Got to Update

I figured it was time to write something.

Even if its only a few paragraphs, I need to get back to documenting the fun we have as parents. Evie is growing and growing, and even though she's having to take physical therapy, she's getting closer to walking every day.

She pulls herself up to her feet, often having to lean against a chair or some other piece of furniture. She's walked/glided along the side of furniture, too. It will only be a few more blinks and soon she'll be running around making me want to pull my hair out by the roots.

Evelyn is awesome. Every Friday we try to have lunch together, and each Friday we sojourn to a restaurant is an adventure on its own. Whether she's eating a quesadilla from Taco Bell or a hamburger from McDonald's, the mess we both make and the strange interactions with other customers make each Friday worth it.

A couple of weeks ago a lady kept staring at us as though someone in our little caravan of two had somehow offended her. Then I realized, my daughter of just about fifteen months was looking at her, squinting and laughing. Evelyn was, in her own way, making fun of this woman. I wanted to stop her but after getting a good look at the lady, I thought, "Well, there's a lot of material for jokes there..." Then I realized where my train of thought had taken me, and re-positioned both myself, and Evelyn so there'd be no more staring.

She's also learned that when mom and dad say "no," we mean it. We mean it bad. Of course, nothing breaks my heart than seeing her pitiful little eyes start to tear up. Fortunately, my wife appears to draw strength from the tears of the infants.

Just kidding... it really shatters her inside, too. Somewhere. Somewhere deep inside the darkest corner of her heart, I'm sure she feels bad.

Somewhere.

Seriously, she laughs.

Ear Infection?

Jennifer took Evelyn to the doctor yesterday. She's had a very high fever for the past four days and after we called the first day, they said to give it a while and if it went higher to bring her in.

So, my wife trekked up to the hospital and did just that.

We were told she's likely got the flu, but its possibly an ear infection.

These are the things, when you're excited to be a dad, you're not really thinking about. Sickness is not something you prepare for.

No, its not life threatening. It's not even a big deal. It is just something, as a dad, I look at and wish I could stop. She whimpers and cries because she's not feeling well. She hardly will eat. All I can do is hold her and wish I could relieve her of the discomfort.

I try to think of myself as a good dad. I try to live up to that. But, at times like this, I am starting to already see that there's going to be plenty of things I'll not be able to fix or change in her life. Will she someday fall off a bicycle and skin her knee? Sure. Will she play a sport and break a bone? Possibly. Will she date a loser boyfriend, make bad friends, and even worse decisions? Maybe. It seems silly that she's not even a year old and I think of these things.

But, its better to be prepared, I suppose, than run and hide when she gets older.

In the mean time, I'll take the flu, or an ear infection over the boyfriend with an I.Q. smaller than his shoe size.

Here I am!

I know I said at one point that keeping up with journals/blogs was something I struggled with. Well, if I didn't say it, then I'm saying it now. But, have no fear, for here I am, blogging once again.

I may not be updating this as often as I would like, but I will shoot for once a week.

Writer's block just destroys my brain and saps my motivation. I will do what I can to keep that from happening again.

Its not that I haven't had something to write about. Evelyn is growing like a weed. And now I get what people mean when they use that tired, old expression.

Evelyn had taken a ride on an airplane four times since my last post. The first ride was quite the adventure, and by adventure I mean "Plug your ears and hide your face, hoping nobody on the plane recognizes you when we land." Yes, we became "THAT" couple, that dares to bring their child on a plane.

We were the most hated people in some people's world for about three hours.

I used to dread those people on a plane, and now I am one. Funny how life does that to you.

Life can be a jerk.

And in a year...

We had an appointment with the genetics doctor today. Everything with Evelyn is great, said he.

The little shakiness in her legs, due to her being born premature, is completely gone. Her acid reflux appears to be at the point we can not test the waters of not giving her the prescribed medicine and see how well she sleeps.

In a year, we are scheduled to go back. Interesting story there...

The lady at the counter says, after we walked out, "So I guess we'll see you in a year. We'll schedule it for September [such and such]." My wife asks, "Is that a Friday or...?"

