Allow me to introduce myself....

My name is Kyle. Pretty simple enough...not enough syllables to really gain interest from anybody in a crowded room..but hey, I live with it. I live in a just as simple enough city in Southeast, Georgia where as a teenager...the only activities were to find an isolated dirt road to set off fire works...go frog gigging...the occasional smoke fest behind the Wal-Mart or go downtown and hope to god there was a decent punk band/acoustic act playing in one the coffee shops. Of course, at that time in my youth...the only real thing on my mind was trying to find a decent piece of ....wait, I'm getting off track..just a tad.

 I'm 32 years old now, a happily married man and proud father of the apocalyptic duo known as my daughter Mary(3 years old) and my son Logan(14 months.)....and oh yea, I've recently found myself unemployed for the first time since I was 15 years old.

I'm a sloppy teenage 32 year old who still buys every Madden game, the midnight release of course..and enjoys throwing my socks, shirts, pants and anything else I can take off my body in a big pile of mush in my bedroom. I have my hobbies, I play the drums, collect sports cars..I am a football fanatic, and yes..that means Fantasy Football as well..I sometimes find my cell phone in places I don't remember putting it...I still think that the dish washer is for washing dishes..and for me to wash the dishes and put them in the dish washer..and I DVR every episode of Workaholics, The League and South Park. I don't do the laundry correctly, EVER! I honestly think..browns, blacks...greys....you know..should be washed with reds and pinks..I mean..really..who gives a shit, right? Wrong!.....I'll tell you who...

My wife, Heather, is an OCD neat freak who enjoys the smell of bleach and is, in my honest opinion, a pyromaniac but is also the most outstanding mother I've ever known. She actually decided to accept my proposal five years ago and get hitched to this mess of a man. It's worked out so far...I don't know how..but it has. She's smart, beautiful, wise and of course...absolutely insane. Not just because she married this guy, but at times..I think I piss her off to the point where she just might hack off a finger one day...because I'm always sticking that one finger in the peanut butter jar. By the way, I'm already missing one finger from a a very chaotic experience with an exercise bike in my youth...so any more fingers getting slashed off may consist of me losing my Madden privileges..for life.We fight like any other couple, but we usually laugh when we do it....actually I should rephrase that..I usually laugh...and she usually doesn't....and then I start cleaning hysterically to see if that will make it better...which in case if you're wondering.....it doesn't.

Life's great though, in all seriousness..my marriage couldn't be happier. I love Heather..and I love my two kids..and I would do anything to put a smile on their face...and they would do anything to make sure I lose my shit every 15-20 minutes...that's a fact.

My beautiful daughter Mary has the vocabulary of a drunken sailor, which for the longest time..I thought was just a phase..and considered it partially cute at times. Nothing like your three year old losing at "Angry Birds"..and hear her telling the game "You stupid Tard-Ass!" But now, I have to go into daddy mode...try my hardest not to laugh..and set it straight for her.....because she's now got other more extreme phrases that she actually uses out in public....and I usually push her into another aisle and pretend she's not mine. -- I kid!!....I just politely ask her...with tears in my eyes.....wait until we get into the car honey.....I love her to death, she is my joy. And she wants to drive me crazy..it's what three year olds do.

My awesome son Logan.....well, the moment he started walking...AT EIGHT MONTHS!!!!! I was constantly pushing him back down and saying "Not just yet...TOO SOON!" Well now, he's climbing..and running...mostly into walls....he's recently Die-Harded himself out of the crib as if he were Bruce Willis...a straight 4 1/2 foot drop on the ground...he's....special. And I love him just the same...but can't find a helmet that fits his bruised head. He eats everything in his path and the cats fear him as if he were the actually physical form of some feline plague.

And now..I find myself...unemployed and full time dad. And this starts my adventure.

I'm starting to think that the kids are really.....really...trying to make me go completely insane. Every 15 minutes during this delightful Friday...I've heard my kids slap the TV....kick the fridge....one even tried climbing in the oven today....I've heard several crashes of glass and even a tiny explosion and the sound of a body thud somewhere in the kitchen. But with every moment I hear something out the ordinary...no evidence or trace of evil doing can be found..the kids look at me in a guilty awkward way....but I can't find anything that would suggest that something is wrong...besides one of them trying to climb in the oven that is. I screamed at one time waiting to see their response...one laughed..the other tried to bite me...so I stopped that..almost immediately. 

While trying to bathe today...the 10 minutes of what I thought would be alone, happy silent time for me..since, you know..one was sleeping and the other was playing with toys in Heather's office..I actually heard the door creak, little feet sneaking in and then one of them ripped the shower curtain back to...get this....actually spray me with a cold water sprayer......oh dear GOD...it scared me so bad I slipped and hit my head on a whole nest of rubber duckies.

 I TRIED eating dinner after they were fed, but that didn't work out well, because apparently Logan's stomach is a bottomless pit...but before he could get his little "Mr. Grabby" hands on my food...no worries, my daughter already had plans to throw it on the floor and dance in it..as if my food was considered a sacrifice to my floor..at one point I tried throwing toys in different rooms, just so I could sneak away for a cigarette...boy did that fail, they brought the toys back to me as if it was a game of fetch.

Being a parent is special..because even after all of that...they come up to me and say 'I Love you Daddy!"..and then my heart melts and say I love you too little ones......and now, they're in bed..I can honestly say, the beer in my hand...is the best beer I've ever tasted..because at times, I think it might actually be my last..I sense tomorrow having to deal with an Anvil, a rope...and my son chewing through the rope..but I know that my wife will be there to push me out of that anvil's way and somehow save the day for me..once again with her wise words of parenting advice and say "It could be worse, we could've had twins...." Love you kids, love you wife, love my life...love the adventure.

Well, my house is officially a toilet papered crime scene, neither of the kids are taking well to the interrogation....but if there's one thing that CSI taught me, if the stories don't match up..one of them is not telling the truth, my daughter says "I was just playing with my littlest pet shops"--Yea, yea...likely story...and you Logan, what were you doing.....never mind, you forgot to get rid of the evidence....now get the toilet paper out of your mouth and get your chubby butt in that tub.