An Attempt at Mother's Day

My family never went out of our way to recognize these holidays, or any holiday for that matter. It was a combination of being poor and our culture. It's not like we didn't appreciate our parents - we just didn't feel the need to exemplify it on a particular day. We would have our family dinner at some restaurant but for the most part it was just like any other day.

Fast forward to now and the past four years that the Wifey has actually been a mother and I still haven't learned the significance of the day. Actually, I know full well the significance of the day, I just don't know how to express it. Maybe I over think the actual execution - I could go the cheesy route and make a necklace out of elbow macaroni. Or do a finger painting of the family. That would let the Baby get involved and she would understand the fun that is Mother's Day. I thought about getting some supplies together and making paper dolls and writing a reason why we love her on each one. Not bad ideas. But then I worry that my masterful creations would find itself on the fridge and covered with the countless number of Save the Dates and announcements and just get lost in the mix.

I could just splurge and get her something good. Maybe a spa day with her best friend. She loves spa days, she loves her best friend, and she gets to get away from me. But then I have this gut feeling that she would feel guilty for spending time away from her family on Mother's Day while she is getting pampered and relaxing. And then she would be mad at how much it all cost for a spa day.

Or maybe the fact that I am not good at recognizing Mother's Day is the fact that it's the realization that I am celebrating a MOM. It's the confirmation that we are actually growing up and she's no longer the Wifey, she's no longer my hot girlfriend, but an actual mom. And I have to celebrate her mom-lyness with mom things. It's the realization that short jean skirts and boots are being replaced with mom jeans and those Skecher shape up polio shoes.

It's the understanding that I have to share my best friend with someone else. It's the sinking feeling that the twenty year olds who would stay out way too late and play in the rain and roll down grassy hills just aren't the same anymore. Sure, I noticed it when getting out of bed becomes a task and my bones creak just as much as the springs in my mattress.

Or maybe it's because I miss my own mom. And I feel guilty because I never celebrated her for everything she did for our family. Seldom a thank you for all the times she did her motherly duties without a single complaint. Like the time she made 300 croissants the morning of a third grade project about Canada that I didn't tell her about until the night before. Or the very first day I ever had a license and I thought it would be cool to do a 3 point turn for no damn reason whatsoever and ended up flooring it in reverse and destroyed some old lady's tree as she was working on her garden. As I told my mom what had just happened, I thought to myself, I am the first person ever to get and lose their license on the same day. My mom gave me the "disapproving, I am burning your soul with my eyes" look, she walked over to the woman's house and faked her bad English so much, the old lady just agreed I would only have to replant the tree.

But I've finally come to the understanding that I am not celebrating the Wifey's Mother Day in place of my mom's but I should be celebrating Mother's Day for the Baby and the family. The Baby needs to understand that there's a day every year where you can truly thank your mom without ever thanking her. The Baby needs to learn the excitement of secretly creating crappy macaroni art all in preparation for Mother's Day. Because even though I still have a hard time coming to terms that my hot girlfriend is still an actual mother, she will always be the best mother to our family, Skecher shoes or not.

Rolling Something Illegal

Anytime I hear the word "free", you have my undivided attention. I caught wind of a launch party for the newest food truck in the Dallas area and made sure I brought my A-game in sweet talking my way into this event. Luckily I didn't have to do much sweet talking as I was the Wifey's guest. I guess marriage has it's positives.


This event was going to be held at the Community Beer Company Brewery across from the home of the Dallas Mavericks and Dallas Stars and random circuses. And arguably the most talented musical duo, The O's. They are just two dudes who play every instrument, at the same freaking time.

But obviously the highlight of this launch party was for the Texas Burrito Company, the latest invention from the Two Trucks LLC, same brains behind The Butcher's Son , Gandolfo's and What's Da Scoop. I am guessing this new truck makes them Four Trucks LLC?

Surprising Dallas lacks a good Mexican food truck. There's a Greek truck, slider truck, Indian food truck, hot dog truck, and even a sushi truck but not really a Mexican truck. I'm not a big fan of kitschy slogans (don't get me started at the incredible influx of "what the pho" crap for vietnamese places) but Texas Burrito Company's slogan is "Anything rolled this good should be illegal." Luckily for them, the slogan holds up.

I remember when I had to go to Ogden, Utah for work, I was introduced to something that was better than Chipotle and Freebirds. A burrito place called Costa Vida. I know, I should turn in my Texan card, but I've never imagined burying a perfectly good burrito in delicious sauce. But if it's any consolation, Costa Vida has a location in Fort Worth and I think Grapevine.

