Tidy Husband

Eligible for the seniors discount and the Happy Meal deal at the same time.

  1. Screaming for Ice Cream

    Ice cream makes it all better when your parents are older.

    For those that are counting this is the second time that we have gone out for Ice cream this week and they were both by accident, in a way.

    just look at the size of those scoops…

    You see - and we had talked about this all week - tonight was the night for the ice cream social at her school. We had been looking forward to it all week. In fact, when she got sent home from school earlier this week the first thing she said to me was that she hopes to get better in time to go to the ice cream social. I guaranteed that we would have ice cream on Thursday night regardless of what happens.

    So, we had an early-ish dinner and then got out the door to go to the ice cream social at her school and then we pulled up to her school and found there were just 3 cars in the lot.

    This is not good.

    Huh. It seems not a very popular social….. Wait? Do we have the date right for this?

    No. Of course not.

    CUE THE SCREAMING

    We screwed up. They send her home with so many activities and dates an forms and emails - it’s hard to keep track lately and then there’s the over zealous nurse and the unneeded doctors appointments and well…we screwed up.

    In our defense we did have the day right - to order our ice cream. The actual date is in 2 weeks for the ice cream so all is not lost as there is MORE ice cream in her future.

    Of Course We Still Had Ice Cream, Silly.

    The child settled down rather quickly and then it became a question of where to go? We used to go to a place a mile down the road that was great, but the sold out to a local outfit that’s bigger and is not half as good and overall this sucks.

    The choice was either Dairy Queen (meh) or Dee-Dee’s in Niagara Falls. We chose the latter and we are glad we did because even though we’ve driven by it many, many times we never stopped because we had our local ice cream joint to go to. The highlight of this ice cream shoppe is that they carry Perry’s Ice Cream as well as having soft serve.

    And I have to tell you that the Perry’s is good stuff. It was worth the drive to Niagara Falls.

    Another reason to love it? The portions are HUGE. Our small servings were TWO HUGE scoops each. Both the child and BW could not finish theirs they were so big. Me? I took one for the team and finished mine. Add this to my list of questionable life choices.

    The next time we go we’re going to order the “baby” sized, because even the baby sized portions are more than enough. I can’t imagine anyone ordering the large - it’s like 5 scoops of ice cream!

    just one of the many flavors available

    With our bulging bellies, we went home and attempted to get the child to go to bed, but because she was full of more ice cream than she’s ever had in her life she had to go run laps in front of the house first to burn off some of that energy and to get in shape for the fun run she has tomorrow.

    We have hit up every should we know for some cash to sponsor her for this run so we will be there tomorrow afternoon to cheer her on and then because it’s Friday we’ll just bring her home because it’s been a week.

    Thank you to all that have sponsored her.

    Now it’s up to her to race tomorrow. We were doing time trials tonight - she’s got it down to 24 seconds from mailbox to mailbox. (whatever that means)

    Oh. The diet? It starts tomorrow.

    Until Next Time,

    TH and Co.

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  2. I Thought Bath Time Would be Easier by Now

    A few paragraphs about smelly feet and what I thought would be an easy night.

    She came in from playing in the front yard and had trouble getting her shoes off. So I went over to help her and as soon as I pulled her shoe off there was no denying it - tonight was going to be a bath night. Those were some smelly little toes.

    Photo by S. Tsuchiya on Unsplash

    A bath was in her future.

    The only thing she’s still not comfortable with is getting the bath started and temperature right - but after that she’s more than big enough to hop into the tub herself. She asked for a few rubber ducks I was happy to toss her way and I thought we had a good night ahead of us as she was happily singing and splashing away with her little rubber friends.

    I was wrong.

    While she was up there singing her heart out to her rubber ducks I was thinking that boy, bath time sure got a lot easier lately.

    I was wrong (again)

    I asked her if she washed herself like I asked her to because she was full of stink and magic marker residue and God knows what else.Tomorrow is an ice cream social at the school after dinner that she’s very excited about and I thought it would be nice if she smelled, you know - nice.

