Not Another New Years Resolution

I haven’t given New Years a thought, let alone a resolution. Between the whirlwind of destruction my toddlers cause and preparation for a newborn most days I am unsure of the month let alone the day. I guess a good resolution would be to start paying attention to the dates more, so I don’t forget how much closer to wrinkles and grays I am.

Man what a cop out huh? Fine! I’ll give it a go. I am resolute not to fake interest in a gym membership, pretend I won’t eat that burger and I certainly won’t post a new year new me status. No, none of the clichés! If I’m gonna pledge to do something for the new year it will be some sort of bucket list type scenario. I need something that will pump me up. I need something that will pump those around me up!

This New Years I guess it’s time. Time to pull out the old hairbrush. The one I hide in the shower. This New Years, 2015, the year Punk Rock Papa goes Punk Rock Rappa.

Yes! It’s time to dust off the hairbrush I hide conveniently in the linen closet near the bathroom. The one that accompanies me into the shower.

I’m ready to join the echelons of beat murderers and tongue twisters. 2015 will be the year of the dad rap. I’ll call my style parent flow. Ahh I can see it now! Kids in the background bobbing heads in unison. Move aside Barney, you’ve been dethroned! I’m reclaiming my spot at the top of the cool charts, right up there with Old McDonald’s Farm and that woman always coming round the mountain.

An abridged version of this resolution was featured over at DQM. You should check out some of the other bloggers who participated. Hilarity may ensue.

What’s your New Years resolution? What’s the over under on you sticking with it?



Cheerleader Daddy

I remember when my boys were in belly time phase. Remember that phase? You lay them on their belly and watch as that gigantic head of theirs frantically moves around. Being at home with them during that day we always had our set time right after naps for belly time. I don’t know what other people do during this time, maybe they coo to the child or update social media or take photos. Not this guy.

First step in belly time was getting the right music going. I may or may not have a playlist exclusively of movie montage songs. It might include ” Highway to the Danger Zone” and ” Eye Of The Tiger”. Ok, I do! I do have that playlist and it’s AWESOME! That was always started up before belly time and has been played many times since for other developmental exercise.

Next step to Punk Rock Papa’s Baby Gym was to grab a headband. No, not for the kids. I needed a headband. During belly time I turned into a cross between drill sergeant and Richard Simmons. I would slide in from everywhere.
“Roll! Roll! Roll! Don’t quit, you got this!”

“Work it, work it! Flail them arms like you just don’t care!”

The kids, admittedly, were at first confused by my antics. Why does the feeder of bottles and majestic changer of diapers keep acting like a loon after nap time? After time though, they got in the groove. “Danger Zone” would come on to gigantic smiles. It was so much fun for all of us. They looked like those dog bobbleheads. I laughed, they laughed, we bonded.

Oh man, then they started rolling! Whenever one managed to roll themselves to their backs I would go nuts for them! Touchdown celebrations, dancing with the dogs and of course cuddles! I would go wild. My craziness was met with a chorus of giggles. The kids would be reset only to again roll. Their eyes would look at daddy and you could see the spark of pride and excitement flickering strongly.

The crazy antics haven’t toned down either. I still become the most ridiculous person when it comes to milestones. I love the name Punk Rock Papa, but Cheerleader Daddy would have been equally appropriate. I’ll always be over the top, eventually it will be too much when I show up to their sports events with my own stereo and copy of the playlist. I love cheering my kids on. I love the glow that takes their face when they succeed at something. I love the determination that takes over their faces when they falter. I love being their biggest cheerleader.

For those interested, here is the playlist;
1) Kenny Loggins- “Danger Zone”
2) Survivor- “Eye Of the Tiger”
3) Joe Esposito- ” You’re The Best ”
4) Kansas- “Carry on my Wayward Son”
5)Whitesnake- “Here I Go Again”



The Metallic Box

For as long as I can remember I’ve always felt like an orphan on Christmas. Always at events awkwardly standing in a corner as everyone exchanged gift after gift, until someone remembered I was there and slid me some pity five dollar present they bought the day before when they remembered tag along would be there. I’m not complaining, my appreciation of the holiday has grown enormously because of that feeling. I didn’t need the Grinch to rob me of Christmas for me to find a greater understanding of what holidays are for. Holidays aren’t necessarily hard for me, I’ve built my own traditions and my own family to uphold them with.

