Hairy Penis?

I came home from work the other day after spending half the day at construction job sites sweating with water pouring off me as badly as Rambo in First Blood when Brian Denehy was spraying him down naked with a fire hose (by the way is anyone suprised he was roiding up looking back at these movies? --- maybe it affects your speech too except that Hulk Hogan never stops talking so I'll have to rethink that theory, "Bottom line brotha'...") so I could not wait to change clothes and jump in the pool. The boys always come running out to the garage when they hear me open the door and attach themselves to me like Scooby Doo in Shaggy's arms (Zoik's and Barnacles are my two favorite cartoon expressions for those of you wondering and I'm sure it's been eating at you to know) normally as I have to start walking around like Frankenstein just to balance myself. Anyway on this day Reese followed me into my bathroom where I changed clothes to get my bathing suit on and he asked, "Daddy why do you have a hairy penis?" As I promised Hope I would do I was completely honest and explained to him puberty, showed him hair under my arms, my chest, goatee, my ears and nose unfortunately.

That reminded me of two stories I told at Hope's celebration. One was when I told the kids they could no longer use potty language unless they were in the bathroom (I remember in my head at the time thinking I'm the greatest parent ever and this is really easy to do) so Reese promptly went over the to bathroom, stuck just his foot in it, and said "Daddy is a poopyhead." To this day that's still our rule because I love that he outsmarted me. The second was a time when Natedog asked what sex was. This was when Hope was alive but she could not really talk because of her tongue surgery. So I went on to explain in front of her about penises, vaginas, when two people really love each other or have too much to drink (maybe that wasn't word for word) and covered the other basics. When I was done with the uncomfortable discussion he said to me, "I thought it was just if you were a boy or a girl." Hope laughed as I just blushed before she feverishly wrote down on her note pad to always ask what they think it is first. She was the best mom ever right up to the end, and I'm now withdrawing my name for consideration in the parenting hall of fame.

I went to the kids two open houses back to back this week and while I love all 3 of their teachers (Nathan has 2 because he's in a combined first and second grade class) the open houses are so uncomfortable. They're informative but when you're as tall as me and sit for 120 minutes in those tiny chairs with tiny tables you cannot tuck your legs under you feel like a fat guy in a little coat (classic Tommy Boy line that my boys now quote since they've seen the movie (thank you Maria for the prompting) --- Nathan all the time now points to his cheek and says ..."not here, not here, but right here."). In their classrooms I felt like the tiny hand guy in the Burger King commercials holding the double cheeseburger. By the way, don't we all have a friend we remember with tiny hands or feet? It was Rambling Randy when we were growing up, he could trade shoes with any girl in our class. Hope had the longest fingers and Jennifer (I'll leave the last name out to protect the innocent) had the shortest. Why do I remember such useless information???

I was paying some bills earlier tonight and I always think it's funny that because Hope was so ultra organized last year she ordered holiday stamps and sticker return addresses from the Wise Family with pictures of all 4 of us with santa hats on in order to get a head start on Christmas cards. Of course we never got to those last year but now every bill I pay I put the Christmas return address sticker on the envelope along with a Christmas stamp. Does anyone write real letters anymore or is it just twitters, FB messages, and if you're really old school e-mails and blogs? I have to admit I'm a texting addict and I've been told by the ladies I give good text. Then they tell me how they "just want to be friends." Oh my God it's just like junior high and high school all over again. "It's not you, it's me." "I value our friendship too much to risk losing it over a relationship." "You're ugly and will never amount to anything." The last one was from Mom when I was feeling down. I'm sure you meant that to motivate me Mom, right? Right!?!

I took the boys with some friends to a minor league baseball game last night. They loved it. They each caught a foul ball (I still never have despite going to dozens of games in my lifetime --- the closest I ever got was on dollar Corona night when I was in the beer line and one landed in front of me, I saw it, focused in on it, looked closer, looked around, thought about my bible studies I had spent most of my day focusing on earlier, and then proceeded to slowly bend over to pick it up when I put my hand on top of another man's. It felt like one of those uncomfortable Bromance moments from the movie I Love You Man and somehow I missed the ball. The other second closest time was when I was getting a beer and food (notice a theme) at a Red Sox Spring training game and upon my return the older gentlemen we had made friends with told us Tony Pena hit a foul ball that bounced off my seat. I'm sneaking into their rooms tonight and stealing their balls to call them my own the lucky little punks. Of course now they'll expect to get balls every game and probably be upset if they don't get one. Oh well, for one night they both ran around like they just beat Ivan Drago in Rocky IV.

