Doug Wanoy's Confessions: Part I

Lauren Barrett

It’s no secret that Doug Wanoy’s usual rambunctious chatter on the Twitterverse (X) has been relatively quiet after the untimely passing of his beautiful wife of 38 years. But since the Bauer/Wanoy/Barrett clan have never been ones to shy away from inappropriate, callous, dark humor in the face of sadness, I feared something was amiss. 

So much like a Dean Koontz novel, I decided to get to the bottom of the mystery behind Doug’s radio silence. 

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Doug’s Last Interactions on Twitter

Before the fateful day of August 19, Doug seemed to be on his Are Hillary and Trump Related? kick which seemed to spawn from two ongoing feuds between Dad and Son and Dad and Daughter over the offspring and the offspring’s fiance respectfully voting for Trump and refusing to see the Barbie movie. 

At 7:20 PM on August 18 my dad was firing off a Hillary picture with a single keystroke while my mom was simultaneously having a stroke. Both strokes would end lives. My mom’s literally. My dad’s metaphorically. 

Doug Wanoy was dead. Or so we thought…

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Doug Is Resurrected

Just like how the Rat Pack, featuring Dean Martin, was resurrected in the 1960s, Doug Wanoy, too, resurrected out of the shadows of darkness and the depths of despair with a single tweet on November 9. 

Doug and his daughter, me, were attending a Doobie Brothers and Eagles concert which Kyle and I (mainly Kyle using promo code UNTOLD for $20 off with Gametime) purchased for Doug’s birthday back in July for my dad and mom. Womp Womp. 

Anyway…on a dark, deserted high, way up section of the arena Doug decided to snap a picture of us showing off our awesome seats…

Up ahead in the distance, we saw a shimmering light…which turned out to be the Doobie Brothers playing. Doug snapped another picture. 

He posted both to Twitter.

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I don’t know much about “numbers” on Twitter but it seemed like Doug’s “fans” were happy to have him back and joking again. 

So I asked him, “Dad, will you ever start Tweeting again?” 

“Yes, but first…these are my confessions…”

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Confessions: Part I

Having grown up Catholic, Doug is no stranger to confession. He’s repented better than anyone who’s had one too many Jimmy Dean’s sausage sandwiches before a 5 hour flight. 

Atoning for his sins was no harder for Doug than the robbed man behind the curtain was when… *Never mind…I cannot bring myself to make a Catholic joke or my mom will haunt me from her grave.* #catholic4lyfe

Nevertheless, Doug was so full of guilt for some incidents he did while my mom was alive that he never told a soul. And the guilt was beginning to weigh on him. 

So right here, right now, he would like to make a public confession and by doing that, maybe, he’ll be ready to start Tweeting again. 

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CONFESSION 1: THE COFFEE STAIN ​

In 2017 my parents bought a house in North Carolina to be closer to Yours Truly. What you need to know about this house is that overnight it transformed into a White Girl’s  Pinterest board on steroids. The house became my mom and my mom became the house. It was her passion project. 

By the time 2023 rolled it around it was full of DIY projects, knickknacks, decorations bought and returned a million times, and adornments. It was, for the most part, immaculate. 

There was only one problem. My dad lived in it. 

Now, I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but my mom was perhaps a little uptight about the house at times. I also don’t want to speak ill of the living, but my dad was perhaps a little careless with the house at times. 

On one particular summer day when my mom wasn’t home, my dad was looking at his phone, most likely laughing at himself for being so witty with a Tweet he composed, in his left hand. In his right hand was a coffee. 

In the section between the kitchen and living room is a handcrafted, specially made dining room table that we never dined at once, but my mom treated as if it was her third born child which she should have named the Deaning Room Table. 

Anyway, Doug, in all his glory, walked right into the chair, nicked it, and watched as the coffee spilled in slow motion, like one of those Bounty commercials, all over one of the chairs. It started at the top and slowly seeped down into the seat of the chair.

Unlike Bounty, my dad was not a quicker-picker upper and instead stared in shock at the coffee mess. He took a deep breath, assessed the situation, and immediately started to take a page out of the Bauer Boy Handbook: How to Best Avoid Telling the Truth and Accepting Blame. 

Google told him to blot it with a damp cloth. Everything seemed to be going well until it dried. Left on the chair was an, albeit much lighter, obvious coffee stain. As soon as my mom found out, he was going to be deader than James Dean.

But Doug could not be deterred. He devoted the next month to strategically positioning the chair, so every time my mom walked into a room she would be looking at the back of the chair and, thus, not see the stain.

Enter in the front door - the chair would be rearranged to be on the north side of the table, so her eyes would see the back of it. . 

Sunlight streaming in from the sun room from the south end - the chair’s back would be to the rays, so the light wouldn’t illuminate the stain. 

Walking out of her room - the chair would be at the head of the east end of the table. 

For weeks Doug had to anticipate my mom’s every move. He was exhausted to say the least. 

Finally he declared to himself, “This is ridiculous. I cannot keep doing this.” 

Any sane person would come clean, but this was Doug we were speaking of. Instead he concocted an elaborate scheme to air the stain to the world without accepting any of the blame. 

He had it all down to a science. 

Step 1: Watch my son. 
Step 2: Get my mom out of the house. 
Step 3: Respill the coffee. 
Step 4: Call my mom immediately and tell her that my son accidentally spilled the coffee on the chair. 
Step 5: Ask her how to get the coffee out.
Step 6: Look like a devoted, loving husband who heroically cleans up most of the stain. 

What an evil genius. 

However, before the sociopathic plan could be executed, my mom was executed herself by the figurative hands of the Grim Reaper (sorry for all the death jokes. Don’t worry I’m coping just fine. Thank you very much.)

The enormity of what my dad was about to do weighed heavily on his conscience. 

He had to spill the beans on the beans. 

So, right here, right now, he is asking for your forgiveness. The first step on his path to righteousness and repentance. 

“Oh my God, I’m sorry for my sins. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good. I have sinned against you and your church. I firmly intend, with the help of your son, to do penance, and sin no more.” 

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Picture 1: Stain

Picture 2: Where Doug positioned chair when my mom came home

Picture 3: Where Doug positioned chair when my mom woke up and left the bedroom

Picture 4: When Doug just used clothes to cover it up

Stay tuned for Confessions: Part II

My goal now is to become a certified sleep and anxiety coach and as part of that I developed a mini STRESS FREE SLEEP email course. 

​I highly suggest checking it out if you struggle with sleep and panic. 

Buy me a coffee if you liked this blog. 
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And if you're a parent, check out my parenting guide Now What? Mindful Parenting Checklists for Life’s Hard Moments. ​

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L​auren Barrett is a multi-passionate mom working to help all people become their best selves and build positive relationships with the people around them. She has a degree in deaf education and a Master’s in Reading Education. She is a high school teacher of the Deaf and hard-of-hearing, a former cross country coach, a writer/author, and a full time mom to an amazing 4-year old. Lauren is a 3x author, including children’s book,Henry’s Hiccups, and parenting guideNow What? Mindful Checklists for Life’s Hard Parenting Moments. She is a blogger atLauren Barrett Writes. Currently, she is grieving her loving mom’s unexpected death and devoting her time to helping people learn about grief, insomnia, and anxiety in honor of her mom. She loves her faith, running, visiting MLB stadiums with her husband, chocolate, scrapbooking, pretending she would actually do well on the Amazing Race, re-watching The Office, listening to Bobby Bones, and helping out all moms. She lives in North Carolina with her husband, James, and son, Henry. Follow her on her blog and get her free kind for sleep and anxiety, Stress Free Sleep.