Uffda: Interjection signifying exhaustion, weariness, resignation, or overwhelm, especially used by those of Norwegian descent; see 'oofda'. (The Norwegian-American slang equivalent of the Yiddish term oy.) Black: Me
When I was younger, Powerwheels was the toy that I wanted. Every Christmas I would wish for one, and every Christmas I was disappointed. I vowed that my children would have one. Twenty years later, the price shot up to 300+ dollars and I have 3 kids. Do the math.
The other day, Heather informed me that she saw one on Facebook classifieds for $100.00. Before I could say I wanted it, she said, “The money is in my purse.”
My wife gave birth to Oedipus. Yes, that means that I have sons who think that I am a complete, inept jackass. And, they always take the time to let me know. Even before either one could talk, they would do things to let me know that he is the new sheriff in town.
For those who do not know, Oedipus Rex was a king who ultimately wanted to kill his own father and marry his mother. Now, there is no Freudian sexual desire going on, but if I were to, let’s say, fall off of a bridge, I am not sure the four year old, or the one year old would not give two shits.
Why do I call them Oedipi?
…maybe it is their look of utter disgust when I walk through the door: Here I am, arriving home from a hard day’s work. Only to be greeted with the utter disappointment that I made it home from a hard day’s work. A look that says, “Oh, I forgot. You do live here, don’t you?
…maybe it is the fact that they decides to interrupt me every time I speak to my wife: Ma, Ma, Mommy, Momma, Mom, Mom, Mom. (realizing that he is being ignored) MOM, MOM, MOMMA, MOMMY, MOM! I can jump this high (barely gets off of the ground).
…maybe it is because I find one or both of them on my side of the bed at bed time: I don’t believe that it is any coincidence that my son(s) want to interrupt my wife and/or I as soon as REM sleep is reached. It is like these kids have a damn radar. Oh, I hear snoring, maybe if I cry/walk into their room, I will find a way into their bed. From there, I will kick daddy in his face and back until he decides to go on the couch. Such evil.
…maybe it is because they both give my wife the puppy dog eyes/a great big smile every time one of them wants something: My children were blessed with their mother’s eyes. Mine are, as my daughter puts it, “…all small and squinty.” Their eyes, are big, round, and sparkle in the sunlight. The boys have this ability to show their emotion through their eyes, especially when they want something that they cannot have. For example:
“No, you cannot have that cookie, that is daddy’s!”
(eyes well up)
“Okay, fine. We will tell daddy that the cookie fell on the floor.”
They best part – they always seem to leave some sort of clue that shows me what really happened. A remnant that shows me that they run things.
1. You could have made the human gestational period any length of time. You’re God. But 40 weeks? I feel like that was overkill.
2. I get that women have a nesting instinct. However, would it be too much to ask to let some of that rub off on the men? I am plotting my husband’s death right now because he is ignoring an entire “honey-do” list in favor of playing some mid-life-crisis-throw-back video game. That brings me to
3. I appreciate that you have a sense of humor, but making David my soulmate? Not cool Big Man.