At the age of eight I was sent to visit my brother for a summer. He had moved from California to Connecticut to live his new life with his new family. My mother sent me for the summer. After the summer was over I never went home. That was fifteen years ago. To say his new wife wasn’t fond of me might sound harsh or unjust. I was thrust into her life, we had never really known each other and here I was, wedding present, ending the honeymoon phase. From then on we spent our holidays primarily with my sister in law’s family. They were nice people, but they were not my family. I never found that feeling of acceptance or inclusion. I learned to push my way to the back of the gatherings during gift giving, it was less awkward for everyone that way.

This isn’t a woe is me story. I don’t care much to think about the past, let alone mope about it. If you’ve made it this far and want to reach out to me and say “poor guy”, don’t waste your time. Without these experiences I wouldn’t be me. I am actually rather fond of the person I have become and I’ve moved beyond fighting with my past. I never won battles with demons so I don’t fight them anymore.

It’s nice to have things. It’s nice to receive things. That’s not what life is about though.

One of my favorite items and one of the only things I have from my childhood is a metallic box given to me by a family member of, ironically, my sister in law. I doubt the person even remembers giving it to me but over the years that box has held everything in it; Pokemon cards, pencils, secrets, drugs, pain, sharpies, tools, thoughts, dreams. For fifteen years that little box has withstood. It has held more of me inside it than I would ever confide in another person.

A metallic box. Probably worth about five dollars. Most certainly an afterthought present. There’s no thoughtful process to giving a child a metal box with pencils, this wasn’t a thoughtful gift. I love that box. Even now, I’ve dug it out of a drawer and I’m fondly feeling its dents from the times I’ve trampled or squeezed it or thrown it in anger because of its contents. I sit here looking at the wear and tear, the rust, the fact that all these years of abuse, fuck ups, and neglect have yet to destroy the box. It still opens fine, closes great, keeps that piece of me secure inside. It still functions and so do I.

The box, adorned with art quite like myself.

It will always hold that piece of me just in case, but I’m no longer a boy and his metallic box. I have a beautiful wife to lean on. I can take that pain from the box and she will help with the burdens. The dreams have been removed from the box, I share those with friends who support me and keep those dreams alive. My thoughts have moved from that little box to here, a bigger box I share with the world, unashamed and unafraid.

The holidays aren’t measured in material gains. I’m sure many will say “yeah I know that” after reading this. But do you? I love my new headphones my best friend bought me for Christmas. They costed him over a hundred dollars and yes, I’ve opened most my Christmas presents already. Christmas in my house won’t be opening presents. It will be the time where Diana, Killian, Nicolas, our soon to come Ezra, my best friend James and I gather round to embrace having each other. We will eat, drink and catch up. Time won’t be wasted looking at shiny new things when we spend all year working and constantly spending. It will be spent being together, it will be spent in merriment of the gift of having a family. It will be spent not feeling like we are alone in this world.




Friday Thinkerings; Christmas Edition

These are the random thoughts that pop into my head from time to time and are too small to blog and too silly to status. These are my thinkerings.

– I wonder if the elves get Santacare.

– We shouldn’t teach our children to sit in strange old men’s laps.

– If I was Rudolph I would have said screw those other reindeer.

– With all the Coca-Cola polar bears drink it’s surprising we don’t have a polar bears diabetes epidemic*

*google polar bears diabetes statistics later

– Do you think Mrs. Claus ever gets jealous of some presents Santa gives to women. He gave my wife a $100 gift card to Victoria Secret last year.

– I have always wanted to ride a narwhal, they are the real unicorns.

– An old man watches you all year then breaks into your house to bestow gifts you want, but he isn’t a stalker?

– Why’s Santa got to call everyone a Ho?

– Footloose is to penguins as Happy Feet is to humans.

– Candy Canes are delicious and do not deserve to be looked down on as seasonal candy.

– Candy Corn is a seasonal candy because it takes you a whole year to get that God awful taste out of your mouth.

– Elf on The Shelf is cute in a creepy dolls are alive way I guess.

– Instead of Elf on the Shelf I’m going to use the G.I. Joe on Christmas patrol

– G.I. Joe on Christmas Patrol was my second idea. My first was the single mom on the candy cane pole but I felt that might not be kid friendly enough.

