Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Ballerina Kitty Cat

Lately, the Baby has been coming up to me and asking me a very simple, but profound question: "daddy, are you happy?"

I guess it's a feeling that doesn't get evaluated too often; we spend our days just going through the motions and fail to take the time to actually analyze our moods. Some of us are quick to react, get angry, upset or frustrated. Why can't more people be quick to laugh or smile or be quirky?

And then I take a step back and just listen to the Baby - listen to her talk to herself, listen to when she talks to me, listen to her laugh. Most of the time she doesn't even know what she is laughing about, she just knows laughing is fun.

Let her tell you a 'knock, knock' joke:

The Baby, "Knock, knock!"
Me: "Who's there?"
The Baby: "Orange"
Me: "Orange who?"
The Baby: "Ballerina, kitty cat,!" then she proceeds to laugh hysterically.

What the hell is going on in her brain. How does that joke make sense? Ballerina? Kitty cat? What about the orange?

But who cares. She's two. Almost three. And right now all she really knows is that I'm one of her best friends and she wants a purple themed birthday party.

That's simple. And that makes me happy.

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Happy Valentine's Day

My freshman year at Texas A&M, I hosted an anti-Valentine's Day internet radio show with my resident adviser from our dorm room using Winamp. We played songs about break ups and hating your girlfriends and stuff like that. My stream got up to an astounding 18 listeners before my computer would crash and I had to reboot and start all over. That was my last Valentine's Day as a single person. It turns out that I had one listener all the way up in Denton who would grow to become my groupie. Here's to my number 1 fan, the Wifey.

The Baby really wasn't feeling Valentine's this morning as she snubbed me of a kiss and a hug; she'll come around. I'll have ice cream.

The Wifey has raised the hypothetical question on how I would feel if the Baby decided that she wanted to be a lesbian. Right now it would be hard to grasp just because the Baby is too busy wearing princess gowns and putting on make up - but I guess that's how we stereotype gays and lesbians and try to cut them from the same cloth. But in the end it doesn't matter what you do or what you look like, who you love is who you love. Except in college when it's cool to experiment.

But that leads me to possibly the best song I have heard in quite awhile - it's from Macklemore & Ryan Lewis called "Same Love" and it's refreshing to have an artist use his talents as the vehicle to promote his moral beliefs and stand true to them. As much as I would love to torment and judge my daughter's future boyfriends, I think I can easily do the same to her girlfriends as well.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Expanding the Vocabulary

The Baby has recently incorporated two phrases to her ever-growing arsenal: "but..." and "do you remember?"

The latter isn't as prominent but she does use it in tandem with the former.

On the drive home from day care, the Baby asked me, "I can have ice cream. " to which I responded, "after dinner."

She then promptly replied, "but...but..." and I simply said, "no buts. after dinner."

The Baby grunted and quickly responded with, "but... you said I can have ice cream. do you remember?"

Now I have no idea what in the hell she was talking about but there is no winning an argument with a two year old. They will just repeat the same thing over and over again and eventually start crying. And five minutes later will start randomly singing songs and laughing. Pretty much sounds like the Wifey on her 21st birthday.

In other news, I think we have officially conquered potty training with only a few minor accidents. The Baby woke up in the middle of the night over the weekend and just started saying she had to go pee and off she went.

The only downside is that I have to physically inspect her shit in the toilet and applaud her. I even do a celebration shit dance. It's getting kinda annoying but I guess if it keeps the crap in the toilet and not her underwear, I shouldn't complain too much.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Scared Shitless

I guess it would be easiest to bluntly start off with the basis of this post. The Wifey had a miscarriage.

It was only last Thursday when the Wifey told me the Baby was going to become a big sister.  And the last week has been a whirlwind of emotions. But the most prominent feeling was that I was scared shitless.

I guess we could say the pregnancy itself was a surprise. If I could literally lay out everything that was on my mind, being a father again would be the extreme last thing. It would be the fat, un-athletic kid that gets picked for football. In fact, if someone were to put a percentage on the possibility of raising another child, it would be .01%.

The Wifey had an IUD (Mirena) implanted back when the Baby was born. Basically it's supposed to be this awesome form of birth control where it definitively eliminates the chance of me ever yelling the phrase, "what do you mean you happened to forget to take your pill this week?" And for almost three years, it was perfect.

But when the Wifey told me she was pregnant, I didn't know what to think. Maybe it was the initial shock but I wasn't angry. I wasn't sad that my social life was over again. I guess I'm such a strong believer in that everything happens for a reason, I took it as a sign. Maybe my indifference towards having another kid again solidified my acceptance by fate intervening and making the decision for me.

And over the weekend, the Wifey and I adjusted our life plans to accommodate the fourth. We even dubbed the little thing 'the Fighter' since it defied that .01% possibility and pulled a Danny Ocean and broke into the vault that held the Wifey's eggs. We discussed room arrangement, we went over how/when we would make the announcement. We even analyzed how the Baby would react. We prepared ourselves that the Fighter would be the exact opposite of the Baby. We braced ourselves for the Baby's extreme jealous rage for her mom and her toys.

It also happened that on Monday two of my co-workers announced they were expecting as well. And I guess I took that as a sign that everything would be okay. But the improbable fact that the Wifey was pregnant with an IUD implanted, it was an even higher improbability that the pregnancy would even be feasible. But yet we planned for the best. Or at least I did.

I could tell the Wifey was planning for the worst. I could tell her excitement was merely clouded by my excitement. Maybe she was only excited because I did want another kid. But I knew she was aware of the risks. The Wifey has always been a feverish researcher and I just blindly trust her. And I knew she was only cherry picking the good news and sugar coating the bad news. The Wifey went to the doctor every day to check her levels and due to the rarity of the pregnancy, her doctors proceeded with caution. And then today the Wifey texted me with the bad news, a simple " :( ".

I asked her how she felt and she simply said "sad." The same person who has never been short on emotion or never been afraid to tell me how she feels whether I care or not was just simply sad. And then I knew the extent of the emotional bond that was already established after only a few days; after only a few weeks of the Fighter existing.

I have had friends who have been much, much further along in their pregnancy and experienced the tragedy of a miscarriage so I can't fathom the magnitude of their depression. I've only known about the existence of the Fighter for a few days. But it's sad. It's tremendously heart wrenching. But it's merely an ounce of what my wife is actually feeling. And yet we sit on the couch watching television like nothing has happened. We sit here both knowing how scared shitless we truly are.