When the Fit Hits the Shan

You know, sometimes life will put you in your place. It will tell you where you REALLY sit on the 'totem pole' of life. That has happened to me.

It starts out 2 Sunday afternoons ago, I was on the golf course with some of my extended family when I got a call. It was the wife. She said that lil bit was running a fever and was just wondering when I was going to be done golfing. Well, I was finishing up the first 9 holes, and decided to leave halfway through the game. I went home to a sick child. Now, if you knew me 5 years ago, you would know that my #1 fear in life is sick children. I have accepted now that this fear must be put away. So lil bit is running a fever----ALL WEEK. The Doctor said she was probably getting over something and would be fine. OK. That is fine. The fever went on for 8 DAYS!

So the next weekend has come upon me and I feel that weekends have changed their meaning for me since I became a father. Before, there was no such things as weekends for me. I don't like Mondays so I figured a long time ago that if you work 7 days a week there is no such thing as Monday. It was great, it work out for me just fine, and it got me out of the house so that my better half could go and shop or do whatever she did. Now, weekends are like the 'healing time' or the time to just catch up on things in the house.

This weekend brought a break in the fever of lil bit just to usher in the fever of my wife. Yep, she feels bad. So Monday comes around again and the Doc says she has Strep. That means that not only am I going to get it, but she is not the wonderful woman I married when she is sick. That is OK. Monday evening rolls around and I think I am going to lick my wounds. The wife is on antibiotics, lil bit's fever broke, and things just might turn around. Then our dog, Rudy, decides to get in a fight with a frog out in the backyard.

Not a big deal, right? Well, I found out (IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH, BE WARNED) that frogs, when threatened, tend to excrete a toxin that makes the attacker (Rudy) back off. So Rudy comes back into the house shaking his head. I think it is nothing, until I hear the word that I hate to hear the most in my household, "ALAN!" Rudy just vomited on the bed. I thought, 'OK, he was just upset and this will pass.' Nope, it happened again on the bed, the couch, the living room floor, the kitchen floor, and a place that I had not known until I stepped without looking.

I called the after hours vet. The lady on the other end of the phone said to just wash out his mouth and he will just pass the toxins eventually. That was fun, wrestling a sick dog to get his mouth open so I can clean it out. So I am sitting on the couch right now, with the girls finally in bed, with Rudy just laying beside me. He hasn't, you know what, for awhile now, but I am still scared that the fact he sleeps in the bed with me and I wake up in the middle of the night just to get a face full of, well you know.

The moral of this story, 'What ever doesn't kill you, sure can make you tired.'

Dixie Chicks meet Madonna

I am a music lover. I always have been. I loved Milli Vanilli back in '89, and still do. I love classic rock, I love hippie stuff like the Grateful Dead. I love country, and I like to listen to up and coming artist. I saw a report on Madonna today. She was performing her 'Sticky and Sweet' tour stop in Bucharest. Now I must say that I used to sneak into the living room early in the morning when I was about 8 years to watch MTV. My parents did not know this, I think. I remember watching Madonna videos and she was a really hot lady back in the day. She just oozed sex appeal. Now she just oozes.

There are two problems that I see here with this picture.
#1. She is over the age of 50 and her 'Sticky and Sweet' tour looks more sticky than sweet. There is nothing more disturbing than watching a woman like her dancing around a stripper pole in a garter belt and thigh highs. If I were to attend her concert, that would be only the second time I would be dry heaving in the middle of the crowd (I attended a Pantera concert in college and I just don't ever want to talk about that night ever).

#2. I have been to many concerts. When in line to get to my seat, I have found myself talking to the other fans saying, 'I sure do hope Steven Tyler will make a political statement during this concert', or 'I hope Willie Nelson will discuss his views on the economy between songs.' Nope, I have never really cared what singers think about anything. Come to think about it, I don't even care what 99% of the general population think. But Madonna has now angered the Eastern Block by saying that Gypsies are treated unfairly. Now I am not turning my back on the Gypsy cause. I just think that you should do your job and let others do theirs. Having Madonna and the Dixie Chicks and Springsteen coming out with their little 'pet political causes' is like being a foreman of a construction site and seeing the electrician installing sewer pipe. You would have to go over to him and say 'hey, your a great electrician, but I think that you running the sewer line might not be the best idea. Let's leave that to the plumbers, huh?'