    She told me she had washed herself, but the evidence proved otherwise. In short, she lied

    She wasn’t getting out of the tub without some soap of some kind actually touching her body so I offered to help her but she was not cooperating at all.

    Sooooo…..To quote Frank Sinatra: We did it my way.

    She did not like my way.

    Finally she settled down and hopped out of the tub and I found my little charge in her bedroom teary and shivering because she hadn’t dried herself off at all and was trying to put on PJ’s on her wet body.

    I got her dried off and warm and PJ’d and when she couldn’t control the tears any more she exclaimed “I’m tired!”

    I know pumpkin. This is all going to be okay.

    Let’s go to bed.

    Also, your feet smell so much better.

    Sweet Dreams,

    TH and Co.

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  3. Pleading the Fifth

    A story about being misdiagnosed.

    The day started okay.

    Photo by Erika Fletcher on Unsplash

    I got up early to drive Uber but the child got up too early and so I kind of got stuck here to avoid a meltdown. I got her some cereal and we hung out at the kitchen table for a bit.

    Breakfast was had and I snuck out of the house while she was getting dressed for school.

    BW took over and got her out the door. She was fine and had no problems getting on the bus.

    Easy day, right?

    Yeah….No.

    I was sitting in my car when the phone rang and up came the call display.

    IT WAS THE SCHOOL. THE CHILD’S SCHOOL!

    I know every parent has a lot of fears but one of the biggest ones is when the school calls and says your child is sick and has to come home.

    So I did what every parent would do that didn’t want to have their entire day shot by picking up their child early:

    I told the school they were wrong.

    The school wasn’t having any of it. You see, they’ve had a bit of a breakout of fifth disease. I will let you click on the link to read all the details, but the school nurse-bless her heart - decided that this has to be what the child has and she needed to go home.

    Now in her defense, the child did have a bit of red cheeks and a small rash. We’re not that parents that sends their school sick so we had no issues sending her to school because guess what: It’s our child and we know what she’s supposed to look like.

    Why was she red and trashy? I’m not a doctor and I don’t play one on TV but our guess is a lot of sun and not much sunscreen this weekend. I have a feeling that she’s allergic to something in her own sweat and it gives her rash.

    I told the nurse she has excema and that’s it.

    The nurse didn’t buy it. Come pick up your kid.

    CRAP!

    “See you in 20 minutes”, I say.

    I drive across town and collect the kid and sure, she’s a little rashy but she’s fine.

    On the way to school I call the doctor and get an appointment 2 hours later (pretty good time I thought) so we can come to grips with what this is.

    In the meantime, BW has had some issues with her recent surgery and she’s been on the horn with the doctors and there’s a prescription waiting. I drop the child off at home and of course, she thinks this is a holiday and she can watch her tablet.

    “Maybe later”, I say as I head out the door. The child sighs and picks up a book.

    I get the meds for BW at the drugstore and get her going with her first dose.

    Okay. I have a half hour to make lunch and get the child out the door.

    Grilled cheese sandwiches all around. While I am making these sandwiches the school calls again but this time It’s the occupational therapist for the child and she wants to chat about the child’s progress.

    Um…ya. Hang on, you can talk to BW. Spoiler: the child is more than fine and doesn’t need to continue OT next school year. so, yay.

    The supposedly sick child hoovers an entire grilled cheese and a glass of milk. Just for giggles when we’re on the way out the door, I check her temperature and it’s perfectly normal.

    Let’s go!

    Now we drive 25 minutes across town because the local office near us decided that it’s not worth it to be open anymore so now we schlep our sick child across town.

    I’ve pre checked in while the grilled cheese were grilling so one would think we are good to go when we arrive, but now we have to check in again at the kiosk with the same information they already have. (sigh) Because I already checked in online.

    The good news is that they took us right away and we didn’t have to wait long.

    The nurse takes us in,weighs her (41lbs!) and then says the doc will be in soon.