– The song “Baby It’s Cold Outside” is both beautiful and an awful horrible song. Sounds like a recount of a night at Bill Cosby’s.

– The movie Elf made everyone think about trying chocolate syrup and spaghetti at least once, right?

– We tell our kids to be good or Santa won’t bring them presents then tell them not to lie. Oh, teach them irony at a young age.

– When I was a child I was addicted to my advent calendar. I would get all itchy and jumpy whenever my mom pulled it out for my single chocolate of the day.

– While the do good advent calendar Sister Serendip does is adorable and awesome, I would have a meltdown if I was her kid. Give me damn chocolate, don’t force me to do extra around the house!

– If Mrs. Clause ever kicks Santa to the curb you know the first list he is looking at is the naughty list.

– Man that Elf on the Shelf creeps me out and I’m an adult.

– Think Santa ever accidentally breaks into a Jewish home and is like ” That’s not a lamp, That’s a Menorah! No presents from me ho!”

– The more I think about the concept of Santa from a parents perspective the more I want to pepper spray the guy at the mall that’s job is to sit little kids on his lap.

What are your random Christmas thinkerings?



Product Review- Deluxe Twins Set: Boys Edition

When I unknowingly decided to impregnate my wife I didn’t realize it would result in me being blessed with the deluxe two for one tyrant special. The double trouble gift set has certainly been one of the more expensive things I’ve had. So I have decided to give anyone looking into the possibility of raising twins what I believe is an accurate list of pros and cons. This is my product review of the deluxe twins set: boys edition.

-Having twins means that, for most, you have already created most of your family! This is great because for the price of one pregnancy you end up with double the results. Going by my personal model of a three child family I am already two thirds of the way to my vasectomy! Having your kids in twos is a sure fire way to build that family of your dreams in little to no time!

-Twins are an immediate +20 family cuteness factor. Literally everyone wants to stop and gawk at the fact that two kids can be siblings and identical in age. If you opt for the twins that look alike package you might as well add +30 to the cuteness and +40 minutes to any trip to the store because you will constantly be stopped. Any gamers out there? This is the equivalent of grinding for that super rare sword to slay the dragon with, if the dragon was middle aged women at the supermarket and the sword was double edged adorableness, ya geek!

-Everyone seems to put parents of multiples on a pedestal. Thanks to Jon and Kate’s surge to fame parents of multiples are now seen as godsends of parents*. Why is this a perk? Everyone wants to give you a hand. Babysitting is pretty much free at this point because people want to help out the hard at work twin moms and dads. I will play the exhausted parent card constantly, maybe add a little bit of a staggered foot as if you haven’t recovered from two people holding onto your leg 24/7.

* I have never seen Jon and Kate plus however many kids they destined for years of therapy.

– Twincessories! Oh man, the strollers for twins are GIGANTIC! Makes for great bumper cars through the mall. As a person with personal space issues having a five foot stroller buffer zone in front of me is beautiful as I wade through the masses making their way to the food court. I like to use the front of my stroller to “accidentally” smash into the back of people’s legs. It’s quite fun and I can always blame the stroller. Take that lady yelling on your Bluetooth, fall down!

– As an added bonus, some find it appealing to dress their twins like thing one and thing two. While I never got caught up in that craze I can understand the enjoyment of further wowing passerby’s into a sort of twinstruck dumbfoundedness.

– Believe it or not, growing two people inside of a woman’s below is not fun for the pregnant nor the impregnator. As my pregnant partner got to have her uterus transformed into a cage fighting event I could slowly feel hatred building for me. “I can make twins with my penis!” Becomes less amusing the more you say it excitedly to strangers. Well, it did to my wife at least.

– Apparently you have to feed both child A and child B. This was news for me I didn’t realize we would be going through so much fifty dollar cans of powder. I have heard of a formula black market, so I guess if you go the shady way this isn’t as much of an issue. Just make sure your Similac is grade A and the dealer didn’t cut it with some generic crap. I would hate to break the kneecaps of some poor formula pusher who thought he could pull a fast one and stomp my product.

– Twins have a tendency to move in opposite directions. It’s almost as if they are like magnets with the same poles, constantly propelling each other into different rooms. This problem could be remedied with some leash product I assume but I haven’t found the best leash baby system yet so I’m stuck trying to turn into that stretch guy from fantastic four.

