Dad! You forget to wear your leash!
Once every four years, the great state of Iowa becomes relevant for more than soybeans and college wrestling. Monday was that day, in the most uninspiring field of U.S. presidential candidates in my lifetime, Miss Madison and I watched the returns knocking back shots of Fireball every time CNN obviously made an excuse for Hillary Clinton. Somehow we both made it to work Tuesday because we were three sheets to the wind by nine p.m., Hammy evidently had decent odds at some offshore gambling mecca and had heavy action on Ted Cruz so he’s talking trash like an NBA player and has hooked up to an IV of Absolut. Off course, none of these is true except for Hammy.
Even Hammy has been enjoying the warm weather in his outdoor suite.
The weekend came and went quicker than I would have liked, but Sloane had the time of her life for the short couple of days. Pay attention loyal reader because we are going to be moving at breakneck speed.
Look who is back from her bluegrass sabbatical!
No snakes were harmed in taking this picture.
Friday under the cloak of darkness (or construction traffic) I secretly got behind enemy lines (Kentucky….word on the darknet is the bounty is up to 750k for me) to go rescue my little crumb snatcher from Walmartians and various other characters of ill repute. Once we arrived back to the friendly confines of Indiana Sloane and Miss Madison Jr. debated dating tips for Barbie and who would win an Anna & Elsa arm wrestling match. If you do not have children under the age of 12, move on, you will never know who those two are. On a personal level, it just felt good to have her under the same roof as me again. Go two weeks without seeing your child and get back to me on how bad it sucks.
Write this post, and I’m relegated to hash brown duty for life!
Saturday Miss Madison Jr. had to participate in the All-Valley Parents worst nightmare swim meet sponsored by Speedo at the Vevay, Indiana YMCA. Our last adventures in Vevay didn’t turn out so well (at least for me, and we missed the Air Supply concert to boot), and this time it wasn’t much better. Youth swim parents, you have my deepest sympathies. Fifty-seven…let that sink in….yeah you heard me 57 freaking heat races for ages 5-14. Miss Madison Jr. was in only three of them: races 12, 25, and (ugh) 54, no halftime entertainment, no cheerleaders, no live concerts, no concession stand, no promotional Speedo gear, nothing but body odor and wet kids! Thankfully Miss Madison gave me, the Turtle Man , and Sloane a furlough and we were off to the park down the road on the bustling banks of the Ohio River.
My extra spidey sense was on high alert when the wee ones were swimming!
These two had an amazing time at the park!
Thankfully I talked Sloane out of going for a swim!
Thanks, Kentucky the view is amazing!
Once Miss Madison Jr. had completed her quest to become the next Janet Evans it was back to corporate offices for a quaint evening of dinner and weddings. Per Sloane’s request she wanted her dad’s famous chicken wings. Those are her words, not mine. I would say they were world famous and often imitated never duplicated, but of course, I’m humble. Then the real fun began! Unbeknownst to Miss Madison and I, the kids planned a mock wedding for us. The key word in that previous sentence is mock. Complete with cut up construction paper for flower petals, streamers, corresponding music, you name it the kids didn’t miss a beat. Skipah made a mental note to curb Sloane’s Disney TV addiction because she’s never attended a wedding in her life (yes I know she has a stepdad, hey I wasn’t invited either), and between her and Miss Madison Jr. you would have thought they were auditioning for Bridezillas the way they were barking orders!
I wish I had more pictures, it was the cutest thing ever by the kiddos!
Sloane was a happy camper, and Miss Madison learned to not even attempt to talk to me when I’m on wing binge!
Church pitch in Sunday morning, my fan club is growing Madison!
Since I get zero cooperation regarding Sloane and transport, we had to cut our Sunday a little short so I could pick out a new disguise to infiltrate the ‘Tucky woods to return her to her four-walled prison that is an hour and change away. The weather did hold out long enough though for us to enjoy a long overdue bike ride. It was while we were riding bikes that I learned my little girl has grown into a young woman much quicker than she ever should have had to. The “ride” as I’m replaying it my head is for another blog post, but stay tuned, the absolute horse shit she has gone through since November reeks of strong handed tactics, unprofessionalism, and outright bitterness against me for no other reason than I exist.
About it for tonight, Hammy is about to start a Twitter war with Donald Trump and I don’t need that headache in my life right now. Hell for all I know he’s doubling down on Bernie Sanders next week in New Hampshire. This is my life these days: A kick ass girlfriend/mother that is still trying to grasp the lunacy I go through to stay in touch with Sloane, a daughter that is more confused than a surfer in Alaska, and a freaking pickled hamster betting on elections. Top that!
It’s election season, candidate Skipah would love your vote!