Hey all.
I know that once again it's been a while since I've posted in here. Life has been busy as I prepare for what could be a massive change in the next few months and I've been spending a lot of time taking care of things that were needed.
That's not what this post is about though.
No, the other day I started to think about what might happen when my time is up in this life. Not in a morbid "dear god I'm going to die some day" way, but rather in a much scarier way, at least to myself.
I thought about what it might feel like at the moment that I pass and what could be waiting on the other side of death, if anything. There are few things that cause me to become anxious, but what happens after death is one of those things.
Is reincarnation real? Do we come back into this world at another point in time somewhere else? Do we live life after life with no end to the cycle?
Or do we continue to exist in another sense, or another plane like a spirit world? If so, are we able to keep tabs on the life we used to have?
Or does it just end and you cease to exist in any shape or form?
That last option scares me. It legitimately does scare me. The thought of the world going dark around me and there being nothing after that is pretty terrifying.
Maybe it's because I have a child and the thought of leaving her behind terrifies me in any capacity.
In any case, I thought about it, freaked myself out a bit, and then banished the thought from my mind. After all, my time will come when fate decides it's time for me to go and I'll have no choice but to accept it.
I went about my business this weekend, yet the concept of mortality and how it affects us all continued to linger in my mind. I thought about how there had been relatively few passings in my life while other people seem to constantly deal with death and its effects on families.
The passing of my cousin Keenan was tough to stomach, but life had taken me away from a lot of my extended family, especially once Kylie was born. It stung but I couldn't linger on it as I have a small child constantly seeking my attention.
I don't think the thoughts of mortality were a coincidence after the news I received today now. I think like most things in life, there's a reason behind a lot of things and maybe the thoughts of mortality were a warning that something was going to happen. I'm not sure about this, but life to this point has shown me there's typically a reason behind most things that happen, even if you can't see it right away.
Initially, I had been informed that my last remaining grandmother was not doing well and was in the hospital. Upon hearing this, I made the decision that I was going to try and visit one last time, so we headed into Cleveland early on the chance that I could do so.
Unfortunately, shortly after arriving in Cleveland, I received a message from my mom that my grandmother actually had passed away earlier in the day, roughly around 10am or so.
I just sat in a chair for a bit, thinking about all the times I had meant to call but didn't, all those times I thought about visiting, yet ultimately didn't get around to it either because I was dealing with my own stuff or didn't have the gas to make the extra trip in. I thought about all the things we used to do, how active my grandma was in our lives.
I thought about the passing of my dad and how much it hurt her and the rest of the family. I thought about the phone calls we had after I had moved out to Willoughby to start the latest chapter in my life. She could talk for hours if you let her and I usually did, even if I had other things that I was going to do.
I thought about the family gatherings out the country (in Ashtabula) that used to go on all the time, all the holidays spent at her house.
I just sat and thought about the numerous lost opportunities because I became too wrapped up in my own life and own struggles.
I just thought.
I sit now and think about the "Davey" nickname that she always referred to me with (and now you know where that nickname originated from).
I don't know if it's going to hit me. I don't handle grief the same way others do so I don't know if that moment is going to come when I break down. It didn't happen with my dad (too much bitterness I suppose) and has only really happened when I had to put my cat Kisa down. Even then, I knew I was doing the right thing and had come to accept it, so it didn't wreck me like it could have.
Even now, the thoughts are returning of all the times we used to go to my grandma's house in Cleveland and I'm not feeling grief, just nostalgia and sadness that maybe I didn't appreciate those moments enough. Then again, a lot of my emotion is tied up in a little girl that's going to be 3 in a few months.
Even now, she's come out of her mom's room to pay me a visit while I type this, so it's hard to feel too much sadness with her around.
Yet I am sad. I know I am. Which makes me believe at some point it's going to hit me and possibly hit me hard. And I'm going to regret all the time I didn't spend with her and the rest of the family.
I've let a lot of bitterness continue to linger in me from my childhood, a lot of which is really my dad's fault. Sure, the family could've come around sooner on my dad's issues, but you can't fault them either. I can't continue to hold on to this grudge or whatever it is that's been lingering for so many years.