– Any sickness spreads like a rampant epidemic. I know it’s bad taste to joke about Ebola, so I’ll try my best to abstain. I’ll leave it at this; I call the CDC for quarantine tips during flu season.

In summation, I would give the deluxe twin set: boys edition a solid 8/10 score. While some days are harder than others I do enjoy most of the pros of twinsanity. Some of the cons I’m sure can be remedied if I took the time to get leash baby items, a good formula dealer and a proper quarantine area. All in all I would recommend the twin set to anyone looking to quick build their family and smash a gigantic limo stroller into people during the holidays.

Do you have children? What’s their product review?



The double edged sword, watching your kids grow up.

My sons are transitioning into the talking stage, which is super exciting, if you like them vocally disapproving of your parenting. Milestones have always been bittersweet for me. I am happy for my sons, they are growing up! I will always cheer their accomplishments on, big or small. I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that with each new exciting stage I don’t also get a little sad. My babies are not babies anymore. While the old cliché “they will always be my baby” is cute, they are no longer babies, but toddlers.

I’ve managed to be there for every milestone thus far. That’s a rare feat and one I’m particularly proud of! Working at night has provided me with the opportunity to be a committed father by day. From crawling to running, I’ve had my cheerleader Pom-Poms in hand and “Eye of The Tiger” blaring in the background, rooting on my tyrants as they discover a new ability.

The joy of discovery that spreads across a child’s face is, quite simply, unparalleled. They beam the biggest smiles and quickly seek you out for affirmation. Pride is shared by both parent and offspring, and it’s one of the purest, most beautiful moments that can ever occurs. The parent-child bond is tangible, an invisible umbilical cord never severed.

A part of me gets sad though. Each milestone is a move towards independence. Every day my kids are able to do something new for themselves. Their exploration of the world no longer requires me to carry them everywhere like Hodor from Game of Thrones. While my arms may have ached, I always felt a sense of purpose in the times of being a kid ferry. What’s next? What if tomorrow they wake up and I’m not the coolest person they know? I couldn’t bear it, it would be too much! I think there will always be a part of me that misses when I was their primary transport service from room to room.

When Nicolas began to crawl it was in classic Ridiculous Nicolas form. We were at a buddies house and I was in a side room getting a tattoo, if I remember correctly it was my Little Mermaid piece. Nicolas wanted to hang out and see what was going on, the kids always enjoy watching me get ink. After crying about not being in the room Nicolas decided he was going to get in that damn room and began to crawl. The whole time he inched toward the room with his head down, sobbing and pissed. You could just tell in his mind he was thinking ” YOU ARE GOING TO INCLUDE ME GOD DAMNIT!” Once he made it to the doorway he sat there, just glaring at us, with the reddest face in the history of children.

Killian began to crawl a week later, in less dramatic fashion. He has always had a way of just doing. He likes to watch someone else do something and then just do it. His outlook is Nike. From that point on, major operations of dad shuttle shut down. Once kids go mobile, in my experience, they don’t want to be carried much anymore. Now instead of walking my kids through rooms I chase them from room to room, exasperatingly trying to put a diaper on a naked bottom.

I no longer see my kids as babies, they are truly toddlers now. They run, are quite vocal and seem to have a good grasp on what they want. Every morning one retrieves the remote and brings it to me, the sign that it is time to start Barney marathon morning bonanza. Soon after a hand will take mine to guide me to a high chair, it’s breakfast time. While being bossed around by a toddler every morning is not what I planned, it shows I still have purpose! It will only be a matter of time before the cool thing is to cook breakfast for themselves (two right?).

IMG_6482.JPGThey already know how to drive, cooking will be next I assume.

I will always feel ambivalence for them growing up, I feel that’s a normal feeling for parents. To be honest I’m more worried about being replaced as their heroes than them actually growing up. They really seem to like that Barney fellow and I’m not above framing him for something horrible so he doesn’t pass me on their list of cool people. All I can do as a parent though is to encourage their accomplishments and endeavors; Pom-Poms and ” Eye of the Tiger” on hand and at the ready at all times.

How do your kids’ milestones make you feel? Do you have that slight sadness as they grow up? Is traumatizing your child and blaming barney unethical?




