The How-Not-To Guide to Parenting and Marriage

by Jon Ziegler

  And then I began to wonder what kind of questions my wife having to answer while I hid in the shower, and it made me tremble in horror. Maybe I should go out and help her explain things . . . . . No way. I was staying put.

  I hid out until the hot water had long run out, and my whole body had pruned. I could stay no longer. I had to get out regardless of whether the child molester cops were waiting for me or not. I could only hope that at the very least, the inevitable conversation between the child and mother was over.

  After dressing, I tip-toed out of the bathroom and around the corner to find my wife sitting on the couch with a bewildered look on her face.

  "Did she ... uhh" I started to ask.

  "Ohhh yes!" my wife interrupted firmly.

  Trying to become as invisible as possible, I went outside and sat down in my shed, and began writing my goodbye letters to the family while I waited for the child welfare cops to come hall me away.

  I waited until midnight before finally going back into the house. The cops never did come for me that night, or ever, much to my surprise.

  I found out later from my wife, that the child's only question to her was how boys could poop with the equipment they were given. I didn't ask how she answered the question, nor did she offer.

  I have also learned since then, that many parents are very open with their children about such things, and maybe that's the best policy, but to insure I never have to relive such an incident, I have taken to showering with swimming trunks on.

  I was a bit surprised by the number of people I had upset with yesterday’s story, The Horror. This is sincerely not my intention.

  I had people angry because I had let my daughter see me naked. I had people angry because she had not seen me naked prior to the incident, and I think a few people who simply wanted to let me know that I’m an idiot . . . but that is sort of the underlying theme to these stories so it was no surprise.

  At any rate, I have decided to change my writing style a bit, in the interest of not making people angry.

  You will notice as you read the revised version of yesterday’s story, that at certain key points, there are blank lines, followed by a number of options for the reader to put into the blanks. This way the reader can choose the options and mold the story in a way that is least upsetting and the funniest to them. Who knows, I may have stumbled on to the future of comedy.

  You will also notice that before the lettered list of options for some blanks, it will say “use corr. Letter”. This simply means that to make the story flow better, it is recommended that you choose the option whose letter corresponds with the option you chose for the previous blank.

  I hope you enjoy!

  21. THE HORROR (revised)

  My wife and I were _______ (A. arguing B. singing hymns C. ignoring each other D. talking sexy to each other) while I was showering, and she was doing her hair at the sink.

  At certain points, my wife would rip open the shower curtain and _________ (use corr. letter: A. punch me in the face B. sing the chorus in harmony C. ignore me face to face D. admire my physique, and pinch me in the butt)

  When she had had enough, she shut the shower curtain for a final time and left the bathroom with a slam of the door.

  A few minutes later, I heard the door open again, followed by the sound of the shower curtain being ripped open. But instead of my wife standing there, it was my daughter who had just turned three.

  Being a bit surprised I immediately ________ (A. tried to cover myself with a small mango scented bar of soap B. thought nothing of it because it was normal C. spanked her D. hugged her E. realized that it was my imagination because I had dead-bolted the bathroom door F. walked out of the bathroom and down two blocks to the local bar, still wet and naked)

  After she had left I __________ (use corr. letter: A. tried a bite of the mango flavored soap because it smelled so good B. continued to think even more nothing of it C. told her mother to re-spank her D. told the rest of the family to come in the bathroom for a hug E. realized that her leaving must also be my imagination since the bathroom door was dead-bolted and it had been my imagination that she was there in the first place F. got beat up by a biker gang who didn’t appreciate a wet naked guy in their bar ).

  I then stood there in the shower fully expecting a visit from ___________ (A. the child molester cops B. the Nudist society C. a Republican politician D. a Democrat politician E. extra-terrestrials) who would surely _________ (use corr. letter: A. arrest me B. congratulate me C. ruin the country D. ruin the country E. abduct and perform experiments and probings on me).

  In the end I had definitely learned my lesson, from now on I would __________ (A. always shower with clothes on B. add a second dead bolt to the bathroom door C. begin showering as a family D. stop showering all together E. never taste mango scented soap again F. outlaw clothing in our family G. make the family cover every square inch of skin with some sort of clothing H. nothing, because this story is fictional and absurd like all my stories).

  22. SHOWERING GENIUS

  Being the intellectual type, I can’t help but try to streamline daily tasks and processes. Just because something has been done a certain way for long periods of time, doesn’t mean that they can’t be improved upon.

  One morning, as I was standing in the shower, I was startled when the cat came flying through the shower curtain in a panic, followed by our dog Pippi. Now, the dog chasing the cat was nothing new around our house, but the dog and the cat ending up in the shower with me was a new development.

  The brain of an ordinary man would have been preoccupied with the multiple lacerations that he had sustained on his legs and buttocks during the dog and cat scuffle that he had been in the middle of, but I barely even noticed the pain and blood. Instead, my mental gears began to turn as I stood in the warm flow of water, looking down at Pippi.