After grabbing a Community Public Ale, recently victorious at the GABF (Great American Beer Festival or Good Ass Beer Festival), I decided on the Rio Grande, a flour burrito filled with sweet pork barbacoa, cheese, rice, and beans, and made wet, which is their sexual innuendo for bathing the burrito in a green chile sauce. The barbacoa was ridiculously delicious. I would liken it to more of a carnita but it was definitely good.

The Wifey decided on a pick two taco plate and ended up getting the fire grill steak and chicken. The steak sadly lacked flavor. You could tell it had seasoning on it but the meat itself was just bland. The chicken was a lot better and the fact it had goat cheese and bacon made it even more satisfying.

We also got hooked up with some grilled corn. I would just go to this truck solely for the grilled corn. A whole corn grilled and covered in an avocado lime crema and a Sriracha drizzle. I would be smitten if they put some in my burrito.

Best part of this meal? The O's serenaded us with music and their standup comedy. If you don't want to eat your burrito with pinkies out with a knife and fork, then you can opt to not make your burrito wet. But I will highly suggest against it.

Choco Tacos and Tears

Pillow is roughly around it's 26th week and based on the Wifey's bitching, it is currently kicking itself into her lungs. I haven't had a chance to actually feel Pillow kick but I do make sure I poke the crap out of Pillow's home hoping to stir up some movement. It just seems as though Pillow decides to play shy when I get near.

The Wifey has been stashing a box of Choco-Tacos in the back of the freezer and the other night the Baby came across this hidden treasure.

The Baby has always had free reign in the pantry and the fridge and although some parents would freak out over this autonomy, the Baby has done a good job of making healthy choices. She usually opts for fruit or carrots as her preferred snacks. She will sometimes spot the bag of frozen edamame and request that as a snack but she refers to as green beans. Pretty much anything that's small and green is a green bean. Except peas. Those are just peas.

But the box of Choco-Tacos caught her eye as she was rummaging the freezer - the chocolate, waffle shell definitely called out to her. Since she knows better not to eat anything new or delicious without running it by us first, she quietly grabbed my hand and pointed at the majestical glow beaming from this Choco-Taco box.

Sadly, there was only one left. I told the Baby she couldn't have it; she would need to ask her mom first. The Baby started to whine and pout so I finally said, "fine, you can have it. But you have to tell mommy you ate the last one."

Sudden fear colored her face and she frantically said no and refused the scrumptious treat. The Baby knows not to eat a pregnant woman's last one of anything. She decided that a bowl of cold carrots would hold her over until her mother came home.

Quell the Vomit Monster

As we gear up for the arrival of Pillow, there are a few items that never left our possession. The Baby accumulated an obscene amount of unwanted junk from family and friends (we appreciate the thoughtful gestures!) - but it ends up being overwhelming. Compound that with the fact that the Wifey is a crazy pack-rat (she vehemently denies it), our house is essentially a shoo-in for the next episode of Hoarders. A person can stuff only so many clothes and toys into a ForceFlex garbage bag before the trash bag says "F this shit" and rips itself open. Probably the exact same feeling the buttons on my shirt feel after a trip to the local buffet.

But there are baby things you end up using on a daily basis. Some things I will ask myself why the hell I threw it in the trash in the first place. Here is my life of the four best baby things you'll continue to use.

1. Baby wipes.

Basically they are wet naps except you don't have to rip it open with your teeth like a condom package. The whole reason you're a parent in the first place is because you had trouble opening the condom. Baby wipes are decently priced for the amount you get in a package; the packaging is resealable so you'll always have that cool, moist tissue. They are great if you need to cool down, somehow smash ice cream all over your face, or you need a quick "shower" and the can of FeBreze is nowhere to be found. I usually have a package somewhere in the car - you never know when someone is going to spill. I prefer a baby wipe over the hand sanitizers just because A) it's super creepy when someone pulls it out and squeezes it into their palm and then rubs it like they are about to go into surgery and B) they dry out my hands. Plus you don't rub sanitizer all over your face just because you couldn't resist the all you can eat Riblets at Applebee's.

2. Baby blanket

You know you have a closet full of them. Just stacks on stacks of blankets of quilts. Some with mysterious stains others still covered in your mother in law's perfume. But either way, you still have them and you will still use them. They are big enough to shut the Wifey up when she complains the car's heater isn't getting hot fast enough. But they are small enough it doesn't feel like you're dragging around the comforter of your bed. They are handy when you need a quick makeshift blanket or if you need a privacy screen so your daughter can pee on the side of the road because she couldn't hold it long enough and there was no way in hell you were going to use Wal-Mart's bathroom.

