Author: Josh

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Monthly Maly Letter: Month five

Dear Maly,

You turned five-months-old today. You’ve had quite an eventful month. We started out the month by flying to Des Moines for your baptism. You were cleansed of the original sin and now I’m compelled to call you Moddy Eedizibud.

The Sunday after your baptism, while lying on your back on your grandparents’ living room floor, you rolled completely over onto your stomach and then pushed your body up off of the floor with your arms. You wouldn’t believe the squeals and applause that this event garnered. Your mom and grandparents were pretty impressed, too.

Traveling to Des Moines meant that you were able to experience flying in an airplane for the first time. I was worried that you would be afraid of the bumping as the plane took off, the change in cabin pressure or the turbulence. Just as the plane began accelerating for take off, you conked out in my arms and slept nearly the entire way. I like to think I protected you by holding you.

The plane ride home wasn’t as calm and uneventful. I’m not going to name names here but your mom thought it would be a good idea to book our returning flight during your “witching hour”. You screamed, squirmed and complained for the duration of the first leg of the flight home. There was a twenty-something childless couple sitting a few rows ahead of us and they both looked back at me every time you started to whimper. Using my honed non-verbal confrontational communication method I warned that should either of them looked back as us again I would smash their faces in with one of my flip flops.

When we arrived home, we maintained your regular night time ritual by bathing you and putting you in bed by 8 p.m. but instead of putting you down in your cradle by your mom’s side of the bed, we put you in your crib. In your OWN ROOM. I didn’t sleep well at all that night. I missed you.

We’ve been feeding you new foods now. We started you on rice cereal at the beginning of your fifth month and oatmeal just today. You’ve taken both very well. Your mom is still better at feeding you than I am. I get more on you than in you.

Two weekends ago your mom went to the store alone while you and I hung out at the house. You and I are both prone to going stir crazy so I decided we need to go for a walk.

With you in tote I grabbed your Jeep stroller and lugged the both of you to your mom’s and my bedroom to get prepared for our stroll. I propped you up tripod-style on the floor near me so I could unfold the stroller. I stood up, turned toward the stroller and immediately felt the urge to turn back to check on you. When I did, I saw the beginning of your ungraceful face plant. I was a foot too far and a nanosecond too late. You had already toppled and on the way down, you whacked your head against the wooden TV stand. I knew what was coming next so I immediately scooped you up, cradled you and kissed you and kissed you and kissed you and promised that that would never happen again. You cried that distinct cry that bitterly reminded me that I neglected you for a fraction of a second. I clenched my eyes, softly squeezed you against my body and kissed you again like it might be my last chance to hold you. You stopped crying. You knew that I was there to protect you.

You are such an unbelievable little person now. You talk and sing and giggle and every day I just want to hug you so hard that you permeate my chest and sink into my heart where I can protect you forever.

I will always protect you, Sugar.

Love,

Daddy

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Beautiful letdown

I’ve been a huge fan of the band Tool for the better part of 13 years. I quietly and anxiously waited to hear of a local tour date supporting the release of the album 10,000 Days. When tour dates were released, I made note and two months later, with credit card in hand, I purchased two tickets for the show at the Cynthia Woods Mitchell Pavilion in the Woodlands.

Elise and I saw Tool at the CWMP five years ago and to date, that was the best concert that I have ever attended. It was a show in every sense. The stage was set with video screens that methodically displayed images of life, death, science, the occult, religion, philosophy and what a third eye might find appealing. There were actors dressed as aliens who decended from the top of the stage from ropes, released upon the stage and danced. The music was dulcet, raw, pounding and soothing. We sat there on the grassy knoll and shared a 16 oz. Miller Lite, Buffalo Wings from Hooters and a jaw dropping, mesmerizing performance from one of my favorite bands.

This past Monday I expected nothing less than aural ecstacy from Tool. My parents watched Maly for the evening and everything was set for a perfect evening of entertainment.

We arrived at the Pavilion on time. We had to wait in line for 45 minute while two older men used hand held metal detectors to scan, one by one, the thousands of people in line. Once to the gate we were informed that we couldn’t bring our binoculars with us.

“We brought our binoculars with us five years ago”, I contended to no avail.