The simple truth is I'm going to have to face mortality again in the future and I can't sit there and wonder if I'm missing more opportunities.
I've missed too many as it is.
Grandma Betty, you were always great to us and always made sure we knew you cared about us. You will be missed in so many ways.
Rest in peace.
Love, Davey.
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Monday, February 29, 2016
Thursday, March 19, 2015
TBT - Revisiting an Old Entry
Back on 10/22/12, I wrote this piece about what I was thinking about once I realized I was going to be a dad for the first time. It was an exciting, yet scary time for me personally, but has been one hell of a ride since her birth.
Now that Kylie is approaching 2 years old, Rachel came up with a great idea to revisit this post and respond to some of the things I had written. Sections of the original post will appear in this entry in italics, while my responses will be in bold.
I hope you enjoy this look back at how I originally felt and how I see things now.
I don't want that same experience for my future kid (or kids). I don't want them to grow up and wonder the same things I wondered. I always envisioned myself being a better father to my kids than my dad was towards me. I want for them what I missed, what I wished I would have experienced.
This is still something I strive for. There are so many "what-ifs" revolving around my childhood experience, and while there will always be missed opportunities, I want to keep those to a minimum with Kylie and Payton.
I can't overstate how awesome it is to have a girlfriend in Rachel who loves football and baseball though. Guys, always appreciate it when you find a girl like that because there are certainly a number of them out there who could care less about sports in general.
This is no joke. It's always easier to be in a relationship when both of you have similar interests. Hell, she even sits and watches the Cavs with me. That type of thing goes a long way.
I don't want my child to have to do that. I want him/her to relish the moments we have, grow up and know that I'm there when they need me to be, but also to push the way my mom tried to push us. I want my child to fondly remember his/her childhood moments, not possibly be the plot behind some made-for-tv special about child abuse and drugs.
I admittedly probably enjoy this last line a lot more than I should, but it's still true.
Why all this gibber gabber? Rachel is pregnant and expecting her second child and my first. We were trying to wait to make an official announcement, but the cat's out of the bag and I can now openly write about what will be first experience in fatherhood.
What are my emotions? I'm excited, I'm happy, I'm anxious, and even a little scared. This is as unknown a territory as a person can possibly enter. Sure, there are thousands of books, online articles, and other sources of information on being a parent. There's the expertise of Rachel, who has three years experience now. Yet you never really know what to expect. Is it a boy, is it a girl, will they be a loud baby, a quiet baby? Will they listen when they get older or will they be defiant? Will they need meds? Will everything come out okay?
The emotional roller coaster went on the entire time Rachel was pregnant, maybe more so for her, but I definitely experienced them. You start thinking about what if the child has some kind of birth defect, or genetic issue, or anything that could be bad. You see stories online all the time of babies not living beyond a few hours or days and you hope and pray that isn't you.
In summary, all the books in the world won't prepare you enough, but being mentally strong will get you through most anything. We found out it was going to be a girl, and after some wrestling with names, we settled on Kylie Brooke. For the most part she was quiet, but she had her loud moments. She's become somewhat defiant as she's gotten older, but nothing too horribly bad. And while she tried to scare us all by not breathing on her own initially due to her cord being around neck, she pulled through and is a completely healthy, feisty, yet small little girl.
Yet despite all the uncertainty that comes with the pregnancy and then actual raising of the child, I'm excited. I look forward to being the dad that squishes his kid's face just because it looks funny to him. I look forward to carrying him/her around as an infant, then complaining when they can walk but still want to be carried. I look forward to their first words, then getting irritated because they won't stop talking back to me because they want that one singular toy.
Rachel mentioned last night as we discussed me writing this that one thing that's unique about us as a couple is either one of us is likely to mess with Kylie. Carrying her around and watching her take in the world was amazing to me, and while she still likes to be carried (more I think because she likes snuggling up to us), she can move pretty fast on her feet. The words are coming more and more with each week, and while she doesn't babble on about wanting a toy, she will grab anything she thinks she wants off the store shelves.
