Today is Tuesday, July 9th, and I'm feeling pretty depressed. I just spent 10 days with my boys, my beautiful rascals, and I'm faced with a return to work. It's not so much that I mind the job, but after longer stays, I'm reminded of what life with them around means to me. What I'm missing when they're gone.
*This is more of a personal diary, no obligation to wade through it all :)
Friday June 28th
The boys arrive in a blaze of hugs and miniature voices inquiring about our plans for the week. I told them we were having a Staycation, and that made Sam think I was the wittiest person alive. I tested a new pretzel bread sandwich on them, which they requested the rest of the week, then we proceeded thru the scavenger hunt. As they only come to stay every other weekend, our few house rules are often forgotten, driving Elizabeth and I into a perpetual state of madness. This time around, we laminated flash cards with our rules, and hid them throughout the house. 20 mins later, due to my having forgotten the location of one of the 6 cards I hid, we had the boys read the cards off, and place them in appropriate places in the house. To celebrate, we walked over to Rita's and tried out the new picnic tables by the Walmart center. Perfect weather, perfect family, perfect start to the vacation. Sorry Sam, I meant Staycation.
Saturday June 29th
No hurry in starting our morning, but we eventually made our way to The Laughing Ogre to do a bit of shopping for reading material for the week. Ray got a Marvel magazine, Sam a Batman chapter book and I Superman Red Son. Ray was upset because I had him save his birthday money rather than spend it on a Batman plush doll. He has a lot of plush dolls. From there we swung by GG's nursing home to say hello, then back home for lunch and some reading time. Sam finished his book for the week in less than an hour. As Eliz was at a bachelorette party, we met Joe at Highlands pool for a swim before picking Eliz up and heading to Jojo's for an evening hang out. She likely wasn't going to get to go out with the girls that night, so I went to Kroger for party supplies. Torrential downpour. I digress. Jojo and Felicia's, lots of hotdogs and Fruit Ninja-ing. Home.
Sunday June 30th
I woke the boys up kind of early to go enjoy the Westerville Skate/BMX park. I wanted to get some riding in before we had to go clean house and get ready for guests. It is worth noting that unprompted, Ray, on his 16" bike with full training wheels, decided to attempt riding down a ramp. He did great until he let go of the handle bars halfway down. Skinned knee and crying, but I offered (a previously planned) Ice Cream Sundae in reward for his bravery. We spent the rest of the morning getting ready for Frankie, Emily, Omri and Olive to descend upon our condo. They arrived mid-afternoon to much screaming and running about, and we basically spent the day sharing drinks, video games, musics and cigars. I think the kids did stuff too, judging by the WW3 disaster in their room when I put them down for bed. The ice-cream sundae's hit the spot and I ended the night happy that both my children had a blast, and knowing that some folks will always be family, no matter what.
Monday July 1st
My mom took the day off to hang with me and the boys, and Frankie and fam. We went to the zoo and ran around for a bit before parting ways with Frankie. Not before, of course I showed off my favorite bats and ray visited his elephants. The boys got extremely hungry and fought about whether to go to Five Guys or Red Robin. The vote was 3 to 1 and we went to the Robin. To my dismay, my patty was flat, frozen at one point and lifeless. Exhausted, we headed off to Target where Ray spent his birthday money on a Diego DS game and a Yoda/Spaceship action figure set. I thought that was the end of the day, so I dragged the boys back to the BMX park so I could ride off a bit of my burger haha. Sweaty and tired, I figured we oughta use the baseball mitts I had them bring down. Let's just say, I am bad at ball sports and my children are worse. And despite my education background, I should not teach balls sports. Jojo invited us back to Highlands, but it was cold. Carpe Diem prevailed and we went anyway. I'm glad we did. Sam, we discovered, was just tall enough to go on the big slide. He was frightened, so naturally, I bribed him. As we eventually made it to the top, he gripped the tower bars and screamed bloody murder. The lifeguard turned a blind eye as I peeled Sam off the bars and dumped him on the slide entrance. Once his feet hit the slide-water, he shut-up, and a smile went across his face by the 2nd turn on his way down to Jojo in the pool. He begged to go down again and again, and when we got home I hopped on eBay to order his Clone Wars Lego DS game :)
Tuesday July 2nd
Eliz was none too happy that we were enjoying a lot of vacation fun without her, but as luck would have it, she had the afternoon off. The boys and I stalled until she was off, and we headed to Star Lanes, the new posh bowling alley in Columbus. I love this place. The lane couches are new, leather, and awesome. The black-lit lanes are super cool, and they had nickJR and a Justice League cartoon playing on the huge projection screens. I think I'm 5. Then again, the Goose Island IPA was cold and delicious. The gourmet bacon cheeseburger was hot... and delicious. The boys had a blast with and without the ramp. From bowling we loaded up the cards and played arcade games for an hour or so. Fruit Ninja, basket ball, snowmobiling (which Ray did by himself-awesome), whack-a-villain, DDR knives chow style, Guitar hero and all the crappy ticket prizes a family of four could want. And as if that wasn't enough, we crossed the street to Gigi's cupcakes and put ourselves into a sugar coma. Ray ate all his icing before he realized there was cake underneath it. I can't remember anything else we did that day.