We found “our spot” where we stood five years ago. A nice area in the grass in the general admission area of the pavilion. The intro began, the lights dimmed and before we knew it, Tool released itself upon the crowd. Kind of. The kid behind us began his own drunken beer slinging mosh and within seconds the bouncers had him with his arms pinned behind him and escorted away.

The band just wasn’t there. There was no energy. I had read on Tool’s fan site that Maynard had been sick the night before. That obviously carried over into the Houston show. It was a disappointing performance. Halfway through the set, Maynard asked for a moment of silence from the crowd to remember those who lost their lives on September 11th. There was no moment of silence. There were screams from the pit and a guy far stage left who screamed, “SMOKE POT”. I’ve never wanted to punch a total stranger more than at that moment.

Elise was having a hard time seeing, she also immediately noted the lack of energy from the singer and the cigarette smoke was getting to her. She offered to go stand in line to buy us a couple beers. She waited in line for half an hour and when she was two people away from ordering, the concession stands were closed. At 10 p.m. beer sales were closed.

Cigarettes and the smell of marijuana and the drunk people — now I understand why Kenny G. gained so much notoriety. It’s the likes of adult contemporary who us 30-somethings turn to when we can no longer stand the wafts of patchouli and pot, the sight of strangers’ sweat, exposed skin and tattoos that will be the source of regret in six months, or the notion of irritated and anxious crowds who strive to be entertained.

There were a few of us out there: the long-time fans who never bothered with cultivating a MySpace identity. I nodded and they nodded back. We were the ones who also left before the encore and listened to the final song as we whisked back to our cars to avoid the crowd before the show ended.

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Fat lip

Note to self:
Keep your hands up when you spar a 25-year-old fourth-degree black belt.
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Glorious punches to the yarbles

Yesterday morning I got an email from my boss stating that the company that is buying the company I’ve ran for the past three years will not be needing my services in any form after this Friday. I thought I was positioned to help in the transition and have at least another month of employment.

As soon as I finished reading that email I started breathing like Tony Soprano (the fictional Mafioso character, not my fish), my stomach knotted and my heart began beating faster than normal.

I was furious all day yesterday. I half-assed worked out at Tae Kwon Do last night. After a long day I came home and started my bedtime ritual with Maly. I bathed her and put a clean diaper on her. During this time Elise and I were “discussing” my current situation, mood, and plans for the future. It was at the point when I was dressing Maly in her pajamas where I found it necessary to reach my penultimate, volatile point in my self-absorbed malevolence. I yelled at Elise and used obscenities that not only should a five-month-old not hear, but also not a 31-year-old wife.

Elise understood my frustration and played the role of my unintentional, verbal punching bag. I calmed down and we talked more. I fell asleep peacefully last night after being calmed down.

I woke up and went to work today. It was late in the morning when I found solace again. I stopped whatever it was that I was doing and realized that we’ll be okay. So, I’m losing my job. I won’t lose my relationship with my wife or my daughter or any of my family or friends. I won’t lose my house. I will have lost my 1 GB thumb drive that had my resume and coverletter on it because it will have fallen out of my front left pocket somewhere during the Labor Day weekend. We will be okay. I came to terms with that today. I’ve been overly exacerbated because of losing my job and having been the provider for five months. But late this morning a glowing, pillowy goo of goodness and serenity engulfed me and pulsed a bright white light as if to say, “Take all the time you need. Things will be fine. No worries. You will prosper beyond anything you’ve ever imagined. SHIT! The cops!!! Put that away and roll down the windows. Nevermind.”

Things are going to be okay for us.

My two hourly employees called me at home tonight within half an hour of each other to tell me that they’re both quitting. I encouraged them both to stay and ride out the next two days. That’s they’re decision to make.

I don’t know about everyone else, but mine are going to be okay.

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High demand gonads

“The mentality that I had going into interviews was that I didn’t need the job.  It’s kind of like when you like a girl, you don’t show her that you like her, then she wants your nuts real bad.”

“I’m sooo going to go to my next interview and say, “You want these nuts, don’t you?””

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Six days

The company is moving the weekend of September 8th.  That’s next Friday.  This week I’ve been training the marketing and IT folks who will be taking over.  Saying that the past few days have been rough is an understatement and coming to the realization that the company will only be around for six more days is jolting.