My wife spent the past day and a half in the hospital. She had been feeling under the weather for a few days before it all came to a head. There was nausea, dizziness, headaches and vomiting. I would be a liar if I said I wasn’t scared. The whole scene was a flashback to our first pregnancy.

When Diana was pregnant with the boys we had a fairly smooth pregnancy until the very end. Twins are expected to come early, usually around the 38 week mark. Throughout the pregnancy everything went well. The boys grew at a good pace in their womb for two. Diana was, well, exhausted but she was healthy. Other than normal first time parent jitters we were smooth sailing into a happy, healthy family.

On March 30th, 2013 Diana began to feel absolutely awful. She had a splitting headache, so bad it affected her vision. Apparently inside her body was a disaster. Her blood pressure had skyrocketed to dangerous levels, putting strain on everything. The doctors don’t tell you about HELLP syndrome, I assume because of the amount of fear it could instill and it’s slim likelihood, they don’t want you to worry about it.

HELLPS wreaks havoc on your body. Red blood cells rupture, your platelet count plummets and your liver enzymes begin going haywire. It usually occurs during the later stages of pregnancy and is life threatening. When Diana went into the hospital they told us she was fortunate for catching it early and coming in, that a few more hours would have been her life.

IMG_6371.PNGFrom American Pregnancy

I’ve already talked about losing her briefly during the emergency C-Section so I won’t recount every bit of our first experience. What I didn’t tell you was those weren’t feelings I had shared with Diana, ever. I have always felt a need to be a rock, being strong for the both of us, for the good of our family.

I still feel that need.

When Diana began to get sick a few days ago we dismissed it as the common cold. Our boys had just gotten over not feeling well and we just assumed they had transmitted their illness like the jerks little kids are. Then came the puking. She couldn’t hold down anything, even water. Off to the hospital we went.

At the hospital they set her up on IV’s, hooked her and the baby to heart monitors and began observation. Diana was having contractions due to being dehydrated. Now while this incident wasn’t exactly the same as our first go around, the same fear creeped back.

Here we go, again, before our projected due date. Here we go, again, with Diana feeling terrible.

Here we were, again.

Flashbacks began immediately. I saw her pulse dropping. I saw the color and life leaving her face. I began to get scared, no, I began to get terrified. They hooked Diana up to her forty different things and i braced myself for another nightmare delivery.

The doctors probably think I’m some sort of sociopath. In situations like this I get super calm. I will let my insides rage, but I will not betray my emotions by showing them. They stay hidden, for I am the rock, I am strong for my family.

I didn’t sleep hardly at all the night before last. My bed felt unbearably empty. I continuously checked my phone. Was the ringer on high? Had I zoned out and missed a call? I should probably be upfront. I can’t stay in hospitals. I get uneasy. Diana was on a sleeping pill and we live five minutes from the hospital so I was at home, taking care of the dog.

I gave up on sleep around 2:30 in the morning and began doing odds and ends around the house. The doctor had said Diana would be free to go in the morning, I was still terrified. Morning rolled around and Diana was still sick, so they decided to keep her. My insides raged, my voice remained calm and collected.

“Better safe than sorry”

Around five in the afternoon they released her. Emotionally and physically drained, I took the night off from work. I have been saving my personal time since news of our latest addition, so I have about 100 hours dedicated to bonding with my son and building that paternal connection. Having my wife home, still sick but feeling better, I needed last night. I’m excited for our newborn son, but I want him to be full term when he comes. I don’t want to relive having a wife in ICU and a child in NICU.

The past few days have been a reminder of our first childbirth. From that experience I got two handsome boys who have taught me so much more about being a man than anything else. I also gained a phobia for when the time comes, a fear of loss. As flashbacks to the first time play through my head I begin to feel the full impact and gravity of what’s to happen very soon.

How were your pregnancies? Were there complications? Do you or your significant other feel the need to stay strong during such emotional times?



Someday my wife will murder me.

My wife might murder me one day. I’m pretty sure she will get away with it too. Diana loves those murder shows. You know, the ones with the women who take out life insurance policies then off their spouses. I’m pretty sure she watches them for research purposes.

It’s only a matter of time before it happens. So I’ve decided to put together a list of possible reasons for a future cyanide sandwich. These are all very plausible causes for why my wife finally snaps.