Wednesday July 3rd
Aunt Felicia & family did us a major solid by setting up an entire fun day in her hometown of Newark. For the afternoon we splashed away at the Heath Municipal Pool (which I'm sorry Westerville, puts ours to shame). The boys romped in the freezing cold splash park, Joe made me go down their awesome slides (which apparently I don't know how to use and am still nursing a bruise on my elbow), Felicia packed snacks and we generally had an awesome time. We got rained out for an hour so I left the boys with their Aunt/Uncle and went home to pick up Elizabeth. When we made it back, the boys were water-logged and it was time to head to OSU Newark for the festivities. Felicia's mom had packed a righteous picnic for all of us, so we feasted, and enjoyed some family time on the beautiful campus. Live music provided by Styx & Stones (who to my knowledge played neither Styx nor Stones) as well as a live orchestra. I channeled my inner Bluth and bought the boys and I chocolate covered frozen bananas. A few glow-sticks and a game of tag later it started raining just before launch time. We covered up and enjoyed as the fireworks lit up the buildings and the rain sprinkled on our heads. It was a wonderful day, but I would be remiss if I didn't mention the tweakers in the parking lot next to us as we waited to leave. They looked like they had snakes crawling under their skin if they didn't get a fix or get out of the parking lot. Good times.
Thursday July 4th
The day I planned this week around for a year. The day I had missed every year with my boys since they were moved up north. Westerville fireworks day. I had originally thought we could help with the WPR float and have the boys ride in the parade. That wasn't an option this year unfortunately, so we settled into our street-side seats (Thank you Miss Sherry and Craig!) and watched the floats...float on by. I like a kid to have a little spunk, but the little shits that stepped all over my blanket and right in front of my boys and made sure they got nothing but sloppy candy seconds, you can go suck an egg. You, and the drunk guy behind me. The afternoon brought us yet another cookout (It was quite the week for the grill). This one had some killer sliders and the boys got their Kaitlyn fix while we prepared for nightfall. We have the geographical advantage of living about a 1/4 mile from the Westerville Fireworks launch site. So at most, we walk 50 ft to our field and watch from there. This year, I was even lazier and set up our chairs right in our front yard. It was awesome. Aside from one pesky street light we had a perfect view, and I sent the boys in to potty without getting up from my seat. They were in awe of how close we were. They kept thinking the mini-bursts during the display were the finale. I kept telling them "just wait". When it finally hit, the boys were mesmerized and jumped to tell me that they were the best fireworks they had ever seen. I felt vindicated. If this week wasn't worth it already, it was now. We finished the night with sparklers, snaps and snakes. ...And the boys may have stayed up til 11:30 playing xBox.
Friday July 5th
Independence day hangover. No, no alcohol, just a busy as hell week. Slept in for the morning, Eliz had the afternoon off, and we were counting down to a much needed sleepover at Jojo's. We made it over to Marcus Crosswoods for Despicable Me 2 in 3D. Cute movie, the boys had a ton of laughs. I won't lie, we shuffled the boys over for the sleepover, where I'm told they baked pizzas, went to Millstone park (that Jojo made), went to Rita's, had a watergun fight, colored, and played video games until, ahem, 1:30a.
Saturday July 6th
We met the boys at my moms for an afternoon hang out before our (hopefully) annual slip 'n slide party. ~150 feet of sheet plastic and a big hill makes for a good time. The boys had some friends over and we flung our bodies down the hill as much as we could stand. We cooked out (gasp). At the end of the evening, torsos shredded from grass, legs tired from the hill climbs, we packed in the Tucson, drove home and collapsed.
Sunday July 7th
Sunday rolled around, I was tired, penniless, and hoping the boys wouldn't notice. We had some free time in the morning and eventually made our way to the Westerville Putt Putt & Batting cages to enjoy a Groupon deal courtesy Miss Elizabeth. Eliz and I were exhausted and did not really want to go, but the sun peaked through the clouds, there was a slight breeze, and the well-kempt mini-golf course showed us an excellent time. We didn't keep score and had a three hit rule to keep things moving, and the boys were ecstatic. We moved onto the batting cage where Sam managed to hit a few, way to go buddy! We rounded out the evening with yet another trip to Rita's, and made it home for an 8p sharp bedtime. After which I snuck in to watch my boys sleep for the last time for our vacation. I got more than a little emotional in that room.
Monday July 8th
I won't lie, Monday didn't count much. Get up, get dressed, get driving. But on Monday we recounted the weeks events in the car, and I realized that the boys had an amazing time. I teared up as I dropped them off, and was more than touched by the huge extra long hugs I got. I don't wish regular goodbyes to one's children on anyone, but I'm glad the goodbyes are so hard. They show me, after I quit being depressed, that we have something worth missing.
I love you Sam and Ray. See you in 2 weeks.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Saturday, February 16, 2013
So, I'm engaged :)
Facebook is an interesting thing. I've had rock star attention for the last 24hrs, as yestereve I bejeweled the left hand of my loved one.
I blog, yet again, to myself so I don't forget more details about last night than I already have.
The plan had been in the works since the day after Christmas. Cheesy, yes. But I woke up the day after my favoritest of days knowing in my heart that I wanted to marry Elizabeth. It was a great feeling. Uncertainties of past failures finally swept aside and allowing myself a sense of hope in our relationship. Good things.
I asked her sister first. After all, parental decline I could live with, but trying to manage a life with someone while her sister disapproves, thats just suicide. Meaghan was all about it. Ecstatic even. She was my biggest support, and I wore out her phone number during the months of January and February.
I couldn't concentrate on anything meaningful for two days before the proposal. My classes knew I was off, I had no rhythm, I was just waiting in great expectation of Friday night, February 15th. (Yeah, day after Valentine's: classy) If you work with me or above me, skip this next sentence. I did one short activity with my last class that day before succumbing to nerves, and dismissing them about 40 mins early haha. I couldn't think about anything else.
