Checking up on the Kept Dad

My birthday is coming up in a few days, so my wife gave me the gift of making me an appointment for a prostate exam. I know, I'm a lucky man to have such a thoughtful wife. I can't wait for Christmas, when she'll probably schedule me for a root canal. Of course, I'm already a couple of years delinquent in getting my exhaust system checked out, so if she hadn't made the appointment, I probably would have put it off for another year or twelve, but can you blame me? It's a prostate exam!

My former doctor closed her practice, so this was the first time I had seen my new doctor. It was like an awkward first date as we exchanged pleasantries and made small talk, all the while skirting the reason for my visit. There just isn't an elegant way to segue from "so how's your wife doing" to "drop 'em and spread 'em." As we spoke, I surreptitiously glanced at his hands, trying to evaluate the size of his fingers. Sensing my nervousness, he said that I could get the exam on my next visit, but that would mean I had made a $20.00 co-pay just to chat up my doctor. As my wife would tell you, I am notoriously frugal (actually she would probably say I am an incredible cheapskate). The sanctity of my prostate wasn't worth twenty bucks. Might as well get it over with. As he snapped on the gloves and I bent over the exam table, I began to have second thoughts. Be gentle, Doc!

I'll spare you the details. Ladies, you have your annual, we over-40 guys have our anal-ual. I'm not sure which is more embarrassing and uncomfortable. We won't ask you about yours if you don't ask us about ours. It was pretty quick and not exactly painful, so much as discomforting, like pooping in reverse, if you can imagine such a thing. Afterwards I quickly made the walk of shame out of the office to my car. In case you were wondering, everything checked out fine. I have to get going now. My wife is turning 40 next month, so I need to get her the perfect gift...a mammogram.

The Prodigal Dad

Did you miss me, all (both?) of my readers? Sorry I haven't posted in a while but I was on a secret mission for the KDB (Kept Dad Bureau). I could tell you what I was doing but then I'd have to kill you...by boring you to death with the details.

My long-time readers (i.e. my immediate family and close friends) will notice that I have changed the title of my blog from The Kept Dad Blog-Ject to the Kept Dad Chronicles. I think the old title was a little too dry and pedantic. It sounded like the name of a thesis project for my Masters Degree in Slacker Studies. The Kept Dad Chronicles, on the other hand, sounds like the title of an adventure story, or at least a Lifetime Channel mini-series...Hmm...Who would play the my role of the Kept Dad? My salt-and-pepper hair and dark eyes suggest George Clooney, but my spindly arms, sunken chest, bulbous nose, beetle brows and clump of unruly hair cries out for the guy who played Screech on Saved by the Bell.

Well, autumn is in full swing. It's one of my favorite times of the year. Thanksgiving is approaching, and Halloween has passed, although I must confess I really don't get the point of running around pretending to be something you're not, and expecting to be rewarded for it. But enough about the election, let's get back to Halloween. This was the first Halloween that my oldest son didn't go trick-or-treating. He's fourteen, so he's at that age where even the lure of free candy isn't enough of an incentive to wear a silly costume and canvass the neighborhood with kids half his age. Besides, he isn't a candy addict. He could easily make his Halloween haul last until the next Halloween if it wasn't being constantly poached by his parents, unlike his 9 year old brother, who would still be in a diabetic coma if we didn't take his candy from him and ration it out. While it may be a rite of passage for my oldest boy, it's a little traumatic for me, because now that's one less kid I can sneak candy from. How am I supposed to get my recommended daily allowance of nougat and caramel, with only two candy stashes to steal from? My 4 year old is so young he didn't go to many houses, and only came back with half a bag of treats, and my 9 year old is so possessive of his candy trove, he'll probably notice any missing peanut butter cups. He tried to hide his candy under his bed, but we discovered his hoard and poured it in the family candy bowl. Yes, we're Candy Socialists, redistributing the fruits of our kids' Halloween labors to be enjoyed by the entire family (particularly their sweet-toothed father). 

That's all for now. Today is Veterans Day, so thank you to all the veterans out there. While I myself have never served in the armed forces, I do have some war stories to tell. Stay tuned, and I'll share some more of them with you.