I have very few job leads and an answering machine that blinks with calls from corporate recruiters who sound like strip club DJs — not that I would know what a strip club DJ sounds like.

I wonder how much a strip club DJ makes.

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Stargazing

Last Friday we went stargazing at the Wild Basin Wilderness Preserve. We showed up 15 minutes late and joined a raucous group of Adventure Girls, Wild Basin Wilderness Preserve volunteers and two member of the University of Texas Astronomy Club. We viewed Vega and Jupiter from three telescopes just outside the Preserve’s main building. At 8:30 we were instructed to finish up our stargazing, gather our belongings and begin forming a line at the beginning of the trail behind us. It was at that point that I hauled ass back down to the parking lot to get Maly’s stroller. I hurried back through the gravel parking lot, through a mini trail, up two flights of stairs, over a bridge, through another trail, battled two tree-perched ninjas and finally met Elise and Maly to begin our tour of whatever it was that we were going to be touring in the dark on this rocky trail. We put Maly in her stroller and made after the rest of the group that had a good head start on us. We hurried to catch up with the others, along the way Maly was bouncing around in her stroller as I plowed over rocks and limbs. If she grows up to be a normal physical funtioning human I will be surprised after the jarring I subjected her to on the trail. We finally caught up with the rest of the group as they were circling the end of the trail and heading back to the Preserve. I still have no idea why we were guided down that trail after dark. My guess is that there were members of the UT Astronomy Club hiding in the bushes attempting to recruit Adventure Girls. Thankfully we showed up late and dodged the $3 per person fee otherwise I would’ve had the Preserve pay for Maly’s accupuncture therapy.

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The dream you dream you’ll never have

It was previously decided that upon our return from Des Moines on Sunday, we would start putting Maly to sleep in her crib and employ the baby monitor. Up until this point Maly had been sleeping in a cradle that her maternal Grandpa made for her.

I didn’t sleep well that night. Not well at all. I don’t think Elise slept well either.

On Monday night we recounted our individual experiences from the night prior.

It was pitch black in our bedroom. We were both lying on our backs, ready for sleep.

“Oh, hey!”

“Hmm?”

“I had a really weird dream last night.”

“Oh, yeah. What happened?”

“We were sitting on the floor in our bedroom with a couple of our friends. I said, ‘Hey! Y’all listen to this’. The room fell silent as I grabbed the baby monitor. I turned the monitor up as loud as it would go and giggled as I whispered, ‘Shhhhh. Listen.’

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. We heard the baby’s heartbeat. We could all hear the baby breathing, too.

Then there was a something like a growl. We all fell dead silent and everyone’s eyes got huge. Then a sudden thump, a fraction of a whimper and then silence from the monitor. Something was in her room and…”

“Uuuggh!!! Why did you have to have THAT dream?!?!”

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Turkey legs and holy water

I took Thursday and Friday of last week off so we could spend a long weekend in Des Moines for Maly’s baptism and to visit with Elise’s family.

Steve and Joanne picked us up from the airport and engulfed Maly in the fighting-for-possession-grandparent-death-hug. It was fun to watch and we couldn’t blame them; they hadn’t seen Maly since she was two weeks old.

We drove over to Elise’s parents’ house just in time to catch up with Grandma T. and break in Steve’s new gas grill with some salmon filets and put Maly to sleep. After dinner Steve and I went to Dahl’s for a bottle of scotch and returned to the house so the girls could go to the grocery store for less important things like actual groceries. The men stayed back in case Maly woke up. When the girls got home we all congregated in the kitchen and talked until 2 a.m.

We got a late start on Friday. Grandma came over with bagels from Panera and Steve cooked bratwursts on the grill. After dilly dallying until noon, Elise and I left Maly with her Great, Gran and Grandpa and we had a day to ourselves at the Iowa State Fair. We walked the Grand Concourse and took a ride on the Skyglider when we first arrived. I don’t remember where all we went but we went into a little flea market area and to a barn to see the 3090 lb. Brangus bull. We went to another barn to hear a children’s joke telling contest. We went to a building to view all of the photography submissions on exhibit. I think it was at that point that we needed some state fair grub. I have to have a smoked turkey leg at a fair to remind myself of why I rarely eat turkey legs. Elise sat down to a pork chop sandwich, apple sauce and pork and beans. We stayed out of the heat long enough to regroup and head back out into the crowd. We went on a boat ride through “Ye Old Mill” – a pitch black and slow ride that lends itself to complete blindness and bruised foreheads for those seeking to endulge in the way of the smoochiness.