Off to Meaghan's I went for another SuperCuts experience. After the cut I made her sit and listen to me whine and whimper about nerves and such. Then I mustered up the courage to go home, where I needed to make a few quick preparations before Eliz and I headed downtown for our V-day dinner. Quick shower and off to the basement for me. I loaded my coat with the ring and her "gift" and avoided her like the plague, lest she see through my guise.
She gave me some sweet gifts, and we headed out. A pile of anxiety, I drove under the speed limit all the way there, and dropped her off at the restaurant so I could park next to the proposal site unbeknownst to her. There is an overpass atop 670 near Park & Goodale where we had our first awkward moment on our first "non" date. I've known for years I would do it there, and I wanted to avoid her seeing it before dinner at all costs. I hope I didn't snap at her too badly when she suggested I use valet.
Dinner was fantastic. Sushi Rock. Baddass steak, really good sushi, cool atmosphere. But I rushed all of it. A photographer was waiting in the cold for us to finish and shoot the proposal. So i sped the two of us through one of the swankiest dinners we've shared, (told her my parking meter was running out ;) alerted the photographer, and off we went.
Everything was "in the zone" NBA Jam style. On the NW corner of High and Goodale we reminisced about how I told her there that she was "fun", and how fools in her past had never told her that. We talked about our walk back to the car as we approached the overpass, and both automatically went to the spot of our fateful moment from years back, and enjoyed a gaze at the traffic passing beneath us as the February air surrounded us with the lightest touch of snow.
I had given her a small Lego heart at dinner. I told her that I made it as a trinket for her to keep, a piece of my heart. There on the overpass, I told her I lied. I asked to see it and told her it was a part of a bigger Lego kit. She produced the heart from her bag and handed it over, I reached in my pocked and pulled out a small Lego box, affixed the heart to the top in the clumsiest manner imaginable, and bent to one knee. I believe the words out of her mouth were "Are you f%^&*#* kidding me?". I laughed, then told her "take off your gloves".
I can't remember what all I told her. My voice was shaky, my pre-dinner cocktail did me no service to calm my nerves. But I know I told her that when we started, we were weird as s&%*, that she was my weird. But that I couldn't lose her, because she had become such a close friend, my best friend. And that even though we had fallen in love, at heart she was always my best friend. And that's why we work. No matter where out relationship is, we have our friendship to fall upon. I told her "I can't lose you." I said "will you marry me?"
She said yes.
*We partied like kings at Union Café afterwards in the company of good friends and family. Then capped off the evening at the place where our wild reunion began. Cushions :) Huge thanks to everyone who supported me in this effort, friends, family, and the gracious management of Union Café. Now while I type, my princess sleeps beside me, hopefully a little more soundly as I have taken my head out of the sand and admitted; I love her.
I blog, yet again, to myself so I don't forget more details about last night than I already have.
The plan had been in the works since the day after Christmas. Cheesy, yes. But I woke up the day after my favoritest of days knowing in my heart that I wanted to marry Elizabeth. It was a great feeling. Uncertainties of past failures finally swept aside and allowing myself a sense of hope in our relationship. Good things.
I asked her sister first. After all, parental decline I could live with, but trying to manage a life with someone while her sister disapproves, thats just suicide. Meaghan was all about it. Ecstatic even. She was my biggest support, and I wore out her phone number during the months of January and February.
I couldn't concentrate on anything meaningful for two days before the proposal. My classes knew I was off, I had no rhythm, I was just waiting in great expectation of Friday night, February 15th. (Yeah, day after Valentine's: classy) If you work with me or above me, skip this next sentence. I did one short activity with my last class that day before succumbing to nerves, and dismissing them about 40 mins early haha. I couldn't think about anything else.
Off to Meaghan's I went for another SuperCuts experience. After the cut I made her sit and listen to me whine and whimper about nerves and such. Then I mustered up the courage to go home, where I needed to make a few quick preparations before Eliz and I headed downtown for our V-day dinner. Quick shower and off to the basement for me. I loaded my coat with the ring and her "gift" and avoided her like the plague, lest she see through my guise.
She gave me some sweet gifts, and we headed out. A pile of anxiety, I drove under the speed limit all the way there, and dropped her off at the restaurant so I could park next to the proposal site unbeknownst to her. There is an overpass atop 670 near Park & Goodale where we had our first awkward moment on our first "non" date. I've known for years I would do it there, and I wanted to avoid her seeing it before dinner at all costs. I hope I didn't snap at her too badly when she suggested I use valet.
Dinner was fantastic. Sushi Rock. Baddass steak, really good sushi, cool atmosphere. But I rushed all of it. A photographer was waiting in the cold for us to finish and shoot the proposal. So i sped the two of us through one of the swankiest dinners we've shared, (told her my parking meter was running out ;) alerted the photographer, and off we went.
Everything was "in the zone" NBA Jam style. On the NW corner of High and Goodale we reminisced about how I told her there that she was "fun", and how fools in her past had never told her that. We talked about our walk back to the car as we approached the overpass, and both automatically went to the spot of our fateful moment from years back, and enjoyed a gaze at the traffic passing beneath us as the February air surrounded us with the lightest touch of snow.
I had given her a small Lego heart at dinner. I told her that I made it as a trinket for her to keep, a piece of my heart. There on the overpass, I told her I lied. I asked to see it and told her it was a part of a bigger Lego kit. She produced the heart from her bag and handed it over, I reached in my pocked and pulled out a small Lego box, affixed the heart to the top in the clumsiest manner imaginable, and bent to one knee. I believe the words out of her mouth were "Are you f%^&*#* kidding me?". I laughed, then told her "take off your gloves".