    “What can we do?”, the child asks?

    “Tell me a story”, she says.

    On the fly, I make up a story about a hyena, a snake, a beaver and a zebra that walk a long time over Africa and then have to cross a river to get to the Lion’s house for a sleepover.

    She loved it. I’m a good story teller.

    she looks pretty healthy to me.

    The Doc comes in just in time because I was kind of running out of animals for my story. She asks why we’re here and I tell her how the school is worried about fifth disease.

    The Doc takes a look and says “she doesn’t have 5th disease”. She said that even if she did have it, it’s not harmful other than the kids get red cheeks and then it passes. The only warning was that if she was really sick and feverish she shouldn’t be around pregnant women, but if she was that sick we would keep her home.

    We have the all clear from the Doc for her to go back to school. The doc asked if she wanted the note so she could go back to school today but I said, no tomorrow is fine.

    Why? Because if we’re at the Doctors and we do well - we get a treat after. They don’t hand out lollipops at the doctors anymore so I have to find my own. I blame the tariffs.

    On the way out, I ask the child: Ice Cream or Donuts?

    “Ice cream”, she says.

    Ice cream it is:

    this does not look like a sick child.

    We ended up ordering a “Mexican Sundae”, which I thought was not the most politically correct name, but whatever.

    We made a deal: I would eat the peanuts and she would eat the chocolate and ice cream part.

    We’re a great team.

    We come home and because we’re a family we brought mommy an ice cream too because she wasn’t feeling well, and ice cream makes everything better.

    By this time, it’s about 2pm and BW is upstairs asleep and the child is on her tablet because technically it’s a no school day - thanks to the school nurse, so with everybody occupied, I take a nap. I’ve been up since six solving problems - don’t judge me.

    Post nap, I clean both bathrooms and mop the floors and get dinner ready. Thank God for Blue Apron.

    While I am doing the dishes and cleaning up the child gets bored and finds some papers and a pen. I’m busy at the sink so I really don’t pay much attention:

    “Hey Dad - How to you spell the word right”

    “WRITE or RIGHT?” I ask.

    “When you have the right answer, she replies.

    OH.

    R-I-G-H-T, I tell her.

    Later I go to clean up the mess after I get her down in bed, and only then do I see that she had been doing a crossword puzzle!

    And that’s the theme for today:

    I WAS RIGHT.

    She’s fine. (and kind of scary smart too)

    Until next time,

    TH and Co.

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  4. Fetch the Bolt Cutters

    A story about losing your mind.

    Photo by Belinda Fewings on Unsplash

    We mowed and dug our little brains out yesterday and we had the keys to the back shed then.

    Today? No keys.

    I look at all the usual places: pants I was wearing, in the bottom of the washing machine, laundry hamper - any place that I could possibly think I placed the keys

    NO keys to be found. Anywhere.

    I’m usually pretty good at putting stuff back - I am the tidy husband after all, but today I blew it.

    I searched and searched and searched. No keys to be found.

    I had backups of the key for the gate to the backyard, but I did not have an extra key to the lock so like the title says: I had to fetch the bolt cutters.

    This is the second time I have had to do this in the 13 years I have lived here. So not horrible odds. Of course, the keys I lost will show up tomorrow somewhere. I just know it.

    A trip to the hardware store for a new padlock and I was good to go again.

    Still, it’s a silly mistake.

    A minor milestone today: I have passed 4000 rides as an Uber driver. I am not sure how I feel about that. The goal is to write here enough that I could somehow make this a part-time job out of this little writing hobby so I will not have to drive another 4000 people around.

    It’s funny, when I started this I thought “ew. people in your car”, but for the most part people just hop in and stare at their phone the entire trip. Sometimes I forget they are back there in the back seat and there’s worse jobs by far. I start and stop when I want. (or when BW lets me) so that’s nice.

    This Uber driving is okay. It’s flexible, and that’s where the pay is. If we have an emergency at home then I’m 20 minutes away at most and I don’t have to ask for permission to go home or have a day off.