That reminds me of when Hope recovered after her second battle with cancer I had missed a lot of work and my office really stepped up to help out. As a thank you I bought a suite for a game and took the entire office. While I made the reservation they asked me why and I explained Hope's situation. I then asked if there was any way she might be able to throw out the first pitch. They agreed. As always I was running late so I was hurrying Hope to the field and down to third base where they told me to be for her throw it out. I knew she would never do it if I told her ahead of time so I didn't. Nathan was scurrying behind us at only 3 years old and as she's asking me why we're going down here instead of up to the suite she hears over the PA system, "and throwing out the first pitch tonight Hope and Nathan Wise." She grabs my hand with the meanest look she could ever muster (it was still somewhere between Mary Poppins and Mrs. Doubtfire because Hope just couldn't be mean) and says sternly with a squeeze so hard I swear her fingernails touched through the middle of my arm, "What did you do?!?" She's then hurried out to the mound and proceeds to throw out the first pitch. Nathan was so scared he refused to throw a ball. The catcher then came up, gave them both a ball, and then pulls out an autographed jersey by the entire team. Someone else in my office had called ahead, told them Hope's story, and they decided to do the jersey on their own.

The second movie I have rented since Hope passed was a horror movie which Hope and I love to watch together. Give her a Saw movie, Exorcist, or I Know What You Did Last Summer and she's good to go. By the way who doesn't love a Jennifer Love movie (Hope was a junkie when it came to watching Party of Five and Jennifer Love Hewitt used to be on my list so I only call her Jennifer Lovvvvve to this day) when she's running around in the rain in a white wife beater tank top? Now that's script writing! Anywho, I rented my first horror movie since she passed and I found myself in Blockbuster talking to Hope like I used to on my cellular while she sat in the car with the kids telling her we were going to watch the movie together tonight, just the two of us. I even made my old school popcorn instead of microwave popcorn with real kernels on the stove top like we used to every night in college. It felt like just the two of us that night and I had no regrets that I stayed in even though both boys were spending the night elsewhere. I previously blogged about all of the tough qualities someone would have to overcome to fall in love with me, and this just adds to the list. I know I'm a work in progress at best but I truly feel great and better every day right now.

Today is the hospice groundbreaking for the new building. They asked me to be the last speaker and I haven't even thought about what I'm going to say. I feel so good helping families in need like we were last November and December. I will always be indebted to the Wuesthoff Hospice staff as most of your probably read before in my fundraising letter I wrote to help them out. I just Hope I keep it together like I somehow did for Hope's celebration, I know she'll be there giving me strength. Hope's Mom, my mom, and Hope's best friend Man-Marie will all be there. I've probably donated close to $10k in company time to this project and could not feel better about despite the fact we're hurting so much for work right now. I even offered to purchase 12 flat screen TV's for the 12 individual rooms so the families can have more room and not need large TV cabinets. They did so much for us there is no dollar amount you can put on it. Think of me and send me strength at 10 AM this morning.

In my last blog I talked about how I'm going back much closer to the old me. We've been doing just that. In fact since last Friday I went out with a great friend and my neighbors to listen to live music on the river and then struggled to find real food late before finally settling in on some BBQ; Sat morning we did the sports neighborhood ball playing then had everyone back to our house for a huge pool party and lunch until late afternoon; then we went to Melbourne Beach because the waves were huge due to Hurricane Bill with some friends staying over there as Natedog spent the night, Reese went to Gran's, and I rented the horror movie; Sunday morning I cleaned out and reorganized the garage as it rained; Sunday early afternoon Reese and I borrowed John's truck and added a new 8-foot tall member to our family you just have to come by and see to believe; then late Sunday afternoon back to the beach for the rest of the night for a birthday party for one of Natedog's friends. Monday after work was hairy penis night as we swam in the pool, Tuesday was the two open houses, Wed was the baseball game, Thursday I grilled chicken and made the fancy mac and cheese before we went to Home Depot and Marble Slab for way too much ice cream, tonight we're getting the band back together (who doesn't love the first and only in my opinion Blue's Brothers movie?) with about a dozen high school friends as Glen is visiting from Alabama, Saturday morning we're doing the sports again, Saturday mid-day until late Ann-Marie and I are going through Hope's things for the first time (thanks to Tracy at the kids' school I'm back on track to get that done and do a quilt or two of her clothes), and Sunday we're going back to the beach.

I'm only telling you this because I'm back baby, just like Paul Newman at the end of Color of Money (by the way I don't think Tom Cruise gets enough credit for being such a good actor --- I know it was a stretch for him to play a cocky young guy in that movie which was so different then Top Gun, Risky Business, Jerry Maguire, Mission Impossible, A Few Good Men, Days of Thunder, Cocktail, and even the old school movies like The Outsiders and the football movie when he grew up in the mining town (it was like Varsity Blues only different in so many ways --- don't you love when people describe something like that?) Okay, maybe it's not always a stretch the roles he's played but I still think almost all of his movies are great to outstanding and even though Eyes Wide Shut was horrible thank you Nicole Kidman). Wow, my wandering thoughts are getting worse. I have to go wake up the kids for school, my hairy penis and I are going to suck the life out of every moment today and over the weekend once again. I am one lucky son-of-a-bitch with the greatest family of five here at the house (you can't forget Mocha Polka and of course our newest edition next time you visit which by the way is named Uncle Mert and when you come by I'll tell you why).