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Health & Fitness

Parent Late Night, Alone

Conquistadora had plans. She doesn't waste much time after I clock in. Grocery shopping, haircuts for the boys.....rough draft ideas on how we will spend New Years Eve

Fight the Fight

I stayed up until 3 a.m. last night.

I had to; I needed time, alone, to not be pulled, yelled at, cuddled, controlled or be a full-time servant (a job with no vacation days or 401K match) under the roof of my modest home.

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My eyes were weary from watching mixed martial arts fighting on streaming video and later, video blogs on You Tube by the always entertaining presdient of the Ultimate Fighting Championship, Dana White. He never lets me, guys, Dads, hormone-popping frat boys, meathead, practicionors of the art of combat, down.

I get hooked like that: one blasting fight leads to another. The fights are lightening quick, only three 5-minute rounds.

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I watched and watched, I clicked link after link. 10 p.m., 12 a.m.. At 2:30 I cursed at myself knowing I would be the Walking Dead, pun intended show fans, the next day.

I knew I would pay. And I did. But first I lumbered up to bed and rolled in it like an overweight, retired ninja, trying not to make the bed creak or create a sunken tide of the matress, the movement of which would cause Conquistadora to awaken.

At 8:30 a.m., I was called to duty by G Frenzy who emphatically, joyously told me we had......"Dad, we have donuts! You have to see! There are some with sprinkles! I ate, you know, three aleady, one with chocolate on the bottom!"

Conquistadora had plans. She doesn't waste much time after I clock in. Grocery shopping, haircuts for the boys, Thanksgiving prep, an execution plan for Christmas week, rough draft ideas on how we will spend New Years Eve and where the college graduation party would be held for our 4-year old.

A day in the life. A life in the life.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Wait, yes I would. At this moment I could be writing my memoir or watching college football while laid supremely supine on the kid-beaten couch, or in a deep sleep in bed, or watching informercials for a vacuum that cuts hair while eating 11 or so donuts chased by coffee, or eating a few baskets of spice buffalo chicken wings and surfing the net at Buffalo Wild Wings on 820 Commons Drive in Geneva.

But, I am not. But, I can't. I am trapped in Domesticada.

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