"It's a Friday," the woman rudely interrupted, "Would you like it for the morning or the afternoon?"

Okay, so I was kind of stressed about going to this appointment. Mainly because of my knowledge of my own stupid luck. Everything with Evie seems to be spectacular, so of course I just knew this doctor would find something to nit-pick and complain about, and try to make me think my daughter was less-awesome. Then, I kind of thought this lady at the counter was just a little snippy. Now, in defense of the poor woman, I really don't think she meant to sound that way. She'd probably had a stressful day, too.

With all those little kids crying in the waiting room and their grandparents fussing over them while mom and dad read the latest issue of Sports Illustrated for Kids - which, by the way, I did not know they continued publishing after I graduated from the third grade. So, after the fact, I can cut her a little bit of slack. I'm sure my wife did not even feel she was being snippy. Or rude. Or whatever other adjective you'd use to describe someone who just stepped on one of your few remaining nerves.

So she asks whether or not we wanted our appointment in the morning or afternoon.

I shot back, "It's in a year, do you really think we're even going to remember the day?"

She kind of laughed, then looked at me with an "Are you serious?" kind of glare.

Yes, I am serious, because believe it or not, I didn't schedule out my entire year from the point of this conversation.

My wife diplomatically plugged in, "We'll have it in the afternoon."

Here is a list of things that could happen between now and the time of that appointment, preventing us from even making it on that specific day, much less in the afternoon versus the morning:

10. A Zombie Apocalypse. Mostly because I wanted to make this joke and I've seen a few comedy/horror movies in the past few months and it has become a new thing with me.

9. We move far, far away from Indianapolis never to see Miss Snooty Nurse or the doctor who likes to find fault with Evie. Hey, it could happen. Where would we move? Who cares, its just a possibility.

8. We win the lotto and can afford better doctors. Not saying this doctor isn't great, but if you had millions of dollars, would you still take your kid to your HMO?

7. Our "real" doctor, Doctor Bryant says its not needed. Probably the most realistic one on the list, and the one thing that would more than likely keep us from going.

6. Evelyn runs away to join the circus. She can't walk yet, but those diapers belong in a freak show.

5. That doctor dies. Just saying. Not wishing it to happen, but hey, you never know.

4. Dinosaurs make a comeback and destroy Indianapolis. Aliens invade. Indianapolis is caught in the middle of a war between vampires and werewolves. Again, see #10.

3. We discover Evelyn has mutant powers and we go into hiding out of fear of what the government may do to her should they find out. Did I mention X-Men was on t.v. recently?

2. We join one of those churches that doesn't believe in going to the doctor. Uhm... yeah just know that this one isn't going to happen. Not having my kid handle snakes, either.

1. We forget about it. Okay, I take back what I said earlier. This is probably the most likely scenario.

And, that's it for my blog this week!

What she's missing out on...

Five years ago today, the Texas Longhorns beat the Ohio State Buckeyes. I remember this because I was sitting on my friend Roger's couch, eating buffalo wings and pizza from the BP gas station in Ellendale, North Dakota. You may laugh, but they served Hot Stuff pizza, and it was the best in town. Granted, the other gas station was the only other place that served pizza and I don't think anybody had buffalo wings except the BP, but to be fair they were all pretty good.

Then, I got a phone call, I can't remember who it was from. Not the first one. I think it was from my dad, but I know I soon got plenty of others. One from my grandma, one from each of my sisters, one from my uncle Michael. The rest of the night goes a little gray.

But I still remember thinking, "Maybe Texas will win."

They did.

I remember all of this because that was the night my mom passed away. The first few calls were telling me she'd been in an accident. Wrecked her motorcycle. Even now, I still think, "Do I tell people my mom died wrecking her motorcycle?" Not out of shame or anything like that, but most people hear that and think I'm joking. Like its another one of Jeff's poor humor jests. It's not.