3. Snacks

This is a tough one because a lot of the snacks that the Baby eats are snacks that I eat. Fruit snacks and goldfish seem to be the most common ones. But snacks are really beneficial when you are toting around a gallon Zip-loc bag of stale, flavorless Cheerios. There will be times when the Wifey (or yourself) happen to drink two too many bottles of crappy house wine when you're out and the drive thru line to Whataburger happens to be 7 cars long - you're going to need something bland to quell the Vomit Monster.

4. Diaper bag

I know, it's a bitch to carry around in the first place. And it's even worse for guys because all the new diaper bags look like big ass purses. It's bad enough you have to hold your wife's purse but now you have to hold your wife's purse AND your daughter's bigger ass purse. But that thing is useful. A diaper bag is the Swiss Army Knife of random ass shit. There are so many times that I need somewhere to put my keys, wallet, and phone because I wear athletic shorts in public because I DON'T GIVE AN F. I need some baby wipes because my face is dirty and I'm too classy to spit wash my own face? It's in the diaper bag. My kid wanted to jump in the water fountain at the mall and now she's naked in the backseat? Cover her up with that blanket that you somehow managed to shove in the diaper bag. And the greatest thing about diaper bags are the random goodies you will find at the bottom. I've found goldfish crackers to M&Ms and even that Redbox DVD of Madagascar 3 that your wife swore she returned.

Is it a boy? Is it a girl?

I officially celebrated my 30th birthday by using a gift card to Chilis with my family. Service was mediocre and so was the food but I spent it with my family. The Baby is just getting more wild in public and it's a chore to take her anywhere but I will attribute that to her being stuck in the house after daycare as I had to work.

The Baby reminds me of our dog Shrek. As soon as he is anywhere not at home, he freaks out and goes into super hyper mode. It was like the Baby chugged one of those yard long Pixi Stix. Insane.

The Diva 

A couple of weeks ago the Wifey and I went to the doctor to get our first sonogram of an actual baby in her stomach. When we to the sonogram with the Baby a few years ago, we let them know we didn't want to know the sex. He tried his best to avoid the crotcch but the Wifey and I both caught a glimpse of a "hotdog bun" which is the universal indicator of a vagina. If it was a boy, it would have been a turtle. So although we officially didn't know the Baby was a girl, we knew deep down.

This time we made sure to reiterate that, despite the angst expressed by family and friends, we ARE STILL NOT going to find out the sex of Pillow. I even went the extra step of focusing on my game of Flappy Birds when he was in the area. And this time the Wifey and I feel a lot more confident that we don't know if we are having a boy or a girl.

But the sonogram we received seems to be a clear indicator that we're having a boy. There is no doubting it. Take a look for yourself.

LOOK AT THAT. My boy is already a man. He's a mushroom headed monster. That thing is about half his body size. Impressive. But also makes me want to take a paternity test. He definitely didn't get that gift from me.

For those who are unfamiliar with sonograms - that's actually Pillow's leg...or maybe a third leg, amirite?

Taking the Time to Listen

The Baby is going to be four years old next month. Just this past week she upgraded from her long baby hair and got a more mature haircut, complete with sideswept bangs. In fact, as soon as she got her haircut, she's been sleeping in her own bed. As a family we are already spending less and less time together. And especially with technology, we all seem to be consumed on what's on the screen rather than the person in front of us.

I hardly ever really take the time to listen to what the Baby is talking about. It's usually just random, non-nonsensical blabber. I do a better job of understanding her than the Wifey but I will attribute that to my years of listening to my dad's broken English.

But today I sat down and just listened to her. Listened to her words, listened to her hand movements, and her body language. For a little kid, she has a lot to communicate. I asked her why she doesn't watch Dora the Explorer anymore. I asked her why she prefers Doc McStuffins or some show about a handyman. Her response was straight forward and made perfect sense.

"I don't like to watch it anymore because it has bad guys in it. They are mean."

Simple but very clear thought process.

She then explained the purpose of lotion.

"Your skin gets dry and you put lotion on it."

I am so caught up in thinking that she hasn't grown up that I fail to appreciate how intelligent she has become. I can explain things and she will pretty much understand what's going on. Except for when we went to Target to get a Valentine's stuff for her day care friends. Apparently the Baby wanted some just for her self. Such a spoiled brat.

Surviving the Baby Store

The trip to the Big Box Mega Baby Store is a visit I would normally dread. Screaming babies, pregnant women with constant bitchy resting face, and the long check out lines. It's like Wal-Mart except the people not wearing pants are in the infant carriers. The trip to the store is never off to a good start if I have to mean mug the asshole that parks in the expectant mothers' spot. I worked hard to impregnate the Wifey to get that prime spot.

