Death To Dadbod (3/29/2019)

Danial Hooper Death to Dadbod, No Filter Fitness

The house is quiet.

Almost too quiet.

Joanie (my wife) is off to run errands and pick up the twin from dance practice. She’s probably going to come back with a new kitten, if history is any inclination. We used to have 3 kids and 3 cats. Now we have 4 kids… how’s your math?

She trusted me home alone with our newborn. This isn’t me being the “dad who babysits.” But she’s really going out on a limb to leave me home alone with our infant son for more than 12 minutes. God only knows what I might get us into. Maybe we’ll start watching Jean Claude Van Damme movies. Or Varsity Blues. Or maybe we can pick up knifesmithing like Pat. The baby is old enough to scratch his eyes, surely he’s old enough to wield a weapon.

Just kidding. I’m going to workout. Thanks to Outside the Box, I have oodles of the best 30 minute workouts. 

It’s been a long day at the office and I’m home later than expected. The baby and I are going to get some bro-time while I workout in his bedroom. He’ll lay in the crib, I’ll attempt to perform more than 5 consecutive reps before checking to make sure he’s still breathing. #NervousDad 

His little, adorable, loose neck is going to be the reason I’m bald before I’m 40. That, or two beautiful daughters who love the attention of boys.

Aran looks at me with a blank expression to signify his lack of anger by my presence. I’m one boob away from him loving me. I place a few toys in the crib 6 inches beside his face. The weights are already in here. He stares at the silly lion and friendly whale with his lips pursed in an O shape.

That means he’s pooping.

This means I have less than 30 minutes. Fortunately, everything is scalable. So, I can turn my 30-minute workout into a 15-minute workout. Home Workout Efficiency, yo.

First off, I can’t let my son lay in his own dookie. Second, even if I could, he’s going to cry. That’ll kill my vibe.

I blast through the warm up as fast as possible. I follow Pat’s instructions to a T. Only I’m also listening to a newborn fart like a 56-year-old truck driver.

Let’s get into it, shall we?

 

Workout:

“Countdown to Tears”

20 DB Front-rack Split Squats (10 each leg)

20 DB Hang Power Cleans

Rest 2 min.

3 Rounds

 

My Scaling

25 lb DBs.

*Also, my garage gym is actually my baby’s room. Solid chance I have to stop for longer than 2 minutes, just to ensure he’s still breathing and/or simply to stare at his cuteness.

 

3… 2… 1… Go!

 

00:35 – Aran grunts while I’m midway through the split squats. Which are basically stationary lunges. Lunges are a weakness of mine, as is every other exercise movement.

01:20 – DB Hang Power Cleans. Or, as I like to call then, CrossFit Curls. My lungs are on fire. How is that possible when I haven’t moved more than 3 feet in any direction?

2:15 – 25 lbs is perfect for this workout. Almost, too perfect. Even when I’m tired, I don’t have to drop the weights, which means I’m consistently burying myself into a sweaty grave. I finish the reps.

2:18 – I loom over the baby. He’s trying to eat his mittened-hand. It appears he’s finished pooping.

2:25 – A massive man fart escapes from my son. Never mind.

4:15 – Each split squat hurts. Is this what it feels like to have muscles in your legs? Is this how it feels to be a Brute Strength Athlete? I bet my butt looks totally good right meow.

4:25 – My cat, Ghost, comes in the room. He’s the head honcho of the kittens. He loves his papa, and loves his little brother. Apparently, he’s here to find out why the both of us smell like aged kitty litter.

4:38 – He’s staring at me. Each Hang Power Clean is like inches away from his furry face. They say curiosity is what killed the cat.

4:45 – 5 reps to go, and I have to stop. Ghost has places his kitty-claws into my leg and wants to me to pet him. If you have a cat, you know, it’s times like this when you have to take a moment and enjoy being loved by your feline-demon.

5:08 – his claws sink into my flesh before he runs away. The moment I try to pet him, he makes me bleed and escapes.

5:29 – I’m not crying, you’re crying!

5:49 – CrossFit Curls finished and Aran is stirring. He’s losing patience with his daddy. His daddy is losing body weight and self-esteem. It’s hard to feel too good about yourself when your cat just made you cry.

6:32 – my wife texts me and asks if Aran is okay. I decide to lecture her over text message. That always goes well. But hey, I have feelings too.

7:01 – I apologize.

7:49 – My goal was to NOT drop the DBs in the middle of each movement. But these split squats are testing me. Aran is grunting. That’s his way of saying he needs a new diaper and a full booby. This ain’t exactly the best home gym, is it?

8:45 – Hang. Power. Clean. CrossFit Curls. My heart is racing. It’s like when Aran was born and the nurse told me I could change his diaper. Only I had no idea how and he weighed less than some of my novels. Aran screams encouragement.

9:27 – Must. Look. At. Baby. He’s okay. Just tired of sitting in his own filth. I can’t blame him, I feel the same way.

9:37 – My final 5 reps are done while Ghost stars at me from the doorway. His judgmental eyes can’t slow me down. Fortunately, Aran has no tears. Just an odor. It smells like sweet bologna mixed with meatloaf.

9:38 – I’m done!

9:42 – Tears come. Someone doesn’t like having a dirty diaper. Oh, and Aran is sad too.

 

Check back next week for another episode of Death to Dadbod!

Word Wizard/Lead Brewmaster/First Contact Seeker
I’m the family lab rat, if your family is a group of mad scientists. I mask my weaknesses by being funny and telling stories. Basically, I write posts for the blog, type up some emails, help where asked, and cry when Taz makes us run. My novels are available on Amazon. Something’s got to pay my daughters’ dance fees. I have four kids, three cats, and one wife. I love all of them dearly.