I got an update saying they couldn't get her to stop bleeding long enough to helicopter her to Evansville, Indiana. Then the bleeding finally stopped and the whole family was driving to Evansville, while I was sitting hopelessly from the sidelines way up in North Dakota. Hearing everything as if I'm still watching that football game, not a participant or even in the crowd, just watching it on the television or hearing it on the radio, just waiting for the next phone call like you'd wait for a poor sportscaster to update you on the score.

I started trying to figure out how we'd fly home. Voices in my head had only questions: Do we have the money? What about class? Will the school be okay with me being gone for a week? What about Jen's class? What about work? Doesn't Northwest give discounts when you have a family member pass away? She's not dead yet, so why are we considering that?

That's when it hit me and I knew, in my heart, she was about to go. Something about the way people talked on the phone; the way they repeated the doctor's words. I'd never get to see my mom again.

But I pushed it all away. I buried it. Because I was in Bible College, and my family was going to need me to be a pastor, be a son, be a brother. Be a man. I couldn't mourn, I couldn't be me. Not for five seconds. That's what I told myself and I got lost.

We went outside and could see the Northern Lights as we loaded the car and headed to Fargo. We'd gotten the news and were making as many last second plans as we could. I learned of my mom's passing and packed for her funeral all in the same hour. The lights were a beautiful thing to see amidst the swirl of emotions. For the next few days, I'd find my mind scattering every which way and think back to them and they'd be my mental anchor. The beautiful northern lights. Texas won. Don't cry. Think about now, deal with that later.

Like I said, so many things are gray. So many things I remember, so few I remember crystal clear. I remember my mother-in-law hugging me at the airport, I remember talking to a lady over the phone about the procedure for securing a discount on tickets, I vaguely remember talking to a coroner about what to do with her organs and telling him to donate what he could. I remember not crying. I remember my uncle Todd in St. Louis hugging me. I can't tell you any other time Todd has wrapped his monstrous arms around anybody, but he cried and said, "She's gone, Jefrey. She's gone."

I remember everyone else crying but me.

I got a little choked up during the funeral, but I only remember crying afterwards. Months afterwards. If I did cry at all that week, I don't remember it at all. I remember fall break, crying half the way home as I drove from Fairfield, Illinois back to our apartment in Ellendale. Half of the way through Iowa I prayed and cried and finally built up the nerve to ask God "Why?" let him know I wasn't happy about the whole situation. In South Dakota I remember feeling a peace in my soul but still feeling like I'd somehow been bamboozled.

And today, I held my daughter until she fell asleep. I had fed her some oatmeal, which in the cutest way possible she splattered all over her face and bib. I laughed as I wiped her face and afterwards we watched t.v. together until she fell asleep on my shoulder and the thought hit me. I hadn't blogged today. I laid her down in her pack and play, and it hit me, today is September 10th.

I looked at Evelyn, completely oblivious to the calendar and well into her nap, beautiful as ever.

And I thought, my mom's really missing out on this.

I cried.

Method to My Insanity

Sometimes, when you're me, you have to do certain things that others may think a little crazy.

I do these things to make myself laugh, often when I don't feel like being happy. I don't always get like this, but I have felt this way so often that I now have developed a habit of being a little crazy for the sake of being a lot crazy.

Today is a great example of this...

I had dressed Evelyn and prepared her for daycare when the following conversation ensued, all from me. Take note that I gave Evelyn's part of the conversation a high pitched British accent - perhaps to make her a somewhat watered down version of Stewie from Family Guy, you know, for comedy's sake.

Me: Well, Daddy needs to get up and make some lunch and get ready to go.

Evelyn: But Daddy, I don't want you to go.

Me: I have to. I gotta go to work and take you to daycare.

Evelyn: I don't to go to daycare, I want to stay home with you and mummy.

Me: Mommy's at work but she'll be by Miss Tyse's to pick you up.

Evelyn: Miss Tyse seems nice when you guys are there but I'm pretty sure she cuts me while I sleep.

Me: Evelyn! That's a very odd accusation. Plus, I've never seen cuts on your arms from this.

Evelyn: Okay, you got me there. Please stay home?

Me: I gotta work, little girl. Sorry. It's how we pay the bills when we're grown ups.