Total Wine = Step 1 in the baby making process

The Wifey knows it's not my most favorite store and she definitely knows not to get pregnant during the football season or she would be making these visits alone. But she's considerate; she doesn't demand my opinion - she knows it's the same answer of "whichever you like the best." She makes sure she gets everything she needs because wasting away in the checkout line only for her to forget something on the other side of the store is a huge tease.

But luckily I've learned make the most of the visit and entertain myself. So here are the 5 Rules to Maintain Your Sanity in the Big Box Mega Baby Store:

1) Be charged.

Make sure your phone is charged. Sorry, let me be more specific: make sure your smart/internet-capable phone is charged. You can't survive a visit if you're limited to Snake 2. I would estimate 80% battery should be sufficient but it really depends on the visit. If you're registering for baby stuff, you should be fine. You'd be surprised how fast time flies when you're scanning random shit. But if you're returning everything that you registered for because you thought there is no way on Earth someone would buy the diaper disposal system that seals diapers shut 360 degrees in order to lock in odors - you thought wrong. Someone will buy it and you will be waiting in line to return it. In that scenario you will need a fully charged phone and maybe an extended battery.

2) Limit your attention span.

A fully charged phone will do you no good if you do not have internet or stuff to do on the phone. There is a really good chance that in the vastness of one these mega stores, there will be an internet dead spot from as soon as you walk in all the way to dumpsters in the alley behind the store. Don't try and force your phone to find that one bar of service, you will end up draining your battery further. But if you are one of the lucky few who can get service, keep your internet surfing short and sweet. You want to be able to read a quick story or maybe some tweets but don't try and watch a movie. Definitely don't even try to sneak your Kindle in and try and read a book. You will need something you can quickly stop so you can answer questions like, "how will this look in the yet to be designed nursery?" The answer: it's going to look great because you've shoved that Pinterest picture in my face a 1000 times. The reality: it's going to look like crap because, well  because it's Pinterest. You can try watching Vine videos but acoustics are awful in these big buildings and you'll have your phone to your ear as if your phone is telling you a secret. Stick to material that is geared for short attention spans just to make your partner you think you don't mind shopping.

3) Hulk Smash.

You have no bars of service. Don't fret. Most of the games available for your phone are designed for your one handed play so you can continue to push the shopping cart and still play. Candy Crush seems to be popular but I don't play it so I wouldn't know. If you are lucky and happen to have downloaded Flappy Birds before it was pulled, be careful. If your partner happens to ask you for your opinion right when you're going to beat your high score of 7, you're going to come off as an ass when you ignore life. But what do you do when you experience Flappy Bird rage? You can't throw your phone and you definitely can't start cussing - this is still a baby store. You punch stuff. I am being serious. Baby car seat displays are perfect punching. Most of the car seats have side impact things that are great for a right hook and it's always fun to see how well these car seats hold up. And it's always fun to think that your punches are flying at the same force and velocity of a two ton steel car slamming into your car because you know, we're men and we Hulk smash. I usually go down to the row of car seats and punch all the side impact head cushions. You definitely don't want to punch the main cavity of the seat where the kid actually sits. That's just hard plastic and it hurts and dumb. Punch the head cushions. It takes practice because if you miss, it's going to hurt.

4) Demo everything.

A good baby store will let you demo everything. So why not make it fun? I usually go to the baby swings and turn all them on at one time. And then I turn up the speed and music so the aisle is filled with crappy baby music. If you are up for the challenge, try getting all the baby swings to swing in unison. Some of the swings have different swing timing so you have to time it just right. I think I've gotten 4 swings in unison. I probably could have gotten more but I had to give my opinion on which breast pump looks better designed to suck the most milk. You can also go to all the baby toys and press the demo buttons just to be even more annoying. I like the toys that sing. I get all the toys to sing at the same time so it's like I am conducting my own choir. I'd probably could spend an entire day doing this if I had chance.

5) Take a break.

No internet? No more battery life? Hand hurts from punching stuff? Don't worry, the best thing about the baby store is the row of rocking chairs that were made for resting. It might be a little rude to sit in one of these chairs the whole time so I usually make this a last resort. I will also pick the cheapest chair. You don't need to be comfortable - you just need to get off your feet. But if the store isn't busy, by all means, treat yo self and sit in the mega chair. You won't regret it. And if your partner asks why you're sitting down, go with this sure-fire gem: "I am just imagining rocking our beautiful child to sleep so you can get your rest." Boom. Gold. But be careful, if the Wifey ever catches you passed out in the rocking chair with your newborn hanging on for dear life, she will never, ever let it go.

And if everyone is wondering, there is a diaper disposal system that seals your dirty diapers shut like those food vacs.