Cause you haven’t touched a lick of it
STICKING TOGETHER
Gripping and grabbing
With glistening gunk
Coating our fingers
In layers of funk
Dripping your excess
Inside the fridge
Crust-over-leakage
On half-screwed lids
Mustard, ketchup, steak sauce
And dressing
Doors open wide
While kids are assessing
Small hands work hard
When we open containers
So, stick with us, Dad—
No one likes a complainer
ICE CREAM SCREAMS
I scream
You scream
We all scream
For ice cream
But Dad screams the loudest
When he’s cleaning it
Off his new teak chairs
THIS ISN’T A RESTAURANT
You order French fries
You order a chocolate shake
You order another milk
And a grilled cheese
But there’s no menu
No chef
No waiter
And no maître d’
So finish your meatloaf
Get your own milk
And take three bites
Of your broccoli
You’re not in a restaurant
You don’t have broken knees
And even worse—
You didn’t say please
CHAPTER 7:
STOP & SMELL THE… UH-OH
No matter what you see, you’ll never see it coming. Don’t say we didn’t warn you. These are poems about life’s little surprises. They usually flow downhill, toward Dad.
That’s not a dirty diaper—that’s the smell of duty.
Stark Raving Dad (Axiom)
MOM’S HOME
Mom’s home! Mom’s home!
Who’s more excited
Kids, dog, or Dad?
Mom’s home! Mom’s home!
Her clean, tidy house
Now trashed and sad
Mom’s home! Mom’s home!
Stains on the carpet
Don’t look so bad
Mom’s home! Mom’s home!
Her loving eyes glitter
Hiding the mad
Mom’s home! Mom’s home!
And Dad just realized—
He shouldn’t be glad
THE DISTANT GIGGLE
A giggle together
Can brighten the world
Warming my heart, my spirit unfurled
But giggles in the distance
When I’m not around
Are rarely the same, comforting sound
What could be joyful
Behind those closed doors?
I doubt it will take me
To happier shores
I’m suddenly dreading
All the stickers and glue
My coveted phone, no longer in view
STICKY-BROWN STAINS
Screams
Blasphemy
Worse
Gnashing
Snarling
Curse
Eyes on fire
Reaching into dryer
And finding
Warm, fresh horror
Victims of a Tootsie Roll
DEEP IN THE CUSHIONS
On the arm of the couch
Cheese-dust fingerprints
Beyond a trail of animal-cracker crumbs
Craisins
Across the dimpled seat
Pretzel pieces
Reaching deep into the cushions—Something wet
HIDDEN EVIDENCE
Behind your dresser is a darkened lair
A crime scene soiled in twisted pairs
Mom and Dad so unaware
Gasping now at underwear
A sour grimace, noting the smell
It did seem sudden—
That you were potty-trained so well
WHY ARE WE LATE?
Why are we late?
You always ask
Is it because we can’t find our shoes?
Why are we late?
You always wonder
Is it because we’re missing our jacket?
Why are we late?
You always moan
Is it because we forgot our lunch?
Why are we late?
You always fume
Is it because we have to go pee?
Why are we late?
You always whine
Well, I’ll tell you, Dad—
It’s because school starts too early
BRIGHT-EYED & FLUFFY
Oh-so-adorable, bright-eyed and fluffy
We’ve got to have
This cute little puppy
The kids will love him
Won’t it be great?
This wagging joy, the perfect playmate
A trusty companion you just can’t deny
So I force a smile and swallow my reply
To me, it sounds like more poop
And Dad’s the one—
Left holding the scoop
CAR SEAT CLEANING
What hides in the creases?
What waits in the folds?
What sticks on the straps?
What lurks in the holes?
What horror could this be
Coating the buckles?
What filth have I found
Smeared on my knuckles?
What evil is looming
The more I clean deep?
What kind of parent
Locks a kid into this seat?
THE UNFLUSHED HAIKU
In the bowl, I float
Serene upon the water
Why don’t you flush me?
CHAPTER 8:
STILL STANDING! LIKE THE WALKING DEAD
If you’ve made it this far… congratulations! You may survive parenthood, after all. These are poems about Dad’s little triumphs and not-total-failures. Like the quiet thrill of picking up dog poop—far away from screaming kids.
Sometimes, the best way to clean a room—is to shut the door.
Stark Raving Dad (Dictum)
YELLING FOR FUN
Everybody loves to yell
It lets out stress
It gets you pumped
It channels your emotion
It hits a high note
It demands a response
And it gets the best attention
When Dad’s on a conference call
MY BEST FRIEND
So still
So quiet
So peaceful
Find companionship in his light
Find calm in his control
Find comfort in his glow
His charm is my best friend
His beauty comes from within
His name is Television
Does he challenge minds? No.
He channels mercy
SNARFLING IN THE LIVING ROOM
What’s in that corner
Where there shouldn’t be food?
Licking, slobbering, snarfling
Yet, quietly subdued
Slumped on the couch, it’s only just me
A chance to relax and watch some TV
Ignoring this mystery can’t be so wrong
Whatever it is, it will soon be gone
So eat up, my furry friend
And enjoy my reticence
Just make sure—
You erase all the kids’ evidence
THE DELICATE DROP-OFF
Sometimes…
You just need a break
Sometimes…
You just want a moment
Sometimes…
You just seek an escape
Sometimes…
You covertly drop the kid at daycare
With a loaded diaper
THE MAGIC STRIP
Oh, the excitement. The joy.
The anticipation.
The fun. The wonder. The elation.
This plastic strip sensation
Fulfilling every expectation
Enchanted magic it yields
Just after peeled
From screaming and crying
To perfectly healed
Halting the pain
Ending the woe
Who would believe
You’re ready to go
Forgetting all that panic you made
Until the next time…
You need a Band-Aid
MEETING THE PEDIATRICIAN
Before the first appointment
We met your new pediatrician
For a second time
A quiet nod
A knowing smile
With nothing said
Here again—
Removing stitches
From your head
A PIRANHA WITH A HORN
I said no to a cat
I said no to a dog
I said no to a hamster
I said no to a frog
But a piranha with a horn?
That’s a possible pet
And as a selfless dad
I say, why not? Let’s check
DAD’S QUIET TIME
How to find quiet time
Without the guilt
No reproachful stares
Making resolve wilt
I’m walking the dog
It has to be done
And with a little silence
It’s almost fun
I can hear myself think
As I walk this loop
A smile on my face
As I pick up poop
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My deepest thanks to all my family and friends who became guinea pigs for my eccentric “pop poetry,” and who were gracious enough to give gentle criticism and guidance. I also have to thank Jordana Tusman, Mark Gottlieb, and all the people at Running Press who actually gave the rantings of a frazzled dad their belief and effort. Most especially, I have to thank my wife, Lorna, who sat through countless revisions and readings of “poems” (some good, some remarkably awful). Without her support, you probably wouldn’t be reading this. She also spent countless hours in the sweaty, dusty, thousand-degree attic, digging out our kids’ “masterpieces.” Lorna, your tireless help and constant belief has meant the world to me.
Finally, I want to thank my two boys, Jordan and Kylan. Obviously, without you, none of this would have been possible. I’m sure you know all my ravings are just that—ravings. I love you very much.
Stark Raving Dad Page 3
