Dig Dug Toot.

Picking your nose; scratching the inside of your ear; digging for something stuck in your teeth; letting one rip; belching out a loud one. We're all guilty of doing it. Sometimes, we're completely unaware that we're doing it. You're just going about your day when you let out a little toot and level the crowd of people walking behind you.

For a long time, I was a fan of picking my nose while I drove my car. This was especially true when I would drive home from work late at night. The next time you're out and about at night, take a second to look at the cars coming your way. Can't see the driver because the headlights are blinding you? Well, that's the perfect situation to pick one out that's been bugging you. But like I said at the beginning of this paragraph, I was a fan. This all ended the night I was driving home and "dug" a little too deep. 

Before I knew it, my finger was covered in blood. It's a pretty big shock when you're doing 45mph down the side streets of your town. I couldn't believe this was happening as I reached into my glove box and searched for napkins to stop the flood of crimson coming out of my nose. Thankfully, I made it home without a drop on my clothes nor the seats of my car. As I'm staring into my reflection, with toilet paper plugging my nose, I vowed to stop doing it. I also promised myself to make an effort to become aware of the things I was doing.

See, up until the nosebleed happened, I wasn't really aware that I was picking my nose. It had become so habitual, that I didn't think twice about it. Then I had a conversation with a friend who claimed to do the same thing. We had just started doing things without realizing that maybe we should keep it to ourselves. He came clean that his big thing was farting in the bar. Who could blame him, though? You drink enough beer and you're bound to let out some gas. For me, it's burping while I'm there. A few times, I had belched out some loud ones and when I realized I was doing it, I would ask people if they heard it and I apologized. Another friend had become so used to my burping that he could pick out when it was me just by the smell. Gross, I know.

But, nothing beats going to the local bar on Thanksgiving night. I heard my bartender friend tell me it was the worst smelling night of the year. Not remembering what he said, I walked into the bar two Thanksgivings ago; he was totally right. It was absolutely rank in that place. It seems that everyone was letting out a fart here and there and thought no one would notice. That might be true when you're there on a normal night, but not when everyone you're surrounded by is doing the same exact thing. Had there been flowers in the place, you'd probably see them cry.

So, what keeps us doing this? Most of us were brought up better than that. I know my mom would hit me if she saw me burping in public. I don't even want to think of what she would do if she ever knew I picked my nose in front of others. But I guess that's what you deal with when you have a son. Are girls a different story? Everyone knows they're the "gentler gender" and they half expect guys to be gross. But do they burp in the middle of a crowd? Are they tearing it up with their farts and blaming guys? I certainly hope not and if you're a girl reading this, please don't shatter that thought for me. We all know girls are crazy, but if you add any of the bad habits discussed in this post, I might never take a girlfriend.

Easy There, Kid.

Today, I was eating my lunch when I watched a father and son head for the exit after they had finished their meal. The son following close behind his father as he opened the door and stepped out. The dad had the remainder of their meal in one hand and held the door open with the other. The kid,  clutching a child's cup with straw, walked out underneath his father's arm, took a couple of steps, and waited for his father. It was at that point that I was reminded that I couldn't wait to be a dad.

I always knew I wanted to have kids and have been looking forward to it since my early 20's. Don't think for a second that I was out there trying to become one, though. If there's one thing I know for certain it's that I am not ready to be one just yet. I'm only 27 and as most of the people I work with keep reminding me, "oh you're only a kid." For that, I am completely grateful.

There is no way that I'm financially stable at this point in my life. I'm not sure how I'd fair with having to support a child. The choices I've made for myself have been less than spectacular for it. Then I remember how an acquaintance had shared the story of when his son was born. 

He looked down at him, laying in the hospital nursery, and questioned how he would ever support this child. Within the blink of an eye, he told me about how at that moment he realized he would do absolutely everything he could for his son. He even called himself a dummy and realized that he would no longer be living for himself.

I look back at that story and ask myself if I would be like that? I try to come up with excuses that I'm not ready and that I already live a selfless life. I'm sure if you ask my friends, some of them can tell you stories of how I thought of others before myself. But, that's not the answer I come to.

No matter how many times I ask myself and scenarios I run in my head, I always come to one conclusion. It will all change when my kid arrives. No matter what, everything I know and how I think will be turned upside down once I know there is a part of me that is living in this world and I have to do absolutely everything I can to love and care for them. That's what I look forward to most. It will go far deeper than just holding a door open. It won't stop until my last dying breathe.

But first, I need to find the mom.