1) Laundry

I never do laundry, ever. When we moved into our current place the first thing we got was a washer and a dryer. That was the beginning of March. How many times have I used them? Not once! I never do laundry! Without my wife, my clothes would just pile up in a corner of my room. Before Diana I was terrible with laundry, when I needed socks I would go out and buy a pack of socks from the store. 90% of my clothes were Febreze cleaned. Sure, I’ll fold some clothes occasionally but I always have an excuse not to do laundry. From “there’s monsters in the basement” to “I have to use the bathroom can you do it for me” I refuse to do laundry.

In addition to being allergic to laundry I also suffer from compulsive changing disorder. I wear about four different shirts a day. I’ll go from a short sleeve to a thermal back to a new short sleeve only to return to long sleeve before settling on shirtless. All before noon time! I don’t just change my shirts fifty times, I leave them everywhere. Shirt comes off, gets thrown somewhere in whatever room I’m in. Guests probably think we are some nymphomaniacs because my clothes are EVERYWHERE.

2) Dishes

This is a hostile area in our house. I hate doing dishes! Who doesn’t? I’ll wash sippy cups and things of the toddler nature but that’s it. If all the bowls are dirty I’ll pout about the house as I eat cereal off a plate and drink milk from the jug.

This is a hot button issue that has lead to fights. I think I’ve washed a full sink of dishes two or three times. The only reason? My wife literally threatened to withhold sex. No more sexy time with dishes in the sink. You can only be strong for a few days before that threat becomes a real issue. We are a young couple, sex is still fun, going a few days without sex is like becoming a born again virgin.

Speaking of sex…

3) Aftercourse

Sex is awesome, if it wasn’t we probably wouldn’t be on the verge of having our next kid. It’s after intercourse that I get myself in trouble. I’m not a cuddler, at all. After doing the dirty dirty I want to do one of two things; go to bed or eat a bowl of spaghetti. After bang bang time my wife likes to snuggle up next to me and ask what is on my mind. I fail that question. Every. Single. Time.

“I’m hungry.”
“Is there anything on tv tonight?”
“Do we have spaghetti?”
“I love you… But seriously spaghetti”

I can’t help it! My first instinct after a good horizontal shuffle is to run to the fridge and carbo load. I just got done working out, it’s my favorite exercise but still, I need to hydrate and refuel. My libido doesn’t run on cuddles and sappy conversation. I love my wife but if We’ve been doing some boot knocking I need to follow it immediately with a energy boost. At least put some power bars and gatorade by the bed if you want to keep me in it after coitus.

4) Public

I can’t be taken anywhere. I don’t like people, they annoy me. To bring me in public is like taking a dog to the vet, she has to tug and tug my leash to get me out of the house. Once in public my ability to speak with out thinking shines through. Kids say the darnedest things, Briton says the craziest things.

I have an amazingly low tolerance for ignorance and stupidity. If I see someone doing something dumb, I have three snarky comments for them. I also get a huge case of stroller rage. I’m such a defensive driver when it comes to public places. Don’t you dare unintentionally bump my kids stroller, you will receive glares and sarcastic comments. I will ask for your insurance information if you bump carts with me.

5) Sleep

I fake sleep to get out of doing things. If I don’t want to do what’s asked of me I turn narcoleptic. It’s a technique I have honed and perfected over the years dating back to my childhood. The instant Diana asks me about something I don’t feel like answering or asks me to do dishes I immediately fake sleep. I’m sort of like a opossum except I’m defending myself from responsibility.

Let me tell you, it pisses Diana off. Like really pisses her off. Out of everything on this list this is the most likely to get me killed. Diana flips out when I suddenly fall into a coma because I don’t feel like taking the trash out. I’ve even got a snore down for these rather frequent occasions.

Needless to say, I’m doomed to become a plot line in an upcoming Law and Order. I’ve accepted this and have always known it. Whenever my wife is mad at me those shows get turned on and I see her typing away on her phone. I can only assume she is typing notes so she can get away with the perfect crime. Keep your eyes out for a Dateline special when Punk Rock Papa goes missing, just don’t be surprised when they don’t find my body.

Is your significant other plotting to kill you? Are you plotting to kill them? Do you think I’ll get a whole special or just a segment?