Joey fired us. Tomorrow marks two weeks since that was official. I love my son. I miss my son. Maybe this was all a mistake. I have no idea. Perhaps that’s the beginning of Faith. If so, faith is painful as Hell. And lonely. So fine, and sunny, and smiling, and empty. It’s said that God breaks us, so he might rebuild us. I’m a thousand pieces flying in close formation. ...
It’s been a stellar couple of days for Joey’s sense of humor. Representative samples. “Yo’ momma so fat, Arnold Schwarzenegger tells her to GET AWAY FROM DA CHOPPA!” * * * [Interior: The Combs Clan sits around the table] Whitney (to Harold): You know, when you lie, you get spots on your face. Harold: O RLY? Tell me something and I’ll lie in response. Whitney: Yeah, say ‘I like titty-twisters.’ Harold: I…like…titty-twisters. ...
Me: “Hey Joey, what would you like to do today?” He: “Let’s go iceskating.” […silence…] She: “Dad doesn’t do iceskating.” Me: “I can do it if I have to.” * * * Ah famous last words. I’ve been working alot lately. Let me rephrase: I’ve been working roughly 9:30->8pm M-T-R-F. I haven’t been working late Wednesdays because of Church, and not Fridays because something usually comes-up. I haven’t been able to spend much time with my son, and we’re both missing it. ...
I resolved to write down a few things to leave for my kids, some things I wished I’d heard from my parents. This is the first of those. My Darling Joey, Maria, and Grace, I love each of you. As each one of you came into my life, you taught me more and more about love, and about myself. Joey, you taught me how to care so much it hurt, how to feel. Maria, you taught me how something was more valuable than momentary happiness. Grace_,_ you taught me the simple joy of fatherhood, how each child is a gift from God, and how a laugh from your beloved child is greater than any physical gift in the world. ...
Each year I get to watch my boy appear and disappear in a 24 hour period. I hate that. It’s amazing how rewarding it can be to put something together with your kids. This year, I got to put together a playschool dollhouse, a K’Nex Twisted Coaster, and an er…um….something to do with mechanized hamsters that need exercise. A toy is evil if and only if it requires batteries. I find Michael Bay’s Transformer’s movie mesmerizing in that “If its on, I have to watch it” way I usually reserve for Airplane!, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and The Ten Commandents. Bad news is worse at Christmas somehow. It’s like you’re in the foxhole, getting shelled, and the guy next to you farts. Nothing to do but smell it. The Mattress sales industry should be regulated tighter than casinos. Casinos at least offer comps. If you’re on the hook to feed your buddy’s dog while he’s on vacation, wear comfortable footwear. Said dog may be off her chain and feeling athletic. Bulleted lists get tiring after 4 bullets. I finished Meghan McCain’s Dirty Sexy Politics a few days ago, and I found it both naive and insightful. Naive in that the book’s the equivalent of the hot date that goes nowhere: Meghan tells all, but has frightfully little to tell of consequence, aside from her night in Nashville with John Rich and how she totally screwed-up that infamous GQ interview. ...
No, not the pitter-patter of little feet. Bought Joey and myself a pair of these: Yep, Yamaha YRN-22B Baroque-fingering recorders. Perfect instrument to teach some musical basics. I still have my tenor sax and a frankenstein clarinet from my days in the Breathitt County High School Band of Pride, but neither is suited to a 6-year-old. Music was a big part my life, and now I’d like to at least introduce that to Joey and the rest of our children. If he likes it, great. If he doesn’t, that’s fine too, but at least it will broaden his horizons a bit. ...
Hey, if Barbara Bush’s dog can have a book, I think I could collect enough Joey quotes to fill a paperback, at least. Joey: You guys don’t have to buy me anything for Christmas… Me (to self): Awww…. Joey: …As long as you buy me EVERYTHING. * * * All quotes copyright JoeyCo, Inc. All rights reserved. :-)
Joey got to be the star (or super-star, or all-star, or something), so Whitney and I helped him create this neat poster. (Okay…I helped joey paste-up everything onto the poster-board…)
Yeah, I can just see pulling-out THIS picture whenever joey brings home a gal, gets married, etc.
Joey passes into an icing-induced sugar coma. * * * After the non-practice Soccer practice (lightning, thunder, oh my!), we were able to make it to David’s surprise party, which was awesome for me in many ways: - Got to introduce Whitney + Joey to most of my ‘work family’ - Took whitney to a GOOD thai restaurant, for a change. - It counted as date night. (j/k, dear!)
Joey’s new wheedling technique is “I NEVER get to ______” “I never get to watch a movie anymore” “I never get to go outside!” “Why won’t you play with me…you never play with me anymore!” or the corollary, “My Daddy plays with me all the time.” * * * Scene: Interior, our house. Harold sits int the kitchen eating breakfast, Joey’s wrapped up in his blanket on the living room floor in the Anne Geddes position: ...
There’s little in life that compares to coming out of the shower to find you wife, clippers in hand, having utterly destroyed one side of her son’s head, and realizing that she must ’even it up'. It’s a simple story really: Best of intentions (“Just a trim around his ears”), worst of possible outcomes (at this she says, “well, at least he’s not bald”…never blog aloud…:-) ). Kid’s a little short to starboard now. Port is well tapered, but that’s because I seized the WWMD (Wahl weapon of mass destruction) before she could attack. ...