I have a chance to do the things with this child that I wanted my dad to do with me. If I'm lucky, this child will enjoy video games like me and I'll have a video game buddy (even better if Payton and Rachel join in). I've always admired a youtuber by the name of paulsoaresjr who plays and records Minecraft, but also plays with all three of his kids and his wife on occasion. It may not seem like much to most, but it's a way for him to stay connected with his kids as they get older, something most parents have to face at some point (two of his kids are in high school now).
Payton has shown a mild interest in games, so I'm fairly certain in a little while she'll be able to play some with me. Kylie likes running around with my broken Xbox 360 controller, but I can't say for sure if that means she's going to be into games or not. I still have an admiration for any gamer/YouTuber who plays and records games with their family. It's pretty cool to me.
I look forward to all the appointments leading up to the child being born, the first laugh, the first cry (after that, I'll probably be done with the crying), the first time I have to get up to take care of the baby in the middle of the night (again, probably done after that), the first crawl, the first steps, the first fall, the first run, the first big fall, the first teeth, and so on.
This is when things started to get wild. Hearing her heart beat for the first time, seeing the ultrasound pictures, and seeing the progress being made prior to her birth are things I won't forget. Nor will I forget the first time I was able to hold her. The crying is disheartening when they're younger because they can't tell you what's wrong and it's not always super obvious. It's sometimes trial by error as you try to figure out what's wrong and hope you hit on a solution.
While Rachel was breast feeding, we were both getting up in the middle of the night. I'd change Kylie, then hand her off and we'd all pass out in the bed together. Once Rachel stopped feeding her and started on a medication to help her sleep, it became and has stayed primarily my responsibility to grab Ky when she wakes up in the middle of the night. More often than not she's sleeping until the 5-7am range, so it's not too bad. Rachel will attempt to grab her if she happens to wake up before she goes to bed, but that doesn't happen a lot.
I wasn't around for the very first crawl, but I did manage to catch her next attempt (which was motivated by pizza). I happened to be recording her again when she took her first big steps by herself, and while it's hard to say if I saw her first fall, I've seen plenty, including her rolling off of the couch and the bed. Her first teeth led to an explosion in what she could eat. The kid had already become a vacuum towards food, but having teeth has made it easier for her to eat just about anything.
The words are most exciting right now though. She's learning different words and phrases and hearing her use them correctly is more than a little exciting.
So while there are uncertainties and questions, there's also excitement and joy. I get to be a dad, and it gets to be my minion.
Yes, I've been calling it a minion. There's nothing any of you can do about it either.
She was also a Velociraptor for a long period of time too, which was only reinforced once she was born and would make this ungodly squealing noise when she'd see the cats. She doesn't make it as often anymore, but it was her battle cry for many months.
The end of May is a long way away though. That means there's plenty of time to prepare for all the things that come with having a new baby. Supplies will be bought, a bigger living arrangement will be pursued, and we will try to be as prepared as possible when the new life comes into the picture.
The truth is, you can never be fully prepared. Many times, you will realize you're out of diapers or wipes. The baby will need Motrin when you can't find it or have just run out. That said, we did move into a bigger apartment (that's no longer big enough) and have tried to at least keep up with how she's developing.
Our minion will need a name once we know whether we're having a boy or girl, and that to me is going to be one of the more challenging parts of the equation. In the past, I had thought about names, but when I go through and think about it now, nothing jumps out at me yet. Maybe it's because we don't know the sex of it yet, but as of now, even going through some lists of baby names, nothing has jumped at me just yet.
Kylie Brooke!
Life will certainly change come the end of May. Rachel is still encouraging me to sign up for next year's Warrior Dash, but I've been hedging since it takes place at the very beginning of June and I don't want there to be a conflict. Now, don't get me wrong, if Rachel is in labor when the Warrior Dash takes place, I'm not going. Simple as that. In an ideal world, the child would come either before or after the actual event.
