Today, with the long weekend approaching I wanted to take a break from the dating advice stuff per se and tell you what happened here at El Rancho McKay this morning.
As she often does, Emily held one of her now infamous “Estrogen Fests”.
Actually, they’re not really called that. That’s just what I refer to them as. The real name for the daytime version of such an event is a “Play Date”.
You see, Emily is the queen of the local MeetUp group for stay-at-home moms with pre-schoolers desperately in need for someone to play with. (I’ll let you decide for yourself whether it’s the pre-schoolers or the moms I’m referring to there.)
For what it’s worth, the nighttime version of the “Estrogen Fest” is called “Mom’s Night In”. The kids don’t show up for those.
One night I somehow got blindsided by a “MNI” and was therefore at home when the “festivities” started. As it so happened, I was booked as a guest on a national radio show that same night. During a commercial break, I conspired with all twenty or so young mommies to shout “hello” in unison to the show’s host right after we got back on the air.
I didn’t give details of how or why there was literally a crowd of women at my house on a Thursday night. The show’s host never asked. Beautiful.
Anyway…this morning’s edition was the “PD” version, of course.
I used to get the heck out of Dodge when these things were scheduled to happen at our house. But sooner than later, I decided I actually enjoyed the idea of a bunch of young women running around my house in the morning barefoot and giggling with each other.
And yes, I’m especially fond of the fact that Emily’s the leader of them all. Well, that and the fact that they bring me coffee in my office.
Now, usually the trade off is that I get the honor and joy of working away with the din of children laughing, crying, screaming and/or demanding in the background. Sometimes a three-year-old will even wander into my office and show me a cool new toy she found, like maybe a wad of lint from the laundry room. No worries.
But this particular morning, I heard a chorus of female shrieks and little boys’ laughs that got me jumping out of my seat to see what in the world was going on.
Sure enough, of course…a lizard was in the house.
It wasn’t a particularly large or dangerous reptile, this one. So I carefully fetched him up and lightly pinched him behind his forelegs so he couldn’t jump away.
The little boys (and a few of the little girls) gathered around as I performed my now regionally-famous feat of “lizard taming”, accomplished by gently stroking underneath the creature’s throat until it closes its eyes in a blissful state of reptilian relaxation.
Assuming you haven’t corralled a particularly ornery varmint, nine times out of ten you can then open your hand and the lizard will calmly remain sitting there. It’s sort of amazing, really. Apparently, you can do something similar with lobsters.
But I digress…
Sensing that this diminutive varmint wasn’t the horrifyingly venomous harbinger of death that most of the mommies initially feared it was, they started to come closer to take a look at the “little dinosaur” the boys were now competing for a chance to hold themselves.
My four-year-old son had the lizard in the palm of his hand when it happened: A smaller little boy swatted at it, and away it leaped.
As fortune would have it, standing nearby was a mommy with a flowery sundress on.
The thing had jumped onto her left butt cheek.
“OMG…get that thing OFF of me!”, she shrieked, at the same time wheeling around and sticking her ass up at me.
“Grab it! Grab it now!”, she pleaded, attempting unsuccessfully to remain calm.
Now, I have to tell you. It warms my heart that Emily’s friends, most of whom barely know me, would recognize me as enough of a ‘big four” man to instinctively trust that I’d gladly come to their rescue in moments like this.
Nevertheless, there was only one ass in that room that I felt good about grabbing. And it didn’t have a lizard on it.
Slowly and calmly, I looked down, looked back up and said, “I believe it would be a bit ‘politically incorrect’ to grab that lizard at this very moment.”
I glanced over at Emily, who spontaneously burst into laughter.
Meanwhile, the lizard itself had returned to a state of peaceful relaxation…resting calmly on this woman’s rear end.
My playfully tomboyish wife sauntered over and grabbed the “little dinosaur”. She handed it to me and I, in turn, walked it outside (finally) and gave it to another little boy who promised to be nice to it.
Everyone sort of followed us out the door. The “Play Date” had been winding down anyway.
Finally, it was only Emily and I and the two “litluns” left. I hugged her and said, “Well, it’s not every morning THAT happens.”
She giggled. It remained unsaid, but I could tell she appreciated that I had made her feelings and emotions a priority about ten minutes earlier.
Oddly, I probably could have actually grabbed the flippin’ lizard off the woman’s dress and it wouldn’t have been a big deal. Emily and I are secure in our relationship. But I know I made the better choice, nonetheless.
I want to reassure all you guys out there of something. When you’re with the right woman every day does present its own unique “adventures”, and there’s never really a dull moment.
That goes double for when you have kids.
Don’t fear marriage and fatherhood, gentlemen. The idea of all of that may freak you out now, but when you make the right decision to be with the right woman you’ll never, ever look back.
It’s not at all like your exciting single life will devolve into day after day of tedium and drudgery. If you do this right, you’ll be in for even more of an adrenaline rush than ever before, and you’ll most certainly never again experience a minute of loneliness.
Your bachelor pad will suddenly become a home.
You’ll see the future in the faces of your very own offspring.
And assuming your self-esteem is in order you’ll be amazed and thrilled by that legacy you’ve already helped create. The very moment my oldest daughter was born was also the very moment I finally realized I was ready to be a dad.
What’s more, you’ll suddenly be in the position to be somebody’s hero on a regular basis…well, unless it involves grabbing another woman’s ass to make it happen.
In those cases being the magic “lizard tamer” and “varmint remover” will have to be enough.
Be Good,
Scot McKay
P.S. What do you think? Do you have any “adventures” of your own or other comments to share?
