New Life of Dad Post

Poop Deck Community,
I have a new post up on Life of Dad. Please go check it out! Double play Wednesday! Have a great day.
Captain out.

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Trash Talk

Captain’s Log. Daddy Chronicles. Diaper Date 2120. One of the many chores duties that I perform is being the waste management officer of our household.
That’s right…I take out the trash.
It is a fairly routine disgusting weekly ritual. I walk the rooms, empty the cans, and then take the bags to the curb. The trash man and I have not always been on the best terms. There was the time he refused to take my Christmas tree because it exceeded the 3 foot limit (it was 3.5 feet). So I shaved a half foot off and left the tree and clipped limb on the tree lawn (that’s what we call it where I’m from) for him to get.
Then there was the time it rained and the grass clippings bag broke. That joker took the bag and left the clippings on a piece of cardboard.
Then there was the time that the bag that had the cat litter exceeded the weight limit and so he left it there.
But my all time favorite? The time he yelled at me to hurry during the great ice storm of 2011. He came unexpectedly (trash pickup had been canceled for two days straight) and I as I walked slid down the ice covered driveway he barked at me to hurry. I slammed my can down in front of his truck (more because I lost my balance). He grumbled something under his breath, jumped out of his truck, snatched my trash can, and then proceeded to slip and fall. I laughed under my breath and then skated up my driveway. Captain 1 – Grumpy Trashman 0.
But I digress. We have a new trashman and I am not sure what he thinks of us yet. I will be really curious tomorrow. Mrs. Captain did some purging of broken toys. So buried in my can is a bag of misfit toys. The problem? There is a duck that still quacks. It’s a little freaky. It’s like the part of Peter and the Wolf where you can still hear the duck after he has been swallowed whole by the wolf. I still cry for that duck, but not this one. This is one broken Duck Dynasty.
Hopefully, it does not freak out the nice garbage man in the morning. I would hate to ruffle his feathers. Hopefully, it makes him chuckle a bit. In fact, I hope it QUACKS him up. For now…Captain out.
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Pirates We Be

Captain’s Log.  Daddy Chronicles.  Diaper Date 2119.  So the Captain has been searching for some cool summertime activities to do with the crew.  I was gazing outside when I realized –  we don’t have a pirate flag.

So the plan today is to procure the necessary materials to create a flag to fly atop our playset.

So I did what any modern dad does.  I googled pirate pictures and sat with The Eldest to see what style she liked the best.  To my astonishment, she wants a mean looking pirate.  The chances of that happening are slim to none because The Captain is not a great artist. But I am also wondering if The Eldest is taking this pirate thing a bit too close to heart, and if Mrs. Captain and I should sleep with one eye open. I guess only time will tell.

I’m not sure how to make a stick figure skull and bones, but I have a feeling that we will see one when this is said and done.  And it may have a smile.

There is another project that I am attempting to construct, but I am going to keep that one under wraps for now.  Pictures to follow soon, we hope.

In the meantime, while The Captain is cruising around looking for Pirate supplies, what summertime activities do you enjoy the most over the summer?  Leave me some love in the comments below.

For now…Captain out!

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My Daughter Is NOT Your GIRLFRIEND

Captain’s Log.  Daddy Chronicles.  Diaper Date 2115.  As a teacher I know that there are many times that I have to intercede and settle petty disputes.  While I do not consider myself as wise as King Solomon, I hope that I am fair in my judgments  As a father, I have also had to make certain rulings.  Sometimes these rulings involve siblings, neighbors, friends, etc.  Be it as a father or a teacher, it is hard because you can’t make everyone happy.

However, sometimes it gets personal.  And last week it got personal.

In my classroom we deal with the difference between connotation and denotation.,  I like to compare connotations to baggage that words have – sometimes that baggage is a good thing and sometimes it can be negative.,  Rarely is it indifferent.

My daughter has friends of both genders. Friends that are boys and friends that are girls.  Obviously there is a stigma to saying that you have a “boyfriend” or a “girlfriend”.

I just didn’t think it started when you were 5.

Apparently, one of her (boy) friends, friends that is a boy, was being teased by other boys because he plays with her.  And because of that he told her that he didn’t want to play with her anymore because they called her his girlfriend.

Now Poop Deck Community bare with me here.  I was thrilled to learn that I was a father.  And I was equally  thrilled to learn that I was the father of a daughter.  But since the day The Eldest was born, there is one thing I have been preparing myself for – boys.

Yes, I know girls can be mean.  And who knows, maybe boys will never be a problem?  But that doesn’t keep me from preparing myself.

Every time I workout watch infomercials of people working out, I imagine chiseling myself into the dad that no boy would mess with.  I imagine standing at the door breaking boards with my pinkie in a tank top, with a prison number tattooed on my neck (fake of course, but looking like a real tattoo) while I sip a latte (other pinkie up). But I digress.

