a dad’s life

Doyin’s real world dad education.  Preach.

“In 2016 I realized…

  1. Potty training has the ability to completely break my spirit.
  2. I bathed my kids at least three times as much as I bathed myself.
  3. I’ve been kicked, elbowed, head-butted, etc. in the Hang Low more times in the 5.5 years I’ve been a dad than in my whole pre-dad life combined.”

23 Things I Realized As a Dad in 2016 – Daddy Doin’ Work

SoCS – the dress shoes from hell

I think every little girl is fascinated by Cinderella and her glass slippers.

First, there’s that whole “slipper” thing.  You say slipper and I think soft, warm, comfy shoes you shuffle around your house in during wintertime.  It was a bit of a shock to learn that there was no comfy shuffling in Cinderella’s – those were fancy dress shoes.  With heels.  About as far from a slipper as you can get, in my opinion.

Then on top of that, the things were made of glass.  Frankly, there’ve always been a few things that stuck in my craw about having that particular material for her dancing shoes.

Her fairy godmother could have conjured shoes made of anything – jewels, glitter, sparkle of any kind.  Why on earth would she have made them from a material that could shatter?! Especially considering Cinderella had to navigate cobblestone streets, climbing in and out of a carriage, and dancing backwards gracefully.

I get it, she wants Cinderella to make an entrance and catch the prince’s eye, but all it takes is one little misstep…one trip into a ballroom column…one tumble down the stairs.  Suddenly Cinderella is surrounded by glass shards and needs twelve stitches in her right foot.  How’s she supposed to get medical care, make it back to the ball, kiss the prince, and make it home by midnight now?  Seems a bit shortsighted to me.

Then there’s the fact that there’s absolutely no give in glass.  As a Disney princess Cinderella has dainty, size 5 feet, but even little fairy feet start to ache after an hour of ballroom dancing.  The only saving grace to dress shoes is when they stretch just the tiniest bit, just enough to let your toes breathe through one more dance.  But with shoes of glass? That’s never gonna happen.  Sorry, Cinderella, you better learn to suck it up if you want to become queen one day.

SoCS 2

Linda’s Stream of Consciousness Saturdays are open to anyone who’d like to participate.  Pop over and give her blog a visit.  This week’s prompt is “glass.”

Inauguration Day in America

I’ve started this post half a dozen times now and keep stalling out.  I’ll write a sentence, delete it, start again and hate that one as well.  I find myself lost…floundering about in jumbled thoughts, unable to find my footing.

It’s Inauguration Day in America.

Very few people are ambivalent about today.  Some are more outspoken than others, but I’ve yet to meet anyone who still feels undecided about Donald Trump becoming our president.  Opinions run the gamut, but they run strong.

Here, in no particular order, are some of my thoughts on the matter.

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parenthood, survival, and the clothing conundrum

This too shall pass.

The phrase passed from generation to generation, words meant to soothe souls and convince adults that they will indeed survive parenthood without killing their offspring.

It’s used to dull the pain of countless nerve stripping phases of your brood.  The screaming-through-the-night phase.  The unending-diaper-changing years.  The YOU-CAN’T-MAKE-ME, foot-stomping chapter.


One simple phrase intended to keep us from tearing our hair out or running wild in the streets.  So far, so good.

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gratitude: cozy warmth

It’s the little things.  Like coffee.  A soft pillow at night.  The surprise danish dropped off by a neighbor.

And warm slippers.

This sounds rather foolish, perhaps, but in the dead of winter sliding my feet into snug boot slippers makes me sigh in contentment.  Warm…cozy…like a foot hug on a chilly day.

I’m sure this might strike some as slightly ridiculous, to be grateful for slippers.  But then I think about how I might feel if I didn’t have them.  To be cold but unable to reach into a drawer for another pair of socks.  To shiver without a warm sweatshirt to bundle into.

To be able to slip icy feet into soft fleece?  It’s a gratitude, indeed.

My post as part of Colline’s Gratitude Project.