Kylie decided that she was done playing in Rachel's belly and was born May 19th, which was about a week and a half before her actual due date. It ended up working out in the long run.
The world isn't ideal though and things already somewhat revolve around the unborn child. I have to consider the idea of buying as many baby supply items as possible so that we don't have to worry about that as much during the first couple of months. I have to make sure I have money set aside because there is going to be a period of time when Rachel isn't going to be able to work.
Money...it's always an issue, isn't it?
In the end, I'm excited for the future new addition and the changes it will bring. I'm excited for the memories that will be created by this addition.
Most importantly though, I'm excited about the chance to be the dad that I wish that I had.
Get ready world, our minion is coming.
And boy did she ever arrive.
On a side note, we ran in the Run of the Dead this past weekend and it was a pretty good time. Some of the zombies talked a little more than I thought and some of the zombie kids were a bit rambunctious, but it was still fun and something we'd both do again given the opportunity. It was down in Plymouth, OH, so it was a bit of a drive to get there, but we got there early and ran at a pretty decent pace considering Rachel hadn't run in a while and is a couple months along with the pregnancy.
But yeah, the main point of this? I have a minion on the way.
Duck and cover people, duck and cover.
I ducked, I covered, and it hasn't helped. My child is somehow able to break my defenses every time.
Now that Kylie is approaching 2 years old, Rachel came up with a great idea to revisit this post and respond to some of the things I had written. Sections of the original post will appear in this entry in italics, while my responses will be in bold.
I hope you enjoy this look back at how I originally felt and how I see things now.
I don't want that same experience for my future kid (or kids). I don't want them to grow up and wonder the same things I wondered. I always envisioned myself being a better father to my kids than my dad was towards me. I want for them what I missed, what I wished I would have experienced.
This is still something I strive for. There are so many "what-ifs" revolving around my childhood experience, and while there will always be missed opportunities, I want to keep those to a minimum with Kylie and Payton.
I can't overstate how awesome it is to have a girlfriend in Rachel who loves football and baseball though. Guys, always appreciate it when you find a girl like that because there are certainly a number of them out there who could care less about sports in general.
This is no joke. It's always easier to be in a relationship when both of you have similar interests. Hell, she even sits and watches the Cavs with me. That type of thing goes a long way.
I don't want my child to have to do that. I want him/her to relish the moments we have, grow up and know that I'm there when they need me to be, but also to push the way my mom tried to push us. I want my child to fondly remember his/her childhood moments, not possibly be the plot behind some made-for-tv special about child abuse and drugs.
I admittedly probably enjoy this last line a lot more than I should, but it's still true.
Why all this gibber gabber? Rachel is pregnant and expecting her second child and my first. We were trying to wait to make an official announcement, but the cat's out of the bag and I can now openly write about what will be first experience in fatherhood.
What are my emotions? I'm excited, I'm happy, I'm anxious, and even a little scared. This is as unknown a territory as a person can possibly enter. Sure, there are thousands of books, online articles, and other sources of information on being a parent. There's the expertise of Rachel, who has three years experience now. Yet you never really know what to expect. Is it a boy, is it a girl, will they be a loud baby, a quiet baby? Will they listen when they get older or will they be defiant? Will they need meds? Will everything come out okay?
The emotional roller coaster went on the entire time Rachel was pregnant, maybe more so for her, but I definitely experienced them. You start thinking about what if the child has some kind of birth defect, or genetic issue, or anything that could be bad. You see stories online all the time of babies not living beyond a few hours or days and you hope and pray that isn't you.
In summary, all the books in the world won't prepare you enough, but being mentally strong will get you through most anything. We found out it was going to be a girl, and after some wrestling with names, we settled on Kylie Brooke. For the most part she was quiet, but she had her loud moments. She's become somewhat defiant as she's gotten older, but nothing too horribly bad. And while she tried to scare us all by not breathing on her own initially due to her cord being around neck, she pulled through and is a completely healthy, feisty, yet small little girl.
