The book of silly

Darren is a remarkably silly man. I have a whole book of silly pictures of him and have decided that perhaps it is time to share..

I was frightened by the resemblance. Am I married to a Pirate Poser?? Darren had asked if we could delay Katie's induction by a day so that she could have been born on Talk Like a Pirate day. I had to say uh NO. 

Darren is so excited to be doing the hood to coast this year. He went and bought some special shorts but he wasn't sure of what they were called. I too am stumped. What do you call Man Daisy Dukes? He apparently did not get the memo sent out in the 80's about short shorts on men...Yikes, you should see what pops out during his deep knee bends.
A nice picture of Darren and his mom. I have to be careful when he makes these faces that the kids don't hit him, it would be a tragedy if his face got stuck like this forever. 
What great table manners. True Gentleman. Notice the previously mentioned Kelly green polo. again with the 80's D!! Anyone have a lipstick to put in the wash?
Darren is fairly competitive. Notice how he's left the kids behind and was like dud good luck making it to the top losers...She cried. Many of the other dad's were seen cheering their children on, not trying to kick them off the wall so they could beat them to the top. I think he may have been the only adult to try this wall, ever.
My husband HATES HATES HATES cold water. So much so he wears a pansy suit (aka full body wet suit) in 100 degree weather when we go water skiing or inner tubing on the lake. I mean any lake, Detroit, Merwin, Yale and even Lake Billy Chinook, located in Madras Oregon, a desert. I am constantly trying to unzip it when he's in the water or shove him overboard as he lets out his fantastic old lady scream as soon as the cold water touches his delicate skin. It is so funny I wonder if I'm going to wet my pants. In any event, the other night they are all outside on the trampoline after dinner, (that's how D gets out of dinner chores, takes the kids to play then says I can come do the dishes. The girls naturally protest as then the human jungle gym would disappear. Yet we digress, we have spent many hours talking about this in therapy so I will leave it at that, tear drop tear drop.)

So there are giggles and laughter and all of a sudden I hear the cold water scream. I recognize it immediately, I used to sneak into the bathroom and douse him while he was in the shower just as a little jokey, he never did laugh as hard as I did. I dare not go outside as I assumed one of the girls had a death wish and was in the mood to be destroyed by their dad and had gotten him off guard with the hose. I did not want to get sprayed.  If I walked out there and he had the hose that is sooo what would have happened.

Then I hear splashing and realize my silly husband has lost his mind and that I may have to call 911. He jumped off the trampoline fully clothed in jeans and such into the pool (a huge NO as far as pool rules go) at like 8pm at night and the weather outside as you can see is NOT sunny. Maybe 70 ish? The girls fully dressed jumped in after. I was clever enough to stay far far away from the splashing. Darren feels like he "owes me a few" from all the shower dousing, pool shoving, wet suit unzipping I have done and I try to not give him any opportunity to seek his revenge. 

For all the things he is not, he makes a wonderful playmate to the children. 

My father died when I was ten and I guess I don't remember much about the dishes, the laundry or the floors. I do remember that he shot marshmallows out the windows at kids in our neighborhood with a sling shot, drove around with grapes up his nose and making funny faces just to see how the other drivers would react and allowed us to blow up canned vegetables in the camp fire when mom wasn't around. He made water balloon bombs and bought us super soakers so we could play war in the back yard, he usually won. Us drenched him barely misted. He rented movies and laid on the floor to watch them with us and never got mad when he would wake up and I'd done his hair in ponytails, braids and barrettes. He's let us stand on his back while he sunk to the bottom of the pool and lunch us high into the air, pretending to be the hulk, the life guards would whistle and we'd have wait till they switched out to do it again. I could go on for hours about the fun I remember with my dad. The neighbor kids would knock on the door and ask if my dad could play. Not me, my dad. The not me is a whole 'nother story. I know someday my girls will do the same remember the games and luaghter. Someday he will be gone and they won't remember if he vacuumed or mowed the lawn, but I guess he understands, sometimes better that I, that it just doesn't matter if the house is clean or the grass is short.