Back to the situation.  I had to take a minute to take the whole situation in.  I knew The Eldest would have been saddened by the loss of a friend.  I also knew that the boy didn’t mean any harm.  He wasn’t saying anything was wrong with my daughter.  He was just trying to break up with her as a friend.

Because of what his “friends” were saying.

The father bear in me wanted to tattoo the prison numbers on my neck and talk to these boys.  However, sanity took over.

“Why can’t you play with her?  Because your friends are making fun of you?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, let me make this simple.  If they are making fun of you for having a friend then they aren’t good friends.  Secondly, and this is important –

My daughter is NOT your girlfriend.”

“Uh huh.”

“Now go play.”

Five minutes later the two of them were laughing a playing.  And they probably wouldn’t remember the conversation if asked about it now.  But it now lingers in my head.  My first run in as an overprotective father.

I think I passed with flying colors.

For now…Captain Out.

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Sunday Morning Breakfast

Headed to “The Donut Store” with The Eldest. What is your vote for the greatest Sunday morning breakfast? Have a great morning…and don’t forget to fuel up with Milk:)
Captain out…

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A Letter

So I would really like to compose a letter expressing my displeasure with the state of one of our local parks. But before I do, I am wondering if your local parks are in a disarray as well? Is this common and I am merely overreacting?
We constantly find trash – including, but not limited to: paper, food products, condoms (unwrapped, not checking if they are used…gross), pop bottles, beer bottles, random debris, diapers, and much more. Please share this post and give me some feedback. Thanks…
Captain out

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(No dolls were harmed in the writing of this post. And no we did not plant the doll there. She was there along with a lot of other trash.)
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SHAVING THE YEARS AWAY

I participated in a campaign on behalf of Dad Central Consulting for AVEENO. I received product samples and a promotional item as a thank you for participating.

The Captain has a love/hate relationship with shaving. There is nothing more refreshing than a clean shave. For several years now, The Captain has begun to gray, so shaving is also a great way for me to look younger. And it is cheaper than Botox.
The problem is that I have used a number of razors and shaving products and can’t seem to find a reliable go to product. I have a couple that I like, but I am always on the look out for what is new.
I shave/trim my goatee area about every two days. My head usually gets shaved about every two weeks. I would shave more often, but my skin is often pretty irritated and so I have to give it some time. Also, if I shave too often I can’t play the authentic role of a pirate with my kids.
The good people at AVEENO sent me a few products to try out. I received a shaving gel, face wash, and after shave lotion. AVEENO has a solid 60 year track record supported by dermatologists – so I knew they would be good.
I did love the shaving gel. It was pretty smooth on my neck and worked pretty well when I shaved my head. My favorite was the face wash though because it seemed to soothe and refresh my face. The after shave was also nice, but the face wash and shaving gel were the winners in my book.
My skin looks and feels healthier and I had less irritation after shaving than I have had in a long time. The other upside of the shaving gel and face wash is that neither were watery. The watery stuff usually leads to more nicks and cuts when I shave, or, in the case of the face wash, a semi clean/oily face.
The AVEENO Men’s Collection features the ACTIVE NATURALS® Oat ingredient which works to cleanse, moisturize and soothe men’s sensitive skin. And The Captain is here to tell you it works.
Now that I have the AVEENO Men’s Collection, I am going to give straight razor shaving a try. I can’t be a true pirate until I am using a real blade, right?
Okay. Time to shave. For now…Captain out!
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How Monsters Began

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Captain’s Log. Daddy Chronicles. Diaper Date 2113. Over the weekend we took both of the kiddos to see Monsters University. As with most things involving kids – this was still an operation.
The Eldest was still riding high off her dance recital performance the previous night. Her listening ears were unmatched. She couldn’t wait to go see the movie. In fact, we had to intervene as it seemed see was organizing her own party to go see the movie. Last count she had invited the entire street and some random person at the grocery store. We had to sadly inform her that daddy did not drive a clown car.
The smartest thing we did was a suggestion from Mrs. Captain. We drove separately.
By virtue of our experience watching the Hunger Games (the movie stopped 3/4 of the way through, ruining one of the two movie dates Mrs. Captain and I have had since the boy was born) we only had to buy one ticket to see MU. So, we paid a small mortgage payment for popcorn and snacks and waited for the movie to begin.
I don’t want to give too much about the movie away, but our little monsters enjoyed it and the adults laughed several times as well. It is definitely worth seeing!
The littlest of monsters did not make it through the entire movie. He was escorted out of the theater (by Mrs. Captain) when he hopped down and started feeling the backs of people’s heads and trying to eat their popcorn. I tried to explain that he was a phrenologist (look it up), but that didn’t seem to make things better. At any rate, he was asleep before they left the parking lot. Rule number one of parenting – divide and conquer.
The movie was so good that The Eldest wanted me to go out and purchase the movie immediately. I had to explain that movies didn’t work out that way. It would have been a good time to explain movie piracy (bad), but I opted to save that lecture for later.
All in all, it was a good time and a good sequel or prequel. The fact that it chronologically took place before Monster’s Inc. has The Eldest calling the original #2 and the new one #1. Cute.
Whatever you want to call it, go see Monsters University right now. Good movie.
Time to shove off. For now…Captain out.
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I Need a Trick