  I was in the shower, Pippi was in the shower. We were both already wet, so why not give the dumb dog a bath . . . . . or shower as it were.

  In the days that followed, I couldn’t help but be proud of my combining my showering with dog bathing, and I began to think of other things that I could incorporate to make the time wasted in the shower more productive. A natural progression seemed to be washing clothes.

  I figured I could just wear whatever clothes I wanted to wear for the day, while I was in the shower. I’m sure that the scrubbing of the clothes will also seep through to my body and clean it as well. The only dilemma was whether I should use detergent or body wash, so just to be safe, I settled on using a dash of both.

  The drying of the clothes needed some adjustment as well. At first, I liked the idea of just showering with the clothes on that I would wear for the day, and then just walking out of the bathroom ready to head off to work. However, I discovered that it takes anywhere from three to six hours for the clothes that you had showered in to dry, which seems to also lead to chafing in “uncomfortable places”. Chafing that my wife delighted in calling diaper rash. So now, I shower with the clothes on that I will wear for tomorrow, and then hang them over the shower curtain rod, and put on the clothes that I showered in yesterday.

  I found that by showering twice a day, I could even help out with some of the rest of the family’s laundry (with the exception of my daughters jeans because I can’t fit into them). But my helpful efforts were not appreciated, and instead, were the subject of anger and ridicule from my wife when she happened to walk into the bathroom just as I was stepping out of the shower, wearing the dress that she would most likely wear to church that Sunday . . . . Freshly laundered, might I add.

  As time went on, I continued develop more time saving activities that could be incorporated into showering, and have come up with a daily showering schedule that looks like this:

  Monday. .

  Morning shower . . . . Laundry (I’ve now gone to a two or three outfit shower by making one or wardrobe changes)

  Mid-day shower . . . . . dishes from previous day.

  Tue
sday. .

  Morning shower . . . . . laundry and dog every other week

  Mid-day shower . . . . . dishes and watering of half the house plants (I can’t fit all the house into the shower at once, but I’m working on a rack system that would accommodate all of them)

  Wed. . . . .

  Morning shower . . . . . laundry, and second half of house plants

  Mid-day shower . . . . . dishes

  Evening shower. . . . . .Drapes and linen, alternate

  Thurs. . . .

  Morning shower. . . . . .Laundry and attempt at washing one of the cats . . . if I’m feeling ambitious

  Mid-day shower . . . . . dishes

  Evening shower. . . . . .Bathroom throw rugs and scour the shower walls.

  Friday. . .

  Morning shower . . . . . catch up on any laundry or dishes

  The system seems to be working well, in spite of spending most of my days with pruned fingers. And I continue to look for new ways to improve on my system. One idea of mine, is to build a shower that you can drive your car into, so you can shower and wash your car at the same time. I would call it the “car wash” . . . . . . . Well, ok, I know that someone already used that name, so maybe I’d call it the “car shower”.

  23. BUCKLE UP FOR INSANITY

  When you really think about it, who rides in back seats? I'll tell you who, children who are being driven by their parents, and teenagers who have too many other teenagers in the car with them to all fit in the front seat. That's who rides in back seats. Of course, grandma rides back there occasionally, but it's generally small children and teenagers. Knowing this, why wouldn't the car company's design the safety restraints to accommodate small children? Adults never ride back there, teenagers are too cool to care about seat belts, and grandma,. . . well she’s not gonna be around forever anyhow. But no, it requires several pounds of machinery and a PHD to safely restrain a child in the back seat.

  Car seats are like a Rubik's cube for a young father. They are not in the slightest bit self-explanatory, and usually this is not apparent until the mother has already driven off with her friends to the "Pampered Chef" party, and the young father is left standing with a child in one arm, and the car seat with its seventeen buckles and straps, in the other. This is where the fun begins.

  My maiden voyage with the car seat, after being left holding it in one hand and Hannah in the other, had me scratching my head and swearing for no less than an hour. The first challenge being, getting the car seat secured in the car.

  I had no idea which way the stupid thing was supposed to be facing. Should the child be facing the front of the car, or the back? Or maybe they should be strapped in like an astronaut, looking at the roof of the car. I tried to imagine different accident scenario's in hopes that I could then figure out the safest position for the seat and child. But there are too many different possibilities. A head on collision, a car hitting us from the side, a garbage truck hitting us from behind, a car hitting us from one side and a garbage truck hitting us from the other at the same time, a jetliner crash landing on top of the car, or even one of those giant worms from the movie TREMORS bashing us from underneath. This line of reasoning was getting me nowhere, and soon had me wondering if it wouldn't be easier and safer to just place the child and seat together in the trunk.

  I finally decided to strap the seat in facing forward so I could at least see what the child was up to, and moved on to the more challenging next problem; strapping the child in the seat.