I can't remember what all I told her. My voice was shaky, my pre-dinner cocktail did me no service to calm my nerves. But I know I told her that when we started, we were weird as s&%*, that she was my weird. But that I couldn't lose her, because she had become such a close friend, my best friend. And that even though we had fallen in love, at heart she was always my best friend. And that's why we work. No matter where out relationship is, we have our friendship to fall upon. I told her "I can't lose you." I said "will you marry me?"
She said yes.
*We partied like kings at Union Café afterwards in the company of good friends and family. Then capped off the evening at the place where our wild reunion began. Cushions :) Huge thanks to everyone who supported me in this effort, friends, family, and the gracious management of Union Café. Now while I type, my princess sleeps beside me, hopefully a little more soundly as I have taken my head out of the sand and admitted; I love her.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Really good week
I'm really pretty fortunate.
Talk to me two years ago at this time, and I'd say I had a lot for which to be thankful. And I did. I also had a great deal to overcome. A lot of things were pretty horrible. Now I start 2013, and I think it is going to be a pretty good year. Maybe it's more accurate to say that things have been going really well lately and I'm excited at the prospect of more to come.
So, what I really intend to write about is my vacation. It was a great one, and I want to document a few of the highlights. Selfishly, I admit this is more of a diary than a blog (in case you hadn't already noticed) and this post specifically I write in order to remember.
Mon, Dec 24 2012- Most unorthodox start to a Christmas eve I've ever had. Spent the night in NW OH to visit some friends and then to be able to pick up my boys first thing in the morning. I had them for a week, and I was excited to start Christmas. Not before waking up at 4:30a for a 6a Bootcamp in Fostoria. I was told wake up call was 4:50, so I was sure to be waiting behind the door with a Batman mask on to scare the shit out of my buddy. Chuckles were had. After a 2000's pop mix Bootcamp with a potentially scary drill instructor type, I packed up and brought my boys back home. We swung by for Elizabeth and went to my parents' for Christmas eve. It was a nice afternoon, eating, conversing, seeing my both my Grandmas. We headed home early evening so the boys could get their first (and biggest) gift: bunk beds. They were jazzed and begged to go to bed at 7a. I took that as a high compliment.
Tues, Dec 25- I maaaay have awoken at 3:30a, unable to sleep due to the excitement of having my boys in the next room on Christmas morning. I got them up at 4 with Eliz and we opened our stockings from Santa. The room was lit only by our tree and my signature C7 color painted glass bulbs. There is a certain beauty in the simplicity of stockings. They had no big gifts to open at our place, but were so jazzed at the nerf guns, Uno cards, Bubble Tape, etc. Awesome. We headed to my parents bright and early around 5:18 and opened gifts. Yes, there were a lot of great things given, Guitars, Bruce, record players to name a few. The room was awash with gifts. My mom is nuts. My dad is nuts. Love them. We proceeded to "Miss Sherry's" house where Santa brought the super hero box filled with villains. It was great getting to share Christmas day with both families and with the boys.
Wed, Dec 26th- I put on my Dad hat, and we had an organization day. Every Christmas brings a whole new set of colored plastics to my house, and I usually purge quite a bit to make room for the influx. I had my boys be part of the process, and to my surprise, they rose to the occasion. We filled several large bags full of old toys that they chose to donate to those in need. By midday, their room was organized, cleaned, and ready for play time. We spent most of the day trying out new toys. I'm here to say that after a week, they still kept the room clean. Not bad for a 4 and 6 year old. This evening we had Aunt, Uncle and Cousin over to see their room and play with the Hexbugs they got them for Christmas. Capped it all off with a big family game of Uno. Awesome.
Thurs, Dec 27th- I want to say this was the day we went out haha. The weather was so snowy that we had a lot of days in. I didn't mind. After going to Costco and scoring some Winter boots 'n such, we went to lunch at Red Robin with my mom and one of my best friends from school. It was great to catch up. I miss him. Later that afternoon, a snowman build at Uncle's turned bust, so we had a snowball fight instead.
Fri, Dec 28th- Another cleaning and playing day in. Our house is in transition, lots of little projects :) That night we had our final Christmas at my Grandma's house. The kids were nuts, like kids should be when playing with cousins their age. My personal highlight was watching them play with this crappy old ring toss set that I played with as a child.
Sat, Dec 29th- Um, kind of amazing. I spent the morning helping Ray make a real Lego fire truck. He did so much better than I was expecting. In the early afternoon we went sledding with the family and some friends at my parents' house. I didn't think the snow was right for it, but once we got a few runs in, it was perfect. Despite a few temper tantrums, the boys had a blast. Lack of sleds led us to inflate a queen sized air mattress for group rides down the hill. We got about 8 runs before we intentionally crashed it into a bush, poking a rather large hole in the mattress. We dried off and warmed up to soup, blankets, and The Avengers on a crazy high def TV. I can't remember the last time we had the whole family together like that for a movie night. It was just so cozy and nice. Even my dad watched.
Sun, Dec 30th- I was supposed to leave for a few hours to play music with some friends, but I couldn't bring myself to leave the boys. We didn't do much. Watched some shows, built more Legos, Eliz helped them make some plastic melting bead animal crafts. It was just comforting to spend every last minute with them that I could before they were picked up.
And in a flash, they were gone.
