In May of 2011, I dismissed class for the last time and began a new chapter in my life, full-time dad. I taught middle school for seven years, but with two kids and a third on the way, I wasn't able to give as much time to teaching as it required, plus I wanted to spend more time with my own kids, instead of someone else's.
My wife and I have been married for nine years. She spends her days (and some nights and weekends) as an OB/GYN, or as my kids like to call it, “catching babies.”
We have three kids. First Born is eight years old, but likes to pretend she’s in college. Our son, Middle Man is five, but we’re convinced by the way he talks about things like “beautiful sunsets” that he’s an old soul, and our youngest, the Blonde Bomber is only three, but already has the attitude of a teenager.
Our kids provide us with an endless amount of stories. Writing and retelling these stories for Indy’s Child has been my part-time job for the past three years.
You can contact me on Facebook at True Confessions of a Stay at Home Dad or via email at firstname.lastname@example.org.
November 18, 2013 | 08:40 AM
It all started innocently enough, with a text from a friend asking if our daughter would like to participate in a sticker trade.
Sure, I thought. Sounds simple enough.
One week later, my daughter received a small package in the mail. There were stickers, and instructions. Oh boy. What did I get myself in to?
I read and reread the instructions a couple of times to try to make sense of what I was supposed to do next. This was turning out to be more like a chain letter than a simple exchange. The only difference being, you weren't going to die if you didn't complete the task like you would with a chain letter, but you would be directly responsible for disappointing a small child. Guilt Trip.
While I was trying to make sense of what we needed to do, my daughter had already filled out the enclosed paper with a Sharpie. I was supposed to make copies of the paper to mail to other kids. Oh boy.
In a rule that goes back to my teaching middle school days, I hate White Out, so we don't have it in our house. If you think hate is too strong of a word, spend a few years with thirteen year olds and see what kind of amazing messes they can make with White Out, then judge my comment again.
What was I to do? I turned to the Internet. After several searches, I found a printable similar enough to the one we received in the mail. But before I could print it, I needed to fix my printer. You see, I saved a couple bucks by refilling my printer cartridges instead of buying new ones. The only problem with this is, the printer doesn't know the cartridges are full and continues to tell me it can't print because there is no ink. So after 15 more minutes of internet searching, I "convince" my printer it has ink. Only then was I able to print out the form, copy it and fill it out correctly.
Next up, where to find some stickers? Over the last several years, my daughter has probably owned tens of thousands of stickers. Recently, she doesn't seem to like them as much, but I figured I could still find some in her room. Apparently, what she does like to do is take one or two stickers off each page, so there isn't a single sheet that's compete and can be gifted.
With the mission of buying stickers, I head to Target. By the time I checkout, my $2.99 pack of stickers, turned into a $54.00 trip to the store. Time to add to the list of things I hate:
1. White Out
Now that I have my stickers, envelopes, copies of papers I'd printed out and addressed the envelopes, I just needed to stamp them. Then I would finally be done.
We are out of stamps.