Dear Single Friends,

I feel blessed and lucky to have so many single friends because I can live vicariously through your stories.  Your stories are exciting.  I am married and therefore boring.  I can’t remember the last time I woke up on a strange floor without my pants and my recollection of the last 8 hours.  Like I said, I’m boring.

My naked stories usually involve getting peed on and a diaper change.  Come to think of it, your stories involve getting peed on and a diaper change.  However, my 2 year old does it for free which doesn’t make my story as interesting.

I’m grateful that you try to include me in spur-of-the-moment outings, but I am married and have lost all capacity for spontaneity.

Earlier today, a single friend invited me to go dancing with him tonight.  I told him “I’m busy with kid stuff” and needed more than 3 hours notice.  I say “I’m busy with kid stuff” often, but it’s true.  Really.  It’s not an excuse.

I don’t elaborate on what “kid stuff” entails and this might lead you, my single friends, into interpreting “I’m busy with kid stuff” as a brush off.  It’s not.  I don’t talk about my kids because I like that you are my friends, and I know your eyes will glaze over like a Christmas ham the first time I say the words “diaper genie”.

However, in order to clear up any misunderstanding, I’ve put together this short FAQ.

Why don’t you return my text message more promptly?

Most likely, at the time of  your message, I was explaining to my 6 year old why she shouldn’t draw on her 2 year old sister.  This actually takes quite a bit of time because one answer begets more questions like, why don’t you just wash her later?  Which leads to more questions like, why is your inconvenience in bathing my sister a second time more important than my need for self-expression?

These questions have to be answered carefully or else the questions spin out of control eventually leading to:

1. If the Jewish don’t believe in Jesus, does this mean they all go to hell?

or

2. Why do you and mommy have handcuffs?

Both of which, I’m unprepared to answer at this time.

Why can’t you nap the kids earlier/later?

You know how some people get cranky in the morning without their coffee.  Well, my kids don’t like the taste of coffee.  Also, coffee stains are a pain to get out of a sippy cup.

My youngest when she’s off schedule has been known to scream for 3 hour straight.

I’m sure you single guys have had an ex-girlfriend at some point in your life who just got pissy and would whine at you for hours.  It’s just like that if your ex shit her pants, puked down the front of her shirt and ran around the house refusing a change of clothes.

How come you don’t know if you will make it to my event even though I’ve given you a month’s notice?

At random times, my oldest daughter desperately needs me to sit quietly in the corner of her room and listen to her for hours as she tells me about the new rock she found and how she thinks it’s magical and will summon unicorns when she falls asleep.  I don’t know how I know, but if at that moment I do not sit there, she will either take up stripping or serial killing.

Yes, I would love meet you at the strip club for your bachelor party as long as I know my daughter won’t be there at some future date, trying to put herself through med school.  Yes, it’s very hypocritical of me.

What are you so busy doing that you can’t come out before 9pm?

1.  Kids smell.  The school has told us not to bring the kids to class if the smell persists.  Unfortunately, bathing is a temporary solution.  The smell comes back so we have to keep doing it.

2.  Kids are messy.  All the parenting magazines say that we should feed and clothe our kids.  Who knew?  This leads to dishes and laundry.

3.  My kids eventually get bored of watching movies so they insist I read to them, take them to parks and interact with them like the real dad’s they see in the movies.  I really should pay more attention to what they watch.  Note to self:  more movies with explosions.

Hopefully, this explains to you why I’m such a dullard and I hope to see you out on my regularly scheduled dancing night.

Sincerely,

Corin

My friend Clarice dresses in the skimpiest outfits when she goes dancing. She’s looks incredibly hot and so I’ve told her equally handsome, down-to-earth, one of the coolest guys in the world husband who dresses like he stepped out of a J Crew catalog.

Yes, I know the photos are a completely gratuitous attempt to spice up my blog with the sexy girl showing skin cliché. But hey, who am I to reinvent the wheel? All blogs need a little sex appeal and my fat ass certainly isn’t going to provide that.

(Side note: I’m eating Ben & Jerry’s ice cream while I’m writing this.)

Last night, a group of us celebrated her 23rd birthday. Clarice has had many 23rd birthday over the years and that’s just the way she likes it.

I met her dancing a few years ago through friends because the Denver alternative crowd is pretty small and eventually you meet everyone. I’m glad I did. She’s the only club person I know who knows how to lindy hop, and we have a blast swing dancing to the Cure’s Love Cats.

I’ve never heard her say a bad word about anyone..ever. She’s unassuming, bubbly, charming, funny, generous and modest and that’s why her friends universally adore her. She’s is nicest person that I know.

After dancing, she and her hubby hosted a movie night. On her birthday at 2am, she’s serving food, making sure everyone has drinks, showing people how to work the recliners and getting blankets and pillows so the people on the floor would be comfortable. All the while, everyone’s telling her to sit down and relax because we had already raided her fridge for frozen pizza and drinks as soon as we arrived. That’s what you get when you invite drunk people to your house in early hours.

Most of all, I admire her. She isn’t the type of person who defines herself by playing hostess to a bunch of inebriated guests in her family room which is roughly the size of my house, or being doting wife to a wonderful and successful husband.

She’s the type of person who defines herself by working 30 hour shifts in the Intensive Care Unit as a resident physician of one of the best hospitals in the city.

Happy birthday, Clarice! I hope your thirty-f twenty-third year will be spectacular.