  For this process, I had straps, buckles, clasps, and something that looked like a noose coming from every corner of the seat. And again, it was not self-explanatory as to how each binding should be attached to the child. Growing impatient, the thought crossed my mind that it might be easiest to unstrap the seat, set the child down and then place the seat on top of the child with a bag of groceries on it as weight to keep the seat in place. At least this way, when the accident happened and the child went hurling towards the windshield, the bag of groceries and the car seat should create a large enough hole in the glass, to let the child pass through without getting scratched on the jagged edges. But surely, there would be some nosy “perfect parent” complaining as I walked up the road to retrieve my safely ejected child, so I decided against that method. So the next best thing to do was to jump into the task head first, and just start binding the child down like a pile of logs on my work truck.

  Within a few minutes, I had bound each arm and leg independently by buckling and tying it down with whatever lashing happened to be nearest the appendage. But there still remained three straps that had no home. I was able to use one as a chin strap, and added a second binding to her left leg because my knot on the first strap looked suspect. With the third and final strap, I did the old once around the whole seat and child for good measure. I guess it wasn't so hard once I had gotten down to it.

  Unfortunately it's not long before the child begins to outgrow their car seat. This is when a whole new set of challenges arise. The largest of which is the stupid shoulder strap that inevitably ends up across the face of the child.

  At first, I would make the child keep the shoulder strap in place (I enjoyed the fact that it muffled their high pitched little voices). Unfortunately, their developing brains prevented them from realizing that they should not blow bubbles with their gum while the shoulder strap is blocking the area needed for bubble blowing. It took half an hour and a pair of scissors to undue the knots of gum, hair and seat belt. So between that, and the whining, I soon realized that leaving the strap across the child's face wasn't going to work.

  Thinking I had the perfect solution, I tried to take the shoulder strap and give it a good wrap around their neck, leaving it positioned perfectly out of the way of the child's face. However, my wife, rolling her eyes, told me that this idea "wasn't too bright". So I ended up simply safety pinning the strap to their shirts, and out of the way, and gum is outlawed while in the car.

  The hassle and stress that seat belts have caused me, has without a doubt, taken time off the end of my life. Now that my kids have gotten older, and know what seatbelts are, and what their function is, they have become as annoying as the “ding, ding” of the car’s seatbelt alarm. Only they don’t ding, they yell in squeaky, tattle-tale voices, “DAD ISN’T WEARING HIS SEAT BELT!!!” Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder if the mangulation of a wreck isn't worth not having the seat belt insanity. I suppose not, but it's a close call.

  24. THE DENTIST

  It would be an understatement to say that my youngest daughter, Natalie, is not fond of the dentist. When she was younger, my wife and I would have some of the worst fights we’ve had in our marriage, over who would have to take the child to her appointments. I would see one of her checkups written on the calendar, and begin pleading with my boss to come up with something that I “had” to be at work for on that particular day. But in spite of my best efforts, I couldn’t avoid every dance with the Devil, and as luck would have it, or perhaps karma for making up excuses to not be chosen one, I ended up being one who got to take her to her first cavity filling experience.

  Having distracted the little person with a sucker, and the promise of a visit to the local fast food play place if she behaved, the arrival at the dentist and getting her back into the chair went surprisingly smooth. . . . . But did not remain so for very long.

  When the dentist finally made his way into the room, he looked at Natalie sitting in the chair and froze. It was as if his brain was recalling past experiences with her, and then realizing that this would be her first cavity filling. He looked at me, and with a voice that was shaking noticeably, he said, “Well this should be one for the books.”

  He then went over to a counter where all of his implements of torture had been carefully laid out, and then turning back towards Natalie, he held up one of the largest, most evil looking syringes I had ever seen in my life, and said, “Now this won’t hurt toooo bad”.

  As the look of horror spread across N
atalie’s face, I quickly turned and gave the dentist a soul searing frown for his complete lack of tact with the syringe. Quickly I moved into position for any restraining that might be needed. The dentist leaned forward with the syringe, and began to bring it close to the child’s unopened mouth.

  It was at this moment that the room exploded into a flurry of flailing arms, legs, and latex. There were dental instruments flying, teeth gnashing and horrible sounding screams coming from all three of us . . . . . . and then, the room fell silent.

  I had to take a few seconds to inventory what had just taken place. . . . . . . Natalie was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the dentist was now in the chair where she had been, with my foot on his chest. He had both arms around my throat, and he held his eyes tightly shut as he bit down on my thumb, which was in his mouth, for some reason.

  “She’s gone”, I said as he slowly opened his eyes and released his tooth grip on my thumb.

  His gaze was fixed on a point somewhere on my forehead instead of the eye to eye contact that I would have expected from someone with which I had just gone through the Natalie tornado with. Looking up and slightly cross-eyed, I could see the syringe sticking out of my forehead. The Novocain had already begun to render the muscles around my eyes useless, leaving me with what felt like an apathetic, dopey expression on my face, and the inability to frown. I informed the dentist that I was indeed frowning (even though the Novocain may have made it appear that I was pleasantly amused) by his not being able to handle the situation. And then the both of us went to find the child.

  After locating Natalie in the back seat of a car in the parking lot next door the dentist’s office, we wrestled her back into the chair for round two.