It was getting late at that point. We walked around the fairway for a while and mosied among the people who should not be legally permitted to wear shorts in public. We stopped and bought ice cream and sat on the curb to watch more people. We decided to call it a night and head home. We walked all the way down Capitol Ave. to find that we parked Joanne’s car in front of a fire hydrant. We had a ticket waiting for us under the windshield wiper.

We drove back to Steve and Joanne’s where they all ate sandwiches. I was still full from my charred jumbo yard bird leg. We stayed up late again and talked a lot about my current job situation. We hashed a lot of things over and I heard some great and reassuring stories from Steve and Joanne. Then it was off to bed.

Elise and her mom went to a baby shower that Elise’s childhood friends threw for her. I’m certain they cooed and giggled and frolicked and talked about how sexy Elise’s husband is. While they all did that, Steve and I went to pick up some ink jet cartridges and then to Zook’s to check out some iron horses. I’m eyeing an Ultra Classic Electra Glide. After oggling over motorcycles we headed back to the house for a late lunch and to wait for the girls to come home.

Once the girls got home, we drove Sacred Heart in West Des Moines for mass and for Maly to be baptised. For the majority of the mass I had to walk around the lobby of the church because my horns kept poking out daughter started making a fuss. While distracting Maly by walking around and peeking my head back into church, Heather’s little daughter, Juliet started following me around. She reached her hand up near where I was holding Maly next to the door and that’s where her hand found the holy water font. Juliet also just happened to have a temporary tattoo from the fair in her other hand.

“Can we use that water to put my tattoo on?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s holy water.”

“…”

“And because Jesus doesn’t like tattoos.”

“Why not?”

“I guess because he couldn’t afford one himself”

“…”

“…”
“Can we use this water to put my tattoo on?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Paybacks stink, don’t they? Come on… let’s use the sink in the bathroom.”

After mass a lot of Steve and Joanne’s friends and members of the church stayed for Maly’s baptism. The ceremony was performed by Father Remi who is from Nigeria. I grinned each time he said, “Brooduhs and seestuhs” and when he referred to my daughter as “Moddy Eedizibud”, I secretly wished that, even though it wouldn’t be of the same culture, that Father would have said “Hooray!”

After the cermony we all had a nice reception in the church’s meeting room. We had cold cuts, Hors D’oeuvres, punch, wine and cake.

After the reception we took Maly to Gran and Grandpa’s house to go to sleep. Elise and I drove over to Eric and Kim’s new house and talked in the living room until it was time to go to bed. Elise and I drove back to Steve and Joanne’s and went to bed.

We had a huge breakfast on the deck Sunday morning and the better part of the day was spent visiting with everyone. Steve and I spent a good while swapping all of the digital photos we had taken on separate cameras over the course of the weekend.

Sunday flew by and before we knew it, we were standing in the Des Moines airport saying goodbye to Steve and Joanne. The first leg of our flight coincided with Maly’s bath and bedtime so she let the plane know that she wasn’t happy with having to be on a plane. There was a couple sitting a few rows in front of us that glanced back at us whenever Maly would cry and give us “the look”. Said look is generally given by people who don’t have/like children and usually tend to warrant having their eyes gouged out with grapefruit spoons and fed to them with a habanero aioli.

The second leg of the flight from DFW to San Antonio was peaceful as Maly slept and we evesdropped on the ladies behind us who talked about theatre in Manhattan and foyers.

We didn’t get home until almost midnight and were both sad that a long, relaxing weekend had to come to an end.

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Monthly Maly Letter: Month four

Dear Maly,

You turned four-months-old this past week. You’ve become such a fun baby. Your personality is really starting to shine through and you’re an absolute blast to be around! Except when you cry. And when you insist on hiding the TiVo remote when Dog the Bounty Hunter is on.