This is a sponsored post and I have been compensated to write it. As with all posts in the Poop Deck, my hope is that you are entertained or informed about some aspect of parenthood. So, please do me a favor: If you chuckle at least once (nose snorts and eye rolls count), click on this link and check out the We now return to your regularly scheduled post…
Captain’s Log. Daddy Chronicles. Diaper Date 2109. So The Eldest has already been kicking around ideas for her birthday…which isn’t until September. I have heard about Barbie cakes, Beiber cakes (Lord help me), bounce houses, and Monkey Joes.
Apparently the six year party is the prep for the sweet sixteen party.
At any rate this got me thinking.
I need a trick. I need a skill that sets me up as the ultimate birthday party dad.
Juggling? My hands are too small. I can only juggle two objects at a time. The Fetus Fists of Fury are not designed for such entertainment.
Magic? I would want to tell everyone how I did the trick.
Animal Balloons? Tried that one at the Diaper Dweller’s party. Everything looked inappropriate. “Mommy, what is it?”
“Honey. It is a giant pink phallic flamingo. We are leaving.”
Hmmm.
I can snap apples in half – the FFofF are small but powerful, yet apples can get messy. Not a great idea. Besides who wants apples that have been crushed in someone’s hand?
The potential list of Ultimate Dad tricks was dwindling. Then I came up with a brilliant plan – ice sculptures with chainsaws.
Except, I don’t own a chainsaw. However, if I can find a Homelite chainsaw, I now know where to find. Besides, I will probably need replacement parts as I practice.
Just think of it, I could carve names, faces, characters, fish, whatever out of huge hunks of ice. The party goers will be enthralled with The Captain’s skill and artistic ability.
And if I get good enough then people will hire me to come and do family portraits, weddings, Bar Mitzvahs, and the like.
Except, where do you think you get the huge hunks of ice? That might be a deal breaker. My freezer isn’t that big.
I might need to rethink this one. And fast. I have less than three months to get ready.
For now…Captain out.

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Dad, The Pro Wrestler

Captain’s Log.  Daddy Chronicles.  Diaper Date 2105.

I always wanted to be a professional wrestler.  I grew up in the WWF (now WWE) era of Hulkamania.  The training, saying your prayers, and taking your steroids vitamins, brutha. We used to act out all of the moves.  My favorite was pretending to be the Hulkster and picking up one of my buddies (Big Joey) who was pretending to be Andre the Giant.  I didn’t actually slam him, but it was still pretty cool.  We had the stomps down and the fake punches.  I could even cut a live promo in the Hulkster’s voice (still can).

So I was thinking about all the unofficial ring training that I went through in my childhood. And that’s when it hit me.  I wasn’t training to be a professional wrestler.  I was training to be a dad.

Think about it.  In wrestling they call it “kayfabe” which is essentially the preservation of a character or story.  If you hurt your arm in the ring then your arm should be hurt when you go out for a burger later.  How many times have you kayfabed for your kids?  When they try to tickle you and you have to “sell” that it tickles when really they are scratching skin from your body.  Or when you are playing hide and go seek and you have to pretend that they aren’t hiding behind the couch – even though they made more noise than an elephant burrowing between the sofa and the wall.

One of my favorite wrestling scenarios is when there is outside interference.  This usually occurs when the face (the good guy) is distracted and a heel (a bad guy) comes in and interferes with the match.  Sometimes the heel comes in with a foreign object.  While kids don’t grab steel chairs, or jump off the top of a steel cage, they do occasionally hit you with random objects or catapult off of the top of the couch/table/family pet.  If you have more than one kid, they delight in double/triple/whole team teaming you.

Parenting is like wrestling.  You are telling a story.  At times you are competing.  At times you are joining forces.  And sometimes, yes, you are rolling around in your underwear (sneak attacks can come at all times).  At times you are simply entertaining.

Another term used a great deal in wrestling is “push”.  To receive a push is when the organization tries to make a wrestler big with the fans,  And I guess that is the main job of a parent:  We are constantly trying to push our kids so that they can get “over”.  If we do our job right they look great, but if we are only worried about how we look as parents then their progress can suffer.

Granted, there are some major differences between professional wrestling and fatherhood (or motherhood if you are a mom).  There are no pyrotechnics when I walk in the room (I’m still working on that one).  There is no theme music that blares when I wake up (also working on this one).  There is no championship belt (okay, I do have a fake championship belt that I wear on the weekends).  And unless you are at Walmart/Target/Disney, there is no sold out arena audience (which many times is a good thing).

Little did I know that those hours watching wrestling would give me a sneak peek into fatherhood.  Training, prayers, vitamins, and all.

For now…Captain out.

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