What is next is sports, I am telling you in advance. Is Tony Romo going to break huddle and then grab a microphone and tell the crowd in Cowboy's Stadium to vote NO on bond issue 445132b then take the snap? Is Josh Beckett going to warm up in the bullpen then go to the mound and grab the mike and say that we need to take action against the evil oil companies that are polluting our Earth? I can see it, 'As you know, I am a pitcher, and I take the mound, but today I would like to take the mound to stand up against these oil companies. We need to strike these guys out before they make global warming, errrr, climate change worse. Thank you!' Then I would be sitting on my couch and look over to my wife and say, 'WOW, Beckett is right, I mean a guy that can throw a 95 mile-an-hour fastball can't be wrong on something like this!'

So the moral of this story, Madonna, Dixie Chicks, everyone else, leave the shit to the plumbers. They know what to do with it.

40 Years Later

If you know me personally, you probably know that I HATE politics and anything that has to do with it. This blog is one about my life, and light-hearted subjects that have to do with fatherhood and just being a regular 'dude'. However, something struck me in the head this morning (metaphorically speaking).

Ted Kennedy died last night. I am not one to rejoice or take glory in anybody's death. I think that life is precious and, when someone dies, it affects the people around them. I hope that Ted's family will handle this well. When I found out that Ted Kennedy had brain cancer, I felt sorry for him. I never really agreed with any of his policies while he was in the Senate, and we probably wouldn't agree on any issue if we were to debate each other, but that is beside the point. He is still a person, a brother, a father, and a friend to many. I was reading articles this morning about him and his legacy. One thing stuck out to me that has disturbed me.

This 'thing' that has disturbed me is the condition of the 'human condition' in these articles about his life. Many of the articles written described him as a well loved politician and colleague that stood up for his principles and how he lived with the death of his brothers and tried to be the best 'public servant' America could ever want. The radio was buzzing in my truck discussing whether he was the greatest Senator of our generation. But what was that 'thing' that has disturbed me so much.

Well, I did some research, and read up on an incident called the Chappaquiddick Incident. There are many accounts of this incident but it so happens that on a night in July of 1969, Mr. Kennedy's car ran off a bridge into the water. He escaped but there was a female passenger in the car that did not survive. Mary Jo Kopechne drowned in that car. Seeing that I was far from even being born at the time, I can just read the reports and stories of this incident. The word is that Mr. Kennedy may have had too much to drink, and/or took the wrong turn. He was charged with leaving the scene of an accident after causing injury and received a suspended sentence.

Leave it at that and I wouldn't be writing about this story. But the problem I see in all of these articles is NOT the sadness or remembrance of Mary Jo, but the writer of most of these articles mention this incident not in sorrow for the deceased, but in sorrow that the incident prevented Ted from winning the White House. Not being President? That is what our media is remembering? They pave over the fact that somebody's daughter was killed in a car that was slowly sinking into a body of water. And the REAL tragedy is the fact that Ted Kennedy just could not get into the White House?

What has happened to us? Is it just the media? Who realizes that there was a woman that died in a horrific accident 40 years ago? Maybe I have just gone crazy and need to get MY priorities straight and morn the loss of the Presidential bid in 1980 of Mr. Kennedy just like everyone else who likes to write articles about this story.

Postpartum depression

For those who know me, I am not one to hide many things in my life. There has been one thing that has been bothering me for months now. I am not sure what it is. I have just not been myself lately. As a new father, I love being a daddy to the prettiest girl in the whole wide world. I love spending time with her. But, in all seriousness, I am scared of her. I am scared that I will do something around her that will mess her up for life. Really, I can't explain it. Maybe I am just afraid that I am not being a good enough father. Maybe I am not there for her as much as I should be or not treating her like I should.