You have reached many milestones this month. You laugh more and more each and every day. Your Mom is jealous because she tries all day to get you to laugh to no avail. When I come home, you and I have a regular gigglefest. You love it when I sing 80’s pop songs to you. Unlike your Mom, I know very few 80’s pop songs by heart so I have a feeling she will start winning you over soon. It’s wicked scary how astute your Mom is with 80’s music.

Nothing is more fun than making you laugh. You have a very dedicated laugh where you want to make others laugh with you. You also have a very shy laugh where you turn away and hide your giggles with your fist. You can be very bashful and it’s absolutely adorable. You’re very smitten with me and I call you on it all the time. And every time I do you try that much harder to hide it as you keep a constant check on me from the corner of your eye.

We took you swimming for the first time this month. It wasn’t really swimming, more like anxiously holding you in a $30 inflatable pool from Target as you splashed and giggled while we wondered if the mosquito larvae in the pool would creep into any of your orifices and conveniently turn you into a evil blood sucking alien when you reach the age of fourteen.

You have been really honing in on your motor skills this month. You grab and hold onto your feet now. You also hold onto most objects that we can fit into your hands, although, you don’t really know what you’re doing with your hands so it’s pretty painful to watch you jab your baby duck rattle into your eyeballs.

You’re very good at holding your head up now. You used to lay back and turn your head to take everything in. Now you’re much more determined and can lean forward in your car seat or swing so you can look at things at your leisure.

We don’t have the same evening schedule as we did last month. Now I bathe you at 7 p.m. and move you to our bedroom where I try to distract you with either 1) singing 80’s pop music or 2) some really weird song that I make up about Santa Clause renting a van and driving on the ocean floor with Jimi Hendrix to Transylvania to open a beauty salon called “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” while I put your diaper and pajamas on. After bathing and dressing you, your Mom or I have to rock you to sleep. You used to fall asleep while sitting up in my arms as I walked you about the house.

You discovered the joys drinking water just the past weekend. We went to your Grandma and Grandpa’s house and your Grandma let you drink from an icy glass of water. I don’t think you swallowed much of it but we could all tell you really liked that new sensation of something other than breast milk passing your lips. It was cute to watch you grab for the cup and bring it to your mouth and lick the outside of the vessel frantically until Grandma tilted it enough to let water reach your mouth. You’re such a determined little creature.

I love you more than ever and I know that that love can only grow exponentially as each minute passes. I want to see everything as new and innocent through your eyes as you grow and take in your new world. I want to taste water again for the first time and hold and protect and nurture you. I want to make sure that there is always a reason for you to giggle.

Never ever, ever, ever stop laughing. If not, I’ll have to stay alive that much longer to make sure you do.

I love you, junior.

Smooches,

Daddy

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Harry Potter my ass

Maly is going to be so enthralled when she’s old enough to realize that her Daddy was so cheap and thought that the free comic books he received in the mail today from the Federal Reserve Bank would be a source of entertainment for years for the entire family!

“Hey, Dad! After we read The Story of Foreign Trade and Exchange, can we go and watch The History of Spreadable Cheese Food Products at the IMAX again?”

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Stomach knots

I’m having a hard time putting into words the way that losing my job has emotionally broken me down. Last Wednesday while at the office I began composing an email to my boss to spill my guts and tell him that this situation has devastated me and that I should get more out of this deal. Sending that letter just didn’t feel right in my heart of hearts. It was at that point that I totally lost it. I locked myself in the front office and indulged in a break down. I called my Dad for advice and wound up talking to both of my parents for over an hour. They somewhat set my mind at ease but it doesn’t disolve the fact that I am being laid off.

I’m finding it very hard to start my job search. I’m in denial. I’ve been forced into this situation. I have an emotional attachment to my job and I’m being stripped of that.

Today is the day where I am to begin training the big company to take over operations. I woke up this morning and completely lost it again. I sank my head in my hands and broke down again. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this emotionally fucked up. I’ve never used the word fuck on this website so that’s how bad it’s been. I’m not myself. My stomach knots a lot now.  Every hour or so my eyes will just glass over and I can feel my heart sink and my eyes involutarily look down and the flow of serotonin ceases as my mind stops to focus on all that is bad in life right now.  And a Morrissey song is playing in the background.
I’ve experienced depression in the past and know that it will eventually pass. I hate being depressed.  It’s depressing.