s gift to women. You get the point, I’m a moron. But that’s OK because Halloween is one night adults can be morons.

We do stupid shit like dress up as Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter, with a stingray attached to our chests. One buddy dressed as a piece of shit one year. Another guy I know wore a cardboard box and attached a shelf to the front of it, with a sign that said “Free Mammograms.” How can you not love Halloween?

But now that I have a son, Halloween has changed once again. Now it’s all about the little guy. Last year he was a devil. Very cute.

This year, due to his love of monkeys, we got him a monkey suit. And damned if he isn’t the cutest fucking monkey I’ve ever seen.

Well, apparently he’s a White Supremacist monkey in that last picture. I’m not sure what that’s all about, but it’s cute nonetheless.

So c’mon people, tell me about your all time favorite Halloween costumes, and what Halloween means to you. Do you make a big deal out of it, either yourselves or with your kids.

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Lame Picture Post

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Will, Urine Trouble!

There was an…incident, on Monday.

Will was watching Handy Manny on TV, happily enjoying his morning milk when Nature called to me. So I walked to the bathroom and I started to pee. And since we’re slowly trying to get Will used to the idea of going in the potty, I’ve been instructed to leave the door open when I’m peeing so Will can watch (and hopefully emulate) me.

Truthfully, it’s somewhat difficult to “perform” when someone is watching you intently and chronicling your every move. Sort of like prison, I imagine.

So I’m in the habit of leaving the door open when I pee, and Will usually follows me in there. But seeing as it was so early in the morning, I really wasn’t paying attention. And because he was in his ultra soft and comfy feety pajamas, I didn’t hear him walk over to me.

Suddenly, in my sleepy haze and right in the middle of peeing, I hear a cute little voice chirp “Dada, pee pee?” It caught me off guard. But not nearly as much as when Will decided to prove to me that he knew exactly what a pee pee was, by pointing at it.

Except…well…he got a little too close when he pointed.

Yup. He put his hand in the stream. All of a sudden piss was spraying everywhere. I didn’t help matters by momentarily freaking out and shifting my position. Just in case you ladies haven’t heard, stopping in mid-stream is painful and quite honestly it takes a few seconds to turn the hose off. That means when I turned, I got more piss on my son, myself and my surroundings.

You can read all you want about potty training, but there is no section about what to do when you accidentally urinate on your own son. I checked.

Maybe I’m the one who needs to be potty trained.

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Coming Home

You’ve all had “that day.”

You’re at work and nothing goes right. Maybe you did something wrong and your boss called you on it. Or, even more frustrating, maybe you did everything right and your boss is still giving you shit. Perhaps you deal with customers all day and had the misfortune of interacting with some real jerks. Whatever the reason, we all have those days at work when everything goes wrong. And if you’re someone like me who takes everything personally, sometimes it’s nearly impossible to leave work stress at work, and invariably you end up taking it home with you.

In the past, these bad vibes would cling to me like an Acme magnet in a cartoon. They’d follow me right into the house and end up wreaking havoc with my personal life. I’d be short tempered, MJ would take offense to it and we’d end up in a stupid fight for no reason at all.

I had one of those days last week. I got home before MJ and Will, and despite knowing I needed to shake things off, I couldn’t. I could feel myself slipping into a negative funk, unable to let what happened at work roll off my back. The inevitable fight this would cause was playing in my head like a movie reel. I cringed at the thought of it but didn’t think I could do anything about it.

I saw MJ pull into her parking spot down the hill. She got out of the car, let Will out of his carseat and grabbed a few bags. I figured I should help her. As I walked down the hill toward her I was already preparing to bitch about my day and unload everything on her, when my negative thoughts were pierced by a joyful little chirp.


Will had spotted me, and immediately began running up the hill to greet me with open arms and a huge smile on his face. He ran at me full speed and threw his arms around my legs and buried his head between my knees. Then he tilted his head up at me and puckered  up for a kiss.

And just like that, everything else dissolved. All the negativity and angst I had been feeling all day was gone in an instant, with nothing more than one toothy smile and a hug from the person I love most in this whole world.

Over the weekend I was talking to a friend who is thinking about having kids. He was worried about such a huge lifestyle change and how a child uproots your life. And he’s right, it’s a huge change. Sleepless nights, screaming, worrying, diaper changes, 2 am feedings, no vacations…those are all part of the deal when you sign the parental contract. But the upside is an adorable little boy who is so thrilled to death by your mere presence that he wants nothing more than to just be near you. It’s getting to watch him sleep as you run your hands along his fingers, toes and through his hair, wondering how the hell you ever created something so amazing.

All you need is to experience one moment like that one and you’ll know why having kids is worth all the excruciatingly hard work. No matter what else happens in your life, you’ll always want to come home.

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