A few years ago, I was a huge go-getter. Work was how I defined myself. That was fine back then because my wife understood this fact before she married me. But now my little girl takes the front seat in my life. In this I have become somebody I do not know. I have never really had to deal with depression in my life because I have been blessed with an optimistic personality. But my wife approached me last week, noticing that I have not been myself, and told me that I may need to seek some help. Well, as a man, I automatically thought that I am too much of a man to seek help. I have everything under control. I ALWAYS am on top of EVERYTHING! Then I started thinking, maybe she is right. I am always tired, run down, and find the easiest daily task very difficult. Taking out the trash might as well be building an addition onto our house.

I take long naps, and can't sleep at night even when I don't take naps. It seems that the thought of having to do something makes me tired. So, yeah, I am suffering from depression, and I am not ashamed. I am seeing a psychiatrist for the first time this Thursday. I would not be doing this if I was single. I would just plow through this and probably never admit anything is wrong. But I have a wife and daughter that depend on me to be there and myself. I think that coming out and seeking help is something that 'us guys' are ashamed to admit. But I am doing this because if I don't, I am robbing my family of a father and husband.

I just thank God that I have a wife that knows me well enough to point out things I refuse to see. And he blessed me with her because she is patient, kind, and picks up the slack I leave sometimes without one harsh word or complaint from her. She truly is the second best thing that has happened in my life.

The Crazy Girlfriend

I think it is best to say that I can easily compare my 10 month old girl to some of the girls I dated in College. I mean that by saying I have had my experiences with some crazy women in my past. I have dated that girl that would just start crying for no reason, had a lot of emotional baggage, and I was constantly trying to comfort them. Then, when I would get tired of doing that, I would break up with them. My little girl, however, I cannot break up with. Yep, that is little bit. She does the same things that my ex-girlfriends used to do, but I have to keep her around. She will be playing in the living room, having fun, laughing, then all of a sudden, start crying for no reason at all.

She is also very abusive to her daddy. We are talking about pulling hair, grabbing my bottom lip, pulling my leg hair. But I have to take this abuse in stride and not break up with her. To have a child, you need to remove all source of reason and then you will get it. Why is she crying? No reason, she is just tired. Why is she embarrassing me in public, no reason, she just can. So now I am living with one of THOSE girls in my own house. Luckily, my wife is not one of those.

I like watching movies, in peace. Nope, not anymore. I have worn out the pause button on my remote so bad I have to call the cable company to request a new remote. Lil Bit just crawls into MY room and starts slobbering and destroying my personal stuff like it is hers. Just like that crazy girlfriend. My phone, the dog, the remote, the piece of the Berlin Wall that I have in my possession, all fair game for her.

With all of that in mind, she is too cute to give to another couple. I have thought of having some sort of bartering on Craig's List offering up my daughter for a pair of white-wall tires, or some cool power tool, but I have not yet. I guess it is that fatherly love that people have been telling me about. I watched The Last House On The Left last night. There was a rape scene in the movie involving a man's daughter. While I was watching it, I started to feel my heart beat faster, the testosterone level raise, and the anger fill my head. Now I know what fatherly love is. There is nothing that I wouldn't do for that little girl. I would fight off 15 full grown men with my bare hands for her. Maybe that is why she is not on Craig's List right now.

Having to break character

I am trying to get the whole story down about my lil bit's birth up to present, but some things happen that I just have to tell.

I am going on vacation tomorrow. I VERY much needed vacation. I am meeting my two best friends from college down in Dallas for a couple days. We are going to take in 2 Red Sox v Ranger's games. We are getting together without any wives or children for the first time in about 7 years. I think it will be good for us. Kind of a 'testosterone fest'.

However, for the two months, I have been beaten down by work. It has affected me physically and mentally. Yesterday, I was just getting it from all ends. People were calling me, yelling, complaining, and just trying to make it impossible for me to reach the end of the day. So I just go home for lunch. I needed a break. I am sitting at the dining room table and eating with my wife and lil bit eating next to me. I was eating in a sort of dejected way. Kind of like the world has it out for me. I was feeling like I wouldn't be able to make it through the day without a complete mental meltdown. Then all of a sudden, I look over at lil bit in her high chair. She wasn't making any noise, just sitting there eating. She then looked at me with her beautiful blue eyes, and did one thing that just made it feel like God himself sent her down to do this. She just looked at me and smiled. Not like an infant smiles, just like an 'everything is gonna be okay' smile. I couldn't help but smile back. That was all I needed to understand two things.