It was one of the best weeks I've had in a long time. A real vacation from work, surrounded by the most important people in my life. It gives me hope for where I am. Makes me happy, neigh, joyous for what I have. I've got a really good girl in my life. I've got two healthy, weird little boys, and I got to spend a week with them. I've got two really good jobs. I've got a lot of neat toys. I've got a little hope where for a long time I've had none.
Talk to me two years ago at this time, and I'd say I had a lot for which to be thankful. And I did. I also had a great deal to overcome. A lot of things were pretty horrible. Now I start 2013, and I think it is going to be a pretty good year. Maybe it's more accurate to say that things have been going really well lately and I'm excited at the prospect of more to come.
So, what I really intend to write about is my vacation. It was a great one, and I want to document a few of the highlights. Selfishly, I admit this is more of a diary than a blog (in case you hadn't already noticed) and this post specifically I write in order to remember.
Mon, Dec 24 2012- Most unorthodox start to a Christmas eve I've ever had. Spent the night in NW OH to visit some friends and then to be able to pick up my boys first thing in the morning. I had them for a week, and I was excited to start Christmas. Not before waking up at 4:30a for a 6a Bootcamp in Fostoria. I was told wake up call was 4:50, so I was sure to be waiting behind the door with a Batman mask on to scare the shit out of my buddy. Chuckles were had. After a 2000's pop mix Bootcamp with a potentially scary drill instructor type, I packed up and brought my boys back home. We swung by for Elizabeth and went to my parents' for Christmas eve. It was a nice afternoon, eating, conversing, seeing my both my Grandmas. We headed home early evening so the boys could get their first (and biggest) gift: bunk beds. They were jazzed and begged to go to bed at 7a. I took that as a high compliment.
Tues, Dec 25- I maaaay have awoken at 3:30a, unable to sleep due to the excitement of having my boys in the next room on Christmas morning. I got them up at 4 with Eliz and we opened our stockings from Santa. The room was lit only by our tree and my signature C7 color painted glass bulbs. There is a certain beauty in the simplicity of stockings. They had no big gifts to open at our place, but were so jazzed at the nerf guns, Uno cards, Bubble Tape, etc. Awesome. We headed to my parents bright and early around 5:18 and opened gifts. Yes, there were a lot of great things given, Guitars, Bruce, record players to name a few. The room was awash with gifts. My mom is nuts. My dad is nuts. Love them. We proceeded to "Miss Sherry's" house where Santa brought the super hero box filled with villains. It was great getting to share Christmas day with both families and with the boys.
Wed, Dec 26th- I put on my Dad hat, and we had an organization day. Every Christmas brings a whole new set of colored plastics to my house, and I usually purge quite a bit to make room for the influx. I had my boys be part of the process, and to my surprise, they rose to the occasion. We filled several large bags full of old toys that they chose to donate to those in need. By midday, their room was organized, cleaned, and ready for play time. We spent most of the day trying out new toys. I'm here to say that after a week, they still kept the room clean. Not bad for a 4 and 6 year old. This evening we had Aunt, Uncle and Cousin over to see their room and play with the Hexbugs they got them for Christmas. Capped it all off with a big family game of Uno. Awesome.
Thurs, Dec 27th- I want to say this was the day we went out haha. The weather was so snowy that we had a lot of days in. I didn't mind. After going to Costco and scoring some Winter boots 'n such, we went to lunch at Red Robin with my mom and one of my best friends from school. It was great to catch up. I miss him. Later that afternoon, a snowman build at Uncle's turned bust, so we had a snowball fight instead.
Fri, Dec 28th- Another cleaning and playing day in. Our house is in transition, lots of little projects :) That night we had our final Christmas at my Grandma's house. The kids were nuts, like kids should be when playing with cousins their age. My personal highlight was watching them play with this crappy old ring toss set that I played with as a child.
Sat, Dec 29th- Um, kind of amazing. I spent the morning helping Ray make a real Lego fire truck. He did so much better than I was expecting. In the early afternoon we went sledding with the family and some friends at my parents' house. I didn't think the snow was right for it, but once we got a few runs in, it was perfect. Despite a few temper tantrums, the boys had a blast. Lack of sleds led us to inflate a queen sized air mattress for group rides down the hill. We got about 8 runs before we intentionally crashed it into a bush, poking a rather large hole in the mattress. We dried off and warmed up to soup, blankets, and The Avengers on a crazy high def TV. I can't remember the last time we had the whole family together like that for a movie night. It was just so cozy and nice. Even my dad watched.
Sun, Dec 30th- I was supposed to leave for a few hours to play music with some friends, but I couldn't bring myself to leave the boys. We didn't do much. Watched some shows, built more Legos, Eliz helped them make some plastic melting bead animal crafts. It was just comforting to spend every last minute with them that I could before they were picked up.
And in a flash, they were gone.
It was one of the best weeks I've had in a long time. A real vacation from work, surrounded by the most important people in my life. It gives me hope for where I am. Makes me happy, neigh, joyous for what I have. I've got a really good girl in my life. I've got two healthy, weird little boys, and I got to spend a week with them. I've got two really good jobs. I've got a lot of neat toys. I've got a little hope where for a long time I've had none.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Merry *&%$#ing Christmas!
I've been planning this blog for over a week. Therefore naturally, as I sit down to write it, nothing is flowing easily. That's what she said.
I'll be the first to admit; I'm a particular guy and a lot of things seem to piss me off. Abnormally so, and with the help of good-hearted and patient people around me, I work to calm myself down. I'll blame it on Italian. In particular this season, it has been the hubbub surrounding the "reason for the season", Jesus vs. Gifty gifts, commercialism as a bad thing, and the like.