Yet despite all the uncertainty that comes with the pregnancy and then actual raising of the child, I'm excited. I look forward to being the dad that squishes his kid's face just because it looks funny to him. I look forward to carrying him/her around as an infant, then complaining when they can walk but still want to be carried. I look forward to their first words, then getting irritated because they won't stop talking back to me because they want that one singular toy.
Rachel mentioned last night as we discussed me writing this that one thing that's unique about us as a couple is either one of us is likely to mess with Kylie. Carrying her around and watching her take in the world was amazing to me, and while she still likes to be carried (more I think because she likes snuggling up to us), she can move pretty fast on her feet. The words are coming more and more with each week, and while she doesn't babble on about wanting a toy, she will grab anything she thinks she wants off the store shelves.
I have a chance to do the things with this child that I wanted my dad to do with me. If I'm lucky, this child will enjoy video games like me and I'll have a video game buddy (even better if Payton and Rachel join in). I've always admired a youtuber by the name of paulsoaresjr who plays and records Minecraft, but also plays with all three of his kids and his wife on occasion. It may not seem like much to most, but it's a way for him to stay connected with his kids as they get older, something most parents have to face at some point (two of his kids are in high school now).
Payton has shown a mild interest in games, so I'm fairly certain in a little while she'll be able to play some with me. Kylie likes running around with my broken Xbox 360 controller, but I can't say for sure if that means she's going to be into games or not. I still have an admiration for any gamer/YouTuber who plays and records games with their family. It's pretty cool to me.
I look forward to all the appointments leading up to the child being born, the first laugh, the first cry (after that, I'll probably be done with the crying), the first time I have to get up to take care of the baby in the middle of the night (again, probably done after that), the first crawl, the first steps, the first fall, the first run, the first big fall, the first teeth, and so on.
This is when things started to get wild. Hearing her heart beat for the first time, seeing the ultrasound pictures, and seeing the progress being made prior to her birth are things I won't forget. Nor will I forget the first time I was able to hold her. The crying is disheartening when they're younger because they can't tell you what's wrong and it's not always super obvious. It's sometimes trial by error as you try to figure out what's wrong and hope you hit on a solution.
While Rachel was breast feeding, we were both getting up in the middle of the night. I'd change Kylie, then hand her off and we'd all pass out in the bed together. Once Rachel stopped feeding her and started on a medication to help her sleep, it became and has stayed primarily my responsibility to grab Ky when she wakes up in the middle of the night. More often than not she's sleeping until the 5-7am range, so it's not too bad. Rachel will attempt to grab her if she happens to wake up before she goes to bed, but that doesn't happen a lot.
I wasn't around for the very first crawl, but I did manage to catch her next attempt (which was motivated by pizza). I happened to be recording her again when she took her first big steps by herself, and while it's hard to say if I saw her first fall, I've seen plenty, including her rolling off of the couch and the bed. Her first teeth led to an explosion in what she could eat. The kid had already become a vacuum towards food, but having teeth has made it easier for her to eat just about anything.
The words are most exciting right now though. She's learning different words and phrases and hearing her use them correctly is more than a little exciting.
So while there are uncertainties and questions, there's also excitement and joy. I get to be a dad, and it gets to be my minion.
Yes, I've been calling it a minion. There's nothing any of you can do about it either.
She was also a Velociraptor for a long period of time too, which was only reinforced once she was born and would make this ungodly squealing noise when she'd see the cats. She doesn't make it as often anymore, but it was her battle cry for many months.
The end of May is a long way away though. That means there's plenty of time to prepare for all the things that come with having a new baby. Supplies will be bought, a bigger living arrangement will be pursued, and we will try to be as prepared as possible when the new life comes into the picture.
The truth is, you can never be fully prepared. Many times, you will realize you're out of diapers or wipes. The baby will need Motrin when you can't find it or have just run out. That said, we did move into a bigger apartment (that's no longer big enough) and have tried to at least keep up with how she's developing.
Our minion will need a name once we know whether we're having a boy or girl, and that to me is going to be one of the more challenging parts of the equation. In the past, I had thought about names, but when I go through and think about it now, nothing jumps out at me yet. Maybe it's because we don't know the sex of it yet, but as of now, even going through some lists of baby names, nothing has jumped at me just yet.