Actual Evelyn: buh huh huh.

Me: I know, I'm weird.


And so ended the wonderful one-sided episode with me and my multiple personalities. Evelyn smiled the whole time, enjoying the odd little exchange.

Little things like this, you'd be surprised, keep your sanity intact. Try it if you don't believe me, but not in public. Never where other people can see you. Never.

This lesson I have learned.

Beauty and the Beast

Our daughter, we have learned, loves animals. Particularly, dogs. More specifically, our dog.

If you haven't read previous posts, Jack is our dog. A purebred boxer we bought from a pet store - something we'll never do again. Not because we hate the poor dog, but because he shows every sign of abuse that comes from being raised in a puppy mill. When we brought him home, one night I noticed a few scars on his legs. When we had trouble house-training him (He still loves to use our carpet as his toilet), the lady who helped us out in puppy classes told us that it is just something we'll have to continually work with him on, as puppy mill dogs are often never housebroken.

But he is our cowardly lion. I've never seen a dog bark so loudly the sheer brutality in his bark drives the mailman to literally drop packages and run to another house, but then Jack will hide from a cricket. Yes, I said a cricket. I have seen him run from a common housefly, and dance around a "pill-bug" outside in hopes to scare it away before the small monster bite him. I have even been witness to Jack running away from the wrath of the dreaded of a Monarch Butterfly.

So we were apprehensive, to say the least, when bringing our daughter home. In fact, I think to some extent I've blogged about this before. But now that Evelyn is up and paying more attention to the world, rather than discussing how Jack relates to her, I thought I'd mention how she loves to stare at Jack.

Stare. As in watch without blinking.

Then she tries to hug him. Or strangle him, her motives are often unclear.

We're inclined to think she loves him and is trying to give the poor beast a hug. Jack, the fool, often rushes in with that horrible depth-perception of his, popping my infant daughter in the nose with his under-bite, then licking her face as if she were a small, human ice cream cone.

The whole time Evelyn smiles like its the most wonderful joy in the world to have an animal who licks unmentionable parts of his own body use the same tongue to slap your face. My wife laughs and takes pictures because, in her mind, the children are playing together. In my mind, I'm just thinking I could probably find a small saddle that would enable use to have a "Jack Rodeo" and film it, put it on Youtube and get a ton of hits, elevating my daughter to the world's newest celebrity and open doors for her to go to Harvard completely free of charge.

This has probably been done before and isn't even funny anymore, but the dog is built like a horse and I clearly have an odd sense of humor.

All in all, I have to say, it has been nice to see she's neither allergic nor afraid of the big cowardly lion.

Now, if we could just get him to stop being afraid of crickets, and stop messing up our floors, we may just have something here.

The Dad Show Don't Stop.

Since Wednesday night I've felt a little under the weather. That is to say, a lot under the weather. Now, I've felt a little sick, I've had headaches, or just been exhausted since we've had Evie, but this is the first time I was really just not up to par.

The first time I'd really been sick, I guess, since being a dad.

And I quickly learned something - my daughter doesn't give a flying turtle's behind how great I feel.

Here I was, knocking on death's door (a slight over-statement) and my daughter still had the audacity to pee in her diaper, want food, and yes, even the rudeness of wanting to be held after I distinctly laid her down in her pack-and-play to take a nap.

It's just her self-centeredness coming out. I'm sure this is a trait she picked up from me, but I thought I developed it at a much later age. It's actually quite unnerving that she's showing signs of it this early in life.

Either way, the last few days I wasn't just a dad. I was a sick dad limping through my illness while trying to keep a five month old happy. If you've never done this, you have no idea how brutally difficult it is.

So don't judge me for being somewhat irritated.

One thing was made clear about parenthood this week. The "Dad Show" doesn't stop just because of a fever and a runny nose. You're still a dad even when you don't feel like being one.

Well, you know, if you're aiming to be a good dad, I guess.