1. God HAD to put her in my life, no other explanation.

2. By some divine intervention, she had sensed my frustration and knew just what daddy needed.

All I needed was that smile, and for a fleeting moment, everything went away and I knew that I was going to be OK.

Thanks lil bit.

Daddy.

OK, what happens now?

I have been told that being a daddy is something that will change your life. Yeah? No kidding? So 'they' say having a small, loud, yelling, grabbing, pooping, biting, snotty thing living in your house will change your life? I knew that. That is why, when my wife asked me about children four years ago I looked at her and said, "yeah, what about them?" No, she wasn't asking what I think of children, she was asking what I think of having one tearing up my peaceful home and waking me up in the middle of the night with their terrible screeches. I told her I was too young (24).

So I did everything I could to distract her overwhelming 'baby hormones' by getting her stuff. It started with a house. She said she thought it was a good time to buy a house. I thought, "WOW, with the looking, the bartering, the closing, the decorating, and everything else, that should distract her for about 6 months. Nope, the house was decorated, moved into, and, by her understanding, missing something (a baby) by about 1 1/2 months. So what am I to do next? Get a dog. Not only get A dog, I found a stray dog with a broken leg, ear mites, and a liver problem. Understanding her love for animals, I thought this could be something that could buy me about another 6 months or so.

$1,700 dollars and 2 months later, the dog was in good health, she had nursed him back to his original weight, and 'the dog' became a sort of bodyguard for my wife. That is right, the dog I rescued from death was now the thing that would bark and want to fight me when I just wanted to give my OWN WIFE a kiss. So then it come to the conversation, "hey honey, Rudy (the dog) needs a playmate. You know what I mean?" Yep, I sure do! Another stray dog, right?

OK, so let's get to the side note. I think I need to open up and help everybody understand what is going on inside of my head. A lot of stuff. If you were to venture into my state of mind, you would probably freak out and run home crying. I like relaxing. I like people who leave me alone. I have a job that pretty much consist of babysitting 50 or more adults and mediating their problems, giving them solutions, and being the one person in their universe that keeps them in orbit. I get PAID for that. That is why I like to be left alone when I am on MY time. I am a cranky old man. I don't like large groups of people (not because I am agoraphobic, just because I believe that 80% of the general population are morons). I like watching movies UN-INTERRUPTED! I hate when I am in a public restroom at a urinal and a guy picks the one next to ME, not the one at the other side of the wall! Men know what I am talking about, I HATE when guys violate 'man rules'. So why in the world would I want something in my life that would violate all of the before mentioned rules?

So I entered into the bonds of fatherhood in the start of 2008. I was on the couch watching T.V. when my wife came into the room with a stick that had a + on it. She was crying (happy tears, not, "Oh no! I am only 14 years old and I really wanted to finish the 8Th grade before I have my first child) which meant that my life was going to change---fast. I was happy. No, that is the wrong word. I was ELATED? Maybe the word doesn't exist but is something between surprised and excited, like surpcited or something. So I was VERY surpcited! That surpcition then turned to a fear that started to brew deep inside of me while I slept that night. This was not a fear of like, "OH! Is this mole on my back bigger than the eraser of a pencil? Or, did that cop car turn around to pull ME over because I was going a little over the speed limit?" Nope, it was a fear like I, me, myself FOREVER will be responsible for a living thing that doesn't just need food and goes potty in the backyard and you walk it around the block every once in a while. Nope, this was a fear that struck me from my soul that said, "It's OK, what is the worst that could happen if you mess up on this? You raise a crackhead that robs banks and leads police on a cross-county chases only to be let out of jail on a 'technicality' to scare the heck out of me and my wife because this child knows where we live and is going to want to come and kill us in the middle of the night?" Yeah, that kind of fear.