    I don’t like asking for permission, so this suits for now.

    I have 27 years to make a go of this writing thing according to my most recent calculations - so I have some time.

    I hope.

    Until Next Time,

    TH and Co.

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  5. Last Man Standing

    Mother’s Day 2025 damn near killed us.

    What a day

    kayaker at the state park.

    The day started as one would expect: An excited child with a Mother’s Day card made at school and Dad following right behind up the stairs with a cup of coffee for Mom.

    Gifts were given, hugs were shared and then the morning fell back to the usual routine for an hour of all of us staring at devices.

    Until. I decided that was enough screen time and today was the day for yard work and so off I went to mow the lawn. The problem with mowing the lawn is twofold:

    1. I have a small electric mower
    2. I have a large lawn.

    It’s rare that I get a full mow before I run out of battery power. This isn’t such a big deal because then I have an excuse for a nap while the batteries are recharging. There’s no race, and I can always mow more the next day.

    While I mowed, the child played tag with the dog and then just entertained herself in her own little world until it was time to go for out walk on the ocean - It’s not an ocean, it’s the Niagara River, but when she was smaller she called it the ocean so it stuck.

    We pack sandwiches. We did better than the peanut butter I thought we would pack when I wrote about this yesterday. We went all fancy and had ham and cheese croissants instead.

    Ooh. La. La.

    Nothing says camping like a croissant.

    We hiked, we looked for wildlife (there wasn’t much - a few birds) and we sat on a wooden bench made of logs and had our lunch. It was quiet and we maybe say 6 others in the hour we were there.

    On the way back she threw rocks in the water because at this point it’s a tradition and then on the way back we raced down the path toward the car

    Want to know what I haven’t been doing a lot of? Racing. I forgot how to move you guys. I was better once I warmed up but at the current state my running days are behind me. I don’t remember running hurting so bad.

    That said, I don’t remember running recently.

    The child beat me handily.

    The plan was to then pick up a few things at the hardware store and head home. We went to the hardware store and got our things and then decided because it’s mothers day and all we might as well go to buy some plants at the garden center.

    I tell the child not to touch the plants about 200 times.

    We come home with a car full of pretty plants.

    I have another stab at the lawn now that the batteries have recharged while I am out.

    Lawn is mowed.

    Surely I am done now? I can sit down?

    OH NO. Now I have to shovel wheelbarrows of dirt from the front yard to the back to fill up our garden planters because we’re now farmers, or something and we’re growing vegetables in the back yard now? Hey - I just live here.

    I shovel, and shovel and shovel because BW said so.

    BW plants tiny little flowers on her knees in the front yard for far too long and loves every minute of it.

    The child? She’s overtired and annoying.

    Finally the dirt has been placed where it needs to be, the flowers have been planted and the child is beyond tired. We are hoping she makes it to bed without a meltdown because the adults in the room are tired and cannot deal with a meltdown.

    Then it’s cleanup time and BW makes dinner, which was very delicious and fancy.

    OKAY THEN. BEDTIME!

    Hang on Dad, there has to be a bath.

    OKAY. NOW IT’S BEDTIME?

    Not yet. She needs her hair dried and teeth brushed

    TODO It’s BEDTIME

    BW leads her to her room and closes the door and we both thank the good Lord for another great day and that she will just put herself to bed.

    Minutes later I hear the pitter-patter of little steps as I am trying to write this. I stop writing and went and got her in the bed and settled down..It took a bit but we got there.

    Finally, she’s in that twilight spot where she’s almost asleep and then she opens her eyes one last time and pleads: huggie…….zzzz

    She’s out.

    BW is out.

    We are both so sore it’s not funny.

    It was a great mother’s day full of sunshine and fresh air and rarely used muscles that are going to remind us of our choices tomorrow.

    Our flowers look nice though - so there’s that.

    Until Next Time,

    TH and Co.

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