Talking to Feet

Everyone has a cute story about their baby. I learned this quickly because, while some parents will smile while you share a cute story, a poop story, a story where your child says inappropriate things (thank God this hasn't happened, but we know its coming) in front of people, others will often share their own stories. Some parents are not content to simply share a story, either, some must "one-up" your story.

Maybe I'll blog about the different types of parents we've met so far sometime, but then again, what category would I put myself in?

Maybe I won't.

Anyway, today's blog is not about parents. It's a cute story about my daughter I felt the need to share with the entire world due to its powerful cuteness.

That's right. Powerful cuteness.

I work nights, so from the time we both wake up until I take her to our daycare at twelve-thirty, Monday through Wednesday, I am watching, feeding, talking to, or changing my daughter. Notice I said, "from the time we both wake up?" Yeah. Sometimes, it takes me a while to get out of bed. I've not woke up before her yet...

Well, one morning I woke up and fed Evelyn her breakfast. Then, I took her to her crib, and laid her down thinking, "While I am getting ready for work, she can go back to sleep."

Oh the hopes and dreams of dads...

Yet, she was somewhat quiet when I got into and out of the shower. I didn't hear her crying while I brushed my teeth or dressed for my evening's tasks. I even went downstairs to check my email and this is when I thought I heard something.

I walked upstairs and heard her talking.

No, it wasn't some intelligent conversation about the current state of our government. It wasn't a deep theological discussion concerning the actual time frame of Christ's return in relation to the Great Tribulation. It wasn't even a few small words about how Big Bird doesn't look the same now as he did twenty years ago (Did they just clean him up? What is it with that thing?).

It was small "coos," "ahhs," "hewaaahs" and the like. But when I walked in, it was who she was talking to that made me chuckle.

Evie had grabbed her feet, folded herself in half, and had been talking to her toes. Just talking away as if her feet were talking back.

Again, I have no clue as to what she was saying. I'm sure it went something like this, "Okay, here's the plan. I'm going to start teething soon and I need you guys to help me out. When my dad holds me one night to try and get me to be quiet - I don't know Phil [That's probably what she's named her left big toe] these big people do that when I cry - anyway, when he holds me to get quiet, I'm going to kick and squirm and try to get him to drop me. Why? Oh I don't know Darryl [her right big toe], maybe because then I can roll myself over and over and on to freedom? I'm still their captive and have been since the day I escaped..."

But then I walked in on her and interrupted her conversation, by saying in my softest daddy voice, "WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?" and I laughed and smiled, but Evelyn stiffened herself like a board and had this look on her face that screamed, "Nobody. Nothin'. You didn't see anything!"

It was cute. She completely had a guilty look on her face. I swear if she was a Jedi she'd be trying to do the mind trick on me with a wave of her hand and a "You didn't see anything."

I laughed and picked her up, and she just smiled that, "Oh, you got me" smile.

It was a great day.

It's been a while

I hope to get back into the habit of blogging regularly. I've taken a little over a month off, mostly due to complete writer's block, internet issues, and lack of time.

Also, a lack of things to write about.

That last part isn't true. I have plenty of things to write about. I just don't know how to write about them or if some of them should be shared with anyone who doesn't exist within the confines of my own skull. No, I'm not schizophrenic, I just don't know if the world is ready for some of the deep parenting thoughts I'd love to share.

For example, inflatable diapers that have "pee strips" you can just pull out and throw away. For poop, just do the same thing but rinse the diaper off or something.

Trust me on this one, it'll catch on.

Or not.

Needless to say, the last month or so has been eventful. So... what to write about?

First of all, we had our first fever last week. I had to take a day off of work and stay home with a fussy, sick baby, and believe me, if you haven't done this then you are in for a treat.

I believe I said, "If any teenager is out there ready to have pre-marital sex, before they do they should listen to the crying and screaming I've had to endure for the past couple of hours." No birth control method save abstinence would suffice for them.

Trust me on that. Honestly. Just trust me. In fact, they may choose to join a monastery or convent.

I have continued with our weekly tradition that Evelyn and I go out for lunch every Friday together, just the two of us. When she is old enough for school that tradition may get tweaked, but in the mean time, its working out beautifully.

