Throughout our youth and into adulthood, many of us are searching for our identity.
Who are we?
Where do we belong?
What is my purpose?
In the perfect world, our first fifteen to twenty years should nurture us with that strong foundation built on faith, family and friends. Throw in a decent education, a couple fights at the playground and that first kiss behind the garage and the average person is ready to conquer their destiny.
I stopped searching for my place when I became a dad. Life should focus on parenting at the first sight of that squirmy loud alien. When the nurse hastily cleans a shit ton of slimy stuff off your baby and hands you that bundle… you can stop looking for your place in life.
I was reminded of my place in life over the weekend. I guess you can say it was kind of a shitty Saturday afternoon.
“Dad….!”
“Hey Dad……?”
I had the vacuum cleaner going and didn’t hear the first round of “dad” calls.
The next round was louder and followed by ….
“The poop isn’t going down in the bathroom!”
Mother fucking, fuck, fuck!
As I’m grabbing the plunger and the bucket, I get whacked with another Shepkid telling me the other crapper is clogged.
You got to be shitting me?!?!?!
How does this happen?
I guess I didn’t spend enough time teaching these little bundles of joy how to wipe their own butts.
Many of you Chalkheads have seen my voluptuous thick Shepley booty. The Shepkids have all been blessed with an exceptionally strong can like their Oldman.
I’m not bullshitting you when I tell you that I can clean my backside with eight to ten squares. Maybe I need a dozen, if I have both a bratwurst and a polish at the Sox game.
These little fuckers use yards of toilet paper to create a pillow of protection between their fingers and their anus.
Any given weekend when all three are hanging in the Divorced Dad District, I’m changing toilet paper rolls at least twice.
If I have failed my children in any way…
…it will be that I didn’t teach them proper toilet paper usage.
There I was Saturday afternoon, minutes away from finishing the weekly chores and errands. Maybe, just maybe I can enjoy a quick can of beer on the balcony before I tackle the rest of the day daddying.
Nope…. I’m unclogging enough T.P. to reach from Chicago to Milwaukee out of my crappers.
I mean I JUST cleaned those two fucking toilets ten minutes prior to the clogging's.
I won’t even mention the size of the craps these little monsters produce! I make them drink water all the time. I tell them it’s good for digesting food and they still make crap the size of a toddler's forearm.
Is that my purpose in life?
Have I found my place?
Should I stop looking?
I had that beer early Saturday afternoon, but I couldn’t smell the gorgeous fragrance of hops. I couldn’t smell it because I smelled like Pine-sol!
I’m pretty sure that the Shepkids will turn out to be good people someday. Like everyone, they’ll search for their place in life. I just hope when they get there… they know how to wipe their own ass’s.
When the day comes when they have their first apartment, I’m going to buy them a toilet plunger and a twelve pack of Charmin Ultra Bold.
Today is Memorial Day… many unselfish men and women died so I can raise the Shepkids. Those brave souls never returned home to a clogged toilet. Not to make it sound trivial, but it is all the little things in life that we have because of the freedom the American Soldier and Sailor died for.
Give thanks for the freedom to own a toilet plunger and hearing a child scream…
“Dad!!!”
Let’s finish the month of May with astonishing joy and love.