Allow me to lay some ground work. I think a lot of current commercial notions and promotions of Christmas would make Jesus roll over in his grave... I can't stand nearly all modern Christmas music, I want to punch stores collectively in the face for over a month of steady Red and Green barrage, and yes, you Black Friday bargain hunters are both thrifty and absolutely out of your damn minds. To boot, I am what Christians would recognize as an apostate, which tends to make loving some of my favorite Christmas (read: worship) songs a little awkward.
Alas, I am what I am, and to get to my point in the fourth paragraph (Mr. Paynter would be so disappointed), year in and year out, Christmas is the single best and most important day in American culture. Or at least my little slice of it.
Zealous Christian types, before you get your hopes up about this post, allow me to reaffirm that it is despite your efforts to ruin my holiday that I enjoy, neigh thrive on its existence. And for general audiences, without diving too deeply into historical roots of this winter holiday, pagan ties, church agendas, etc., allow me for the purposes of this blog to dismiss them as irrelevant. This blog is about how Christmas affects my family and I. How it affects my culture. How it perhaps affects you.
Oh my gorsh, this is such a complex topic. Let me keep it down to anger and joy. Anger that church would use it as piggy back marketing*, as an excuse to segregate themselves by defining themselves as Jesus focused while us degenerates focus on presents, as... well, these things tend to sound better in threes, but I appeared to have wrapped it up in my second point. Joy. Joy in spending a month hunting for the best way to use my little budget to put the biggest smiles possible on the faces of those closest to me. Joy, in knowing that for a day, most people are outward focused, excited more about the happiness they bring to others than the happiness they will receive themselves. Joy that society will behave in a bit more of a civil manner (i.e. I will not cuss and gesture towards drivers whose heads can be found in their very asses.) Joy in knowing that this year I get to spend Christmas morning with my children, who slept lightly in the next room waiting for Santa. Joy that my Dad would give so much to see the faces of my brother and I as we open up our matching Eddie Van Halen signature guitars. Joy that my Mom would go completely overboard on food and presents so that every last person in her house knew, scratch that, felt, owned, imbibed, lived that it was Christmas that day.
Listen, I know I'm coming off as grumpy with a lot of what I've written, but it's because my Facebook news feed is pissing in my Wheaties. It's because people are actually confused as to weather they can say Happy Holidays or Merry Christmas. It's because I want my favorite day back. Christmas is C7 painted colored glass bulbs illuminating the room as I steal a kiss from my woman. Not sleeping the night before and waking up at 3:30 to get shit started. It's about lying for a month, then spending all day Christmas telling people how you lied to them in order to maintain the surprise of their gifts. It's about family, it's about the best in people, it's about love.
If you tie that to thanking god for the birth of your savior, excellent. Just keep out of my Wheaties.
* I posit that Christmas has grown beyond the ostensible intentions of the Church to celebrate the birth of Christ, and has morphed into a social construct more similar to the one as laid out by my rant.
I'll be the first to admit; I'm a particular guy and a lot of things seem to piss me off. Abnormally so, and with the help of good-hearted and patient people around me, I work to calm myself down. I'll blame it on Italian. In particular this season, it has been the hubbub surrounding the "reason for the season", Jesus vs. Gifty gifts, commercialism as a bad thing, and the like.
Allow me to lay some ground work. I think a lot of current commercial notions and promotions of Christmas would make Jesus roll over in his grave... I can't stand nearly all modern Christmas music, I want to punch stores collectively in the face for over a month of steady Red and Green barrage, and yes, you Black Friday bargain hunters are both thrifty and absolutely out of your damn minds. To boot, I am what Christians would recognize as an apostate, which tends to make loving some of my favorite Christmas (read: worship) songs a little awkward.
Alas, I am what I am, and to get to my point in the fourth paragraph (Mr. Paynter would be so disappointed), year in and year out, Christmas is the single best and most important day in American culture. Or at least my little slice of it.
Zealous Christian types, before you get your hopes up about this post, allow me to reaffirm that it is despite your efforts to ruin my holiday that I enjoy, neigh thrive on its existence. And for general audiences, without diving too deeply into historical roots of this winter holiday, pagan ties, church agendas, etc., allow me for the purposes of this blog to dismiss them as irrelevant. This blog is about how Christmas affects my family and I. How it affects my culture. How it perhaps affects you.
Oh my gorsh, this is such a complex topic. Let me keep it down to anger and joy. Anger that church would use it as piggy back marketing*, as an excuse to segregate themselves by defining themselves as Jesus focused while us degenerates focus on presents, as... well, these things tend to sound better in threes, but I appeared to have wrapped it up in my second point. Joy. Joy in spending a month hunting for the best way to use my little budget to put the biggest smiles possible on the faces of those closest to me. Joy, in knowing that for a day, most people are outward focused, excited more about the happiness they bring to others than the happiness they will receive themselves. Joy that society will behave in a bit more of a civil manner (i.e. I will not cuss and gesture towards drivers whose heads can be found in their very asses.) Joy in knowing that this year I get to spend Christmas morning with my children, who slept lightly in the next room waiting for Santa. Joy that my Dad would give so much to see the faces of my brother and I as we open up our matching Eddie Van Halen signature guitars. Joy that my Mom would go completely overboard on food and presents so that every last person in her house knew, scratch that, felt, owned, imbibed, lived that it was Christmas that day.