Except for yesterday.

For starters, I need to point out that we think she's teething. She's drooling, sticking her fingers in her mouth constantly, has had a fever (as previously mentioned) and a few cases of mild diarrhea, all symptoms - according to a quick Google search - of teething.

So she's been fussy and a very hard dinner companion to sit with on these Friday outings.

Yesterday, we went to El Meson. If you like Mexican food, I can tell you from exhaustive research that this is the best place to go in Indianapolis. When I say exhaustive research, I mean that. My waste-line is a testament to this statement.

It's also somewhat reasonable on the price. Therefore, my being cheap and wanting to be a good dad worked together for us to dine in this fine establishment Friday, August 19, 2010.

Now, earlier in the day, I had bought something on-line and had taken out my wallet to get the proper card number punched in. The purchase was quick, painless and actually enjoyable, so I thought nothing of it once I clicked all the confirmations. In doing so, forgot that my wallet. It was left on the desk next to our monitor.

When we got to El Meson, Evelyn sat watching me, smiling the entire time I stuffed that beautiful Mexican cuisine into my face. Little did I know, she was smiling because I was about to get doubly embarrassed, and while I am convinced she is an incredibly intelligent baby, some would say "mastermind," I don't think she had this all planned from the beginning. But...

As I was finishing up my lunch, about to gulp down my second Cherry Coke (Which, by the way, I really enjoy with my Taco Salad), I am brought the check by our courteous waiter. Also at this time, Evelyn begins to fuss and squirm. If you have ever been in a nice restaurant with an infant, you know people seem to look at you, waiting for your kid to scream and ruin their dinner. You also know, that when your child does begin to cry, their glares actually pierce your skin like a thousand needles thrust at you from their hollow, soulless (non-parenting) eyes.

So, taking Evelyn's hint that she no longer wished to watch the Spanish t.v. music videos and the waiter's, I drink quickly, grab my daughter and my things, and head to pay for my meal, all the while ignorant of my wallet still sitting at home collecting dust.

When I nervously begin to look for any sign of my leather money container, I notice that in my panic, my daughter is no longer fussing. She's gone quiet. As if... she knew the trap had been sprung. Seriously. She just sat there like some criminal whose plot has worked to perfection. She watched as I franticly searched my bag, my pockets, and her carseat for any sign of my wallet. She seemed to be enjoying this show...

I explainws to the man behind the cash register that I had left my wallet at home, but that I would leave my cell phone as collateral. "It's a two hundred dollar phone," I explained, "I promise I'll be back for it."

With a glare that all but called me a liar and a burglar, he insisted I not leave my phone but in good trust he would ask that I return as soon as possible to pay my bill.

So I grabbed Evie, ran to the truck, buckled her in, flew home, ran inside, grabbed the wallet, drove quickly back to the restaurant and paid. The man behind the counter was a different guy (no doubt the other original waiter had gone to call the cops because I obviously looked like a thief in my cut-up jeans and Captain America T-shirt).

I stated to the new man, who for story's sake I will now call Bill, that while I understand there are people who skip out on their bills, the other guy, who for story's sake I will not give a name other than "the other guy," seemed to look at me as though he did not expect to see me again.

Bill explained that a couple of weeks ago, another person came in, wracked up a 70 dollar bill with her huge entourage of people, and then left her i.d. as collateral. He then proceeded to pull this woman's driver's license out of the cash register and said, "As you can see, she never paid."

I always intended to pay, just for the record. Now, I'm human and there was a small part of me that said, "Just don't go back, the whole ordeal has been humiliating enough as it is. Are they really going to miss ten dollars?" Then, I realized I was wearing a Captain America shirt. Cap wouldn't do that. I remembered that I'm a Christian. Jesus wouldn't do that, either. And I looked down at my daughter who had gone so quiet as if she were watching every move I made and studying what I would do.

And I realized the man I want her to respect, whom she will hold as the standard for every man she meets for the rest of her life, he wouldn't do that either.

But mostly it was the Captain America t-shirt.



So that's the updated blog for today. I hope you enjoyed it!