Kylie Brooke!
Life will certainly change come the end of May. Rachel is still encouraging me to sign up for next year's Warrior Dash, but I've been hedging since it takes place at the very beginning of June and I don't want there to be a conflict. Now, don't get me wrong, if Rachel is in labor when the Warrior Dash takes place, I'm not going. Simple as that. In an ideal world, the child would come either before or after the actual event.
Kylie decided that she was done playing in Rachel's belly and was born May 19th, which was about a week and a half before her actual due date. It ended up working out in the long run.
The world isn't ideal though and things already somewhat revolve around the unborn child. I have to consider the idea of buying as many baby supply items as possible so that we don't have to worry about that as much during the first couple of months. I have to make sure I have money set aside because there is going to be a period of time when Rachel isn't going to be able to work.
Money...it's always an issue, isn't it?
In the end, I'm excited for the future new addition and the changes it will bring. I'm excited for the memories that will be created by this addition.
Most importantly though, I'm excited about the chance to be the dad that I wish that I had.
Get ready world, our minion is coming.
And boy did she ever arrive.
On a side note, we ran in the Run of the Dead this past weekend and it was a pretty good time. Some of the zombies talked a little more than I thought and some of the zombie kids were a bit rambunctious, but it was still fun and something we'd both do again given the opportunity. It was down in Plymouth, OH, so it was a bit of a drive to get there, but we got there early and ran at a pretty decent pace considering Rachel hadn't run in a while and is a couple months along with the pregnancy.
But yeah, the main point of this? I have a minion on the way.
Duck and cover people, duck and cover.
I ducked, I covered, and it hasn't helped. My child is somehow able to break my defenses every time.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Release the minion!
I will admit, I don't always strive for things that most people would go for.
Most guys out there aren't hoping to settle down with the right girl so they can fulfill a dream of having kids of their own. Most are out looking for someone they can spend a few years with before they consider starting a family.
My goals have always been different though. I think a lot of it stems from when I was younger and the experiences I lost out on when I was kid due to the things going on with my dad. I've always felt I missed out on a lot, that I didn't get to experience the same kinds of things that most did. I suppose in my unrealistic frame of mind, I've always felt that I'm still missing out on things, and not just because he passed away recently.
I don't want that same experience for my future kid (or kids). I don't want them to grow up and wonder the same things I wondered. I always envisioned myself being a better father to my kids than my dad was towards me. I want for them what I missed, what I wished I would have experienced.
For instance, I would have loved to have a dad that I could still sit and watch sporting events with. Granted, I have the best thing going in that I have a girlfriend who loves baseball and football, but it still would've been nice if my dad would've been stable enough for us to all take in the Browns or Indians. It would have been nice to still be able to throw the ball around and talk about stuff like we briefly did when I was kid. Again, I have Rachel for these so I feel fortunate in that regard, but it still would've been nice if I had that growing up with my dad. I could've asked him all the stuff I had to figure out on my own when I was in high school and maybe, just maybe, would've missed out on a lot of the awkward moments I endured.
I can't overstate how awesome it is to have a girlfriend in Rachel who loves football and baseball though. Guys, always appreciate it when you find a girl like that because there are certainly a number of them out there who could care less about sports in general.
Instead, I chose to avoid my dad as soon as I didn't have to see him on a regular basis. I chose to drift as far away as possible simply because I had had enough of the problems he had. I had enough of him yelling, his conspiracy theories, and all the other things he used to say and do when he was on his drug/alcohol concoction.
I don't want my child to have to do that. I want him/her to relish the moments we have, grow up and know that I'm there when they need me to be, but also to push the way my mom tried to push us. I want my child to fondly remember his/her childhood moments, not possibly be the plot behind some made-for-tv special about child abuse and drugs.
Why all this gibber gabber? Rachel is pregnant and expecting her second child and my first. We were trying to wait to make an official announcement, but the cat's out of the bag and I can now openly write about what will be first experience in fatherhood.