Listen, I know I'm coming off as grumpy with a lot of what I've written, but it's because my Facebook news feed is pissing in my Wheaties. It's because people are actually confused as to weather they can say Happy Holidays or Merry Christmas. It's because I want my favorite day back. Christmas is C7 painted colored glass bulbs illuminating the room as I steal a kiss from my woman. Not sleeping the night before and waking up at 3:30 to get shit started. It's about lying for a month, then spending all day Christmas telling people how you lied to them in order to maintain the surprise of their gifts. It's about family, it's about the best in people, it's about love.
If you tie that to thanking god for the birth of your savior, excellent. Just keep out of my Wheaties.
* I posit that Christmas has grown beyond the ostensible intentions of the Church to celebrate the birth of Christ, and has morphed into a social construct more similar to the one as laid out by my rant.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Who am I.
I am an asshole.
At least it seems that way sometimes.
Just got back from dinner with a friend. A dear friend. We got in a big fight awhile back over some stupid things. But really we were fighting about a decade of us not meshing. We just never really let it come to a head before. I thought us meeting up was going to be a chance to apologize, catch up, converse like men. But he showed up with friends and wanted to hang out as if nothing ever happened.
I had expectations, I planned my evening around it. I was inconvenienced. He asked me when we could hang out again to get a chance to chat. I, with great lack of emotion, told him "I don't know" and walked away. I probably hurt him. He hurt me too. Misunderstanding will probably prevent a timely reconciliation. And if I'm honest, in this moment I don't care.
If I do the basic science, the basic math, I find that I am the only constant in a string of equations that equal broken relationships of one kind or another. Maybe I'm letting people off the hook, maybe I'm an asshole. It's hard to judge. People close to me say it's other people's fault. I'm sure the other halves of the broken relationships would say otherwise.
I sat down to write some song lyrics in a journal a dear friend gave me before I left on a year-long journey to Chile. As I looked at the pictures and mementos she included, I lost my desire to write music. I felt as though I should just write. Be sober, not filter, just think on paper.
I miss her friendship. I miss my asshole friend who avoided having a real heart to heart chat today over some beers and pizza. I miss an old friend whom I unwittingly caused a lot of real grief. I miss innocence. I no longer have the luxury of innocence.
Maybe that is why I struggle. I am no longer innocent. I am too old, too wise, and have had too many chances to be forgiven. I miss what seems like a former life of being Mike, the guy who could do no wrong. I feel mortal now. I'm not an exemption, I'm not special, and it makes me feel dead.
Maybe I've lost touch with reality. Maybe I'm finally standing up for myself. Whatever the case may be, something just doesn't feel right. I'm missing something, and I don't think it's god. I think I want my friends back. But was I the one that drove them away in the first place?
At least it seems that way sometimes.
Just got back from dinner with a friend. A dear friend. We got in a big fight awhile back over some stupid things. But really we were fighting about a decade of us not meshing. We just never really let it come to a head before. I thought us meeting up was going to be a chance to apologize, catch up, converse like men. But he showed up with friends and wanted to hang out as if nothing ever happened.
I had expectations, I planned my evening around it. I was inconvenienced. He asked me when we could hang out again to get a chance to chat. I, with great lack of emotion, told him "I don't know" and walked away. I probably hurt him. He hurt me too. Misunderstanding will probably prevent a timely reconciliation. And if I'm honest, in this moment I don't care.
If I do the basic science, the basic math, I find that I am the only constant in a string of equations that equal broken relationships of one kind or another. Maybe I'm letting people off the hook, maybe I'm an asshole. It's hard to judge. People close to me say it's other people's fault. I'm sure the other halves of the broken relationships would say otherwise.
I sat down to write some song lyrics in a journal a dear friend gave me before I left on a year-long journey to Chile. As I looked at the pictures and mementos she included, I lost my desire to write music. I felt as though I should just write. Be sober, not filter, just think on paper.
I miss her friendship. I miss my asshole friend who avoided having a real heart to heart chat today over some beers and pizza. I miss an old friend whom I unwittingly caused a lot of real grief. I miss innocence. I no longer have the luxury of innocence.
Maybe that is why I struggle. I am no longer innocent. I am too old, too wise, and have had too many chances to be forgiven. I miss what seems like a former life of being Mike, the guy who could do no wrong. I feel mortal now. I'm not an exemption, I'm not special, and it makes me feel dead.
Maybe I've lost touch with reality. Maybe I'm finally standing up for myself. Whatever the case may be, something just doesn't feel right. I'm missing something, and I don't think it's god. I think I want my friends back. But was I the one that drove them away in the first place?
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Never again
I had built my general world outlook on one simple principle. At heart, people are good, and if given the chance, they can be trusted. *warning- you are in dangerous proximity to an emotion fueled rant about my ex.
It's been a year since I've read over my divorce decree. At the time it was all taking place, I had made some foolish decisions which led to my underemployment. I had no money. With help of her family she had hired a lawyer, ostracized me from my children and home, and found a technicality which allowed her to move to northern Ohio with our children.
At the time I felt helpless. I couldn't afford representation. Even if I could I refused, money spent on lawyers was better spent on our children I surmised. So when restraining orders, support orders, notifications of relocation, modified custody orders reducing standard visitation, support modifications and the like poured in, all I could do was grin and bear it.
Now, with time passed, I'm realizing that I'm dealing with someone who has no capacity for compromise. Someone who is incapable of admitting wrongs. Someone who has been told she is right for so long, that she has lost all construct for seeing otherwise.
I wronged this woman. I did. Rather than break it off years earlier than I did, I stuck around. I let my frustration build and watched our love die and pretended it was all ok. When it came to a head, she was surprised and hurt. While I feel I had adequate reason to be just as hurt, I know I hurt her, and we should have had a knock down drag out fight about it. About each other. About how poor our relationship really was. But that fight never happened.
