It’s Official: I’m a Parent!

This post also appeared on www.capecodonline.com/blogs in the opinion section of the Cape Cod Times, a division of Ottaway Newspapers, Inc.

OK, so I guess technically it was official the day Will was born. But after last night the kid has officially invaded every single part of my life. Allow me to explain…

I was having a FANTASTIC dream last night. Usually I don’t remember my dreams, but there was no forgetting this one. I was living in some nice, big house and down in the finished basement was my ManTown. If you’re not familiar with the term, ManTown describes that one beautiful, glorious spot in the house that belongs solely to a husband. Usually it’s a garage or the basement, you know…somewhere out of sight where we can’t be seen, heard or smelled. I don’t have one now because our condo is too small, but I’ve always dreamed of one.

And last night in my dream, I had the mother of all ManTowns. Shag carpeting covered the floor and the walls were all wood paneling which I love. Not the nice wood paneling that’s worth something. I’m talking about the cheesy and tacky fake wood paneling from 25 years ago. I love that stuff. And I had a fully stocked bar down there and a 50″ plasma TV hanging on the wall. The place was decked out in autographed Red Sox and Patriots pictures and decorations and the Bose surround sound system really brought it all together.

But as I was admiring my newly found ManTown, the dream got even better. All of a sudden I was surrounded by beautiful women. Redheads with green eyes and freckles and very large….ummm….eyes! One of them turned on the TV and the Patriots popped on the screen. I was mildly horrified because it looked like a replay of  February’s Super Bowl where the Patriots crushed me with a loss to the Giants. But just as I was about to scream, Redhead #1 smiled at me and said “Don’t worry, it’s OK.” And just then Eli Manning’s last pass of the game — which in reality was a touchdown that sealed our fate — was intercepted and returned for a touchdown as the Patriots captured their fourth Super Bowl title in seven years.

Then Redhead #2 changed the channel again and I nearly choked on my own vomit. I recognized the game immediately. It was Game 7 of the 2003 ALCS when the Red Sox played the Yankees. Bottom of the 8th inning with Pedro Martinez on the mound and the Sox staked to a 5-2 lead. I bolted up in my seat, my stomach in knots at the fear of watching one of the worst moments of my sporting life flash before my eyes again. This is the game Grady Little inexplicably left Pedro in as the Yankees tied it up, eventually sending it to extra innings where Aaron (bleeping) Boone hits a soul-wrenching homer off Tim Wakefield in the bottom of the 11th. But before I could protest, Redhead #2 kissed me and simultaneously shed herself of her clothes. “It’s OK sweetie,” she cooed in my ear. And just like that, Grady walked out to the mound, removed Pedro from the game and Mike Timlin got out of the inning. Red Sox win.

At this point, after purging myself of my most horrifying sports memories, my Army of Redheads made it abundantly clear they had more amorous intentions in mind. And while every part of me wanted to indulge, I felt guilty because I just couldn’t cheat on MJ. But that’s when my beautiful wife appeared in my dream. At first I thought I was in trouble for having all these women in ManTown as MJ started to yell at me.

“How dare you!” she barked at me as I struggled to free myself from the Redheads. But before I could even defend myself, MJ was talking again. “How dare you start making out with the Redheads without me.”

Jackpot. Officially the best. dream. ever!

And as I settled back into my comfortable leather couch, being simultaneously mauled by hot redheads with my gorgeous wife leading the charge, I began to hear this noise. Sounded like crying and whimpering. I struggled to hear it through my harem’s mad dash to cover every inch of my body with kisses, but I knew immediately that it was Will. And since MJ and I were both in ManTown, that meant no one was taking care of Will.

Without even thinking, I began pushing all of my hot women off me but they were none too pleased. They fought and tried to keep me pinned down but there was no way I was letting my little boy cry in his room alone. I started throwing haymakers, kicking my feet, swinging my arms wildly…anything to get free of their love grip on me.

And that’s when I woke up, covered in sweat and panting profusely. I looked around, a little confused, and realized I heard Will cry over the monitor. I got up and went into the nursery to check on him. He looked at me with sleepy eyes and I readjusted him slightly so he wasn’t laying directly on top of his pacifier. He gave me a slight smile as his eyes rolled back in his head and he drifted back to sleep. I wonder if he knew that his daddy had just given up the healing of his deepest sports wounds and a bevy of morally casual babes just to come to his rescue.

But either way, when your kids even find a way to take over your dreams that’s when you know you’re officially consumed with parenthood.

And for what it’s worth, if I could have that dream over again but had to choose between the girls or the revised sporting events…I’d take the Sox and Pats winning!

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