What are my emotions? I'm excited, I'm happy, I'm anxious, and even a little scared. This is as unknown a territory as a person can possibly enter. Sure, there are thousands of books, online articles, and other sources of information on being a parent. There's the expertise of Rachel, who has three years experience now. Yet you never really know what to expect. Is it a boy, is it a girl, will they be a loud baby, a quiet baby? Will they listen when they get older or will they be defiant? Will they need meds? Will everything come out okay?
Yet despite all the uncertainty that comes with the pregnancy and then actual raising of the child, I'm excited. I look forward to being the dad that squishes his kid's face just because it looks funny to him. I look forward to carrying him/her around as an infant, then complaining when they can walk but still want to be carried. I look forward to their first words, then getting irritated because they won't stop talking back to me because they want that one singular toy.
I have a chance to do the things with this child that I wanted my dad to do with me. If I'm lucky, this child will enjoy video games like me and I'll have a video game buddy (even better if Payton and Rachel join in). I've always admired a youtuber by the name of paulsoaresjr who plays and records Minecraft, but also plays with all three of his kids and his wife on occasion. It may not seem like much to most, but it's a way for him to stay connected with his kids as they get older, something most parents have to face at some point (two of his kids are in high school now).
I look forward to all the appointments leading up to the child being born, the first laugh, the first cry (after that, I'll probably be done with the crying), the first time I have to get up to take care of the baby in the middle of the night (again, probably done after that), the first crawl, the first steps, the first fall, the first run, the first big fall, the first teeth, and so on.
So while there are uncertainties and questions, there's also excitement and joy. I get to be a dad, and it gets to be my minion.
Yes, I've been calling it a minion. There's nothing any of you can do about it either.
The end of May is a long way away though. That means there's plenty of time to prepare for all the things that come with having a new baby. Supplies will be bought, a bigger living arrangement will be pursued, and we will try to be as prepared as possible when the new life comes into the picture.
Our minion will need a name once we know whether we're having a boy or girl, and that to me is going to be one of the more challenging parts of the equation. In the past, I had thought about names, but when I go through and think about it now, nothing jumps out at me yet. Maybe it's because we don't know the sex of it yet, but as of now, even going through some lists of baby names, nothing has jumped at me just yet.
Life will certainly change come the end of May. Rachel is still encouraging me to sign up for next year's Warrior Dash, but I've been hedging since it takes place at the very beginning of June and I don't want there to be a conflict. Now, don't get me wrong, if Rachel is in labor when the Warrior Dash takes place, I'm not going. Simple as that. In an ideal world, the child would come either before or after the actual event.
The world isn't ideal though and things already somewhat revolve around the unborn child. I have to consider the idea of buying as many baby supply items as possible so that we don't have to worry about that as much during the first couple of months. I have to make sure I have money set aside because there is going to be a period of time when Rachel isn't going to be able to work.
In the end, I'm excited for the future new addition and the changes it will bring. I'm excited for the memories that will be created by this addition.
Most importantly though, I'm excited about the chance to be the dad that I wish that I had.
Get ready world, our minion is coming.
On a side note, we ran in the Run of the Dead this past weekend and it was a pretty good time. Some of the zombies talked a little more than I thought and some of the zombie kids were a bit rambunctious, but it was still fun and something we'd both do again given the opportunity. It was down in Plymouth, OH, so it was a bit of a drive to get there, but we got there early and ran at a pretty decent pace considering Rachel hadn't run in a while and is a couple months along with the pregnancy.
But yeah, the main point of this? I have a minion on the way.
Duck and cover people, duck and cover.
Most guys out there aren't hoping to settle down with the right girl so they can fulfill a dream of having kids of their own. Most are out looking for someone they can spend a few years with before they consider starting a family.
My goals have always been different though. I think a lot of it stems from when I was younger and the experiences I lost out on when I was kid due to the things going on with my dad. I've always felt I missed out on a lot, that I didn't get to experience the same kinds of things that most did. I suppose in my unrealistic frame of mind, I've always felt that I'm still missing out on things, and not just because he passed away recently.
I don't want that same experience for my future kid (or kids). I don't want them to grow up and wonder the same things I wondered. I always envisioned myself being a better father to my kids than my dad was towards me. I want for them what I missed, what I wished I would have experienced.
For instance, I would have loved to have a dad that I could still sit and watch sporting events with. Granted, I have the best thing going in that I have a girlfriend who loves baseball and football, but it still would've been nice if my dad would've been stable enough for us to all take in the Browns or Indians. It would have been nice to still be able to throw the ball around and talk about stuff like we briefly did when I was kid. Again, I have Rachel for these so I feel fortunate in that regard, but it still would've been nice if I had that growing up with my dad. I could've asked him all the stuff I had to figure out on my own when I was in high school and maybe, just maybe, would've missed out on a lot of the awkward moments I endured.
I can't overstate how awesome it is to have a girlfriend in Rachel who loves football and baseball though. Guys, always appreciate it when you find a girl like that because there are certainly a number of them out there who could care less about sports in general.
Instead, I chose to avoid my dad as soon as I didn't have to see him on a regular basis. I chose to drift as far away as possible simply because I had had enough of the problems he had. I had enough of him yelling, his conspiracy theories, and all the other things he used to say and do when he was on his drug/alcohol concoction.
I don't want my child to have to do that. I want him/her to relish the moments we have, grow up and know that I'm there when they need me to be, but also to push the way my mom tried to push us. I want my child to fondly remember his/her childhood moments, not possibly be the plot behind some made-for-tv special about child abuse and drugs.
Why all this gibber gabber? Rachel is pregnant and expecting her second child and my first. We were trying to wait to make an official announcement, but the cat's out of the bag and I can now openly write about what will be first experience in fatherhood.
What are my emotions? I'm excited, I'm happy, I'm anxious, and even a little scared. This is as unknown a territory as a person can possibly enter. Sure, there are thousands of books, online articles, and other sources of information on being a parent. There's the expertise of Rachel, who has three years experience now. Yet you never really know what to expect. Is it a boy, is it a girl, will they be a loud baby, a quiet baby? Will they listen when they get older or will they be defiant? Will they need meds? Will everything come out okay?
Yet despite all the uncertainty that comes with the pregnancy and then actual raising of the child, I'm excited. I look forward to being the dad that squishes his kid's face just because it looks funny to him. I look forward to carrying him/her around as an infant, then complaining when they can walk but still want to be carried. I look forward to their first words, then getting irritated because they won't stop talking back to me because they want that one singular toy.
I have a chance to do the things with this child that I wanted my dad to do with me. If I'm lucky, this child will enjoy video games like me and I'll have a video game buddy (even better if Payton and Rachel join in). I've always admired a youtuber by the name of paulsoaresjr who plays and records Minecraft, but also plays with all three of his kids and his wife on occasion. It may not seem like much to most, but it's a way for him to stay connected with his kids as they get older, something most parents have to face at some point (two of his kids are in high school now).
I look forward to all the appointments leading up to the child being born, the first laugh, the first cry (after that, I'll probably be done with the crying), the first time I have to get up to take care of the baby in the middle of the night (again, probably done after that), the first crawl, the first steps, the first fall, the first run, the first big fall, the first teeth, and so on.
So while there are uncertainties and questions, there's also excitement and joy. I get to be a dad, and it gets to be my minion.
Yes, I've been calling it a minion. There's nothing any of you can do about it either.
The end of May is a long way away though. That means there's plenty of time to prepare for all the things that come with having a new baby. Supplies will be bought, a bigger living arrangement will be pursued, and we will try to be as prepared as possible when the new life comes into the picture.
Our minion will need a name once we know whether we're having a boy or girl, and that to me is going to be one of the more challenging parts of the equation. In the past, I had thought about names, but when I go through and think about it now, nothing jumps out at me yet. Maybe it's because we don't know the sex of it yet, but as of now, even going through some lists of baby names, nothing has jumped at me