She lawyered up. Instead of calling me names and smacking me in the face, she hit me where she knew it would hurt: my children. Suddenly words like "visitation" were in conversations. Then conversations couldn't even happen without lawyers present. She did well, she struck blows that cut me to the core even to this day. She is an artful assassin.
But her ways are blunt, crude, unrefined. It's the Hiroshima approach. While her retaliation caused me maximum devastation, there was collateral damage. The worst damage of all in my opinion.
I find myself constantly asking why she can't attack me, just me? Why does every bicker have to involve our children? What good did it do for her to move back home to regain her family support? Is it a good that outweighs our children regularly having their father in their lives?
This latest rant comes from our latest discussion over custody. My work schedule cutting into my time with the boys, and her being unable/unwilling to make adjustments thus limiting my already short time with them.
While there exist an endless array of word groupings I could use to describe her, she is simply no longer deserving of my time. My true concern and heart goes to my children, my amazing boys. I'll never know why you were thrust into this situation that separates us, but I hate it. I love you more than you know. I want you back. I want you with me. I want you home. God dammit.
It's been a year since I've read over my divorce decree. At the time it was all taking place, I had made some foolish decisions which led to my underemployment. I had no money. With help of her family she had hired a lawyer, ostracized me from my children and home, and found a technicality which allowed her to move to northern Ohio with our children.
At the time I felt helpless. I couldn't afford representation. Even if I could I refused, money spent on lawyers was better spent on our children I surmised. So when restraining orders, support orders, notifications of relocation, modified custody orders reducing standard visitation, support modifications and the like poured in, all I could do was grin and bear it.
Now, with time passed, I'm realizing that I'm dealing with someone who has no capacity for compromise. Someone who is incapable of admitting wrongs. Someone who has been told she is right for so long, that she has lost all construct for seeing otherwise.
I wronged this woman. I did. Rather than break it off years earlier than I did, I stuck around. I let my frustration build and watched our love die and pretended it was all ok. When it came to a head, she was surprised and hurt. While I feel I had adequate reason to be just as hurt, I know I hurt her, and we should have had a knock down drag out fight about it. About each other. About how poor our relationship really was. But that fight never happened.
She lawyered up. Instead of calling me names and smacking me in the face, she hit me where she knew it would hurt: my children. Suddenly words like "visitation" were in conversations. Then conversations couldn't even happen without lawyers present. She did well, she struck blows that cut me to the core even to this day. She is an artful assassin.
But her ways are blunt, crude, unrefined. It's the Hiroshima approach. While her retaliation caused me maximum devastation, there was collateral damage. The worst damage of all in my opinion.
I find myself constantly asking why she can't attack me, just me? Why does every bicker have to involve our children? What good did it do for her to move back home to regain her family support? Is it a good that outweighs our children regularly having their father in their lives?
This latest rant comes from our latest discussion over custody. My work schedule cutting into my time with the boys, and her being unable/unwilling to make adjustments thus limiting my already short time with them.
While there exist an endless array of word groupings I could use to describe her, she is simply no longer deserving of my time. My true concern and heart goes to my children, my amazing boys. I'll never know why you were thrust into this situation that separates us, but I hate it. I love you more than you know. I want you back. I want you with me. I want you home. God dammit.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Writing and I have a love-hate thing.
Once, in sixth grade, we were told to free write for 2-3 minutes. Just write anything that comes to mind, my teacher said, and if you get a pause or mental block, literally write "roadblock" on the page. I naturally feigned a pause in creativity to form sentences such as "I was running down the street when I accidentally tripped over a...roadblock."
Oh to have that swagger tonight.
I sit to arrange, color, and write lyrics for a song this fine pre-summer evening, and I find myself conflicted as to what I want the song to be. And, sho nuff, the song also sounds conflicted. My music often shifts gears, probably more than the average bear would like, but this song is sounding like The White Album if it were recorded by anyone other than the Beatles.
I want to pull the trigger on one direction. I want it to be edgy and daring. Alas, I keep hearing flutes and freedom music. The trouble is, the contrasting musical styles are meshing very well, but the juxtaposition of edgy lyrics and wishy wash is coming off like bad Linkin Park. The finished product will sound clean, but anything beyond a casual listen will reveal how completely nonsensical the lyrics are. What do I do? Where does my swagger come from?
The crazy thing is, I know I'll make it work. And I know I won't have to compromise the integrity of what I want. It's just funny how some nights it just flies off the cuff with ease, and nights like tonight I find myself crashing my musical car into a... roadblock.
Oh to have that swagger tonight.
I sit to arrange, color, and write lyrics for a song this fine pre-summer evening, and I find myself conflicted as to what I want the song to be. And, sho nuff, the song also sounds conflicted. My music often shifts gears, probably more than the average bear would like, but this song is sounding like The White Album if it were recorded by anyone other than the Beatles.
I want to pull the trigger on one direction. I want it to be edgy and daring. Alas, I keep hearing flutes and freedom music. The trouble is, the contrasting musical styles are meshing very well, but the juxtaposition of edgy lyrics and wishy wash is coming off like bad Linkin Park. The finished product will sound clean, but anything beyond a casual listen will reveal how completely nonsensical the lyrics are. What do I do? Where does my swagger come from?
The crazy thing is, I know I'll make it work. And I know I won't have to compromise the integrity of what I want. It's just funny how some nights it just flies off the cuff with ease, and nights like tonight I find myself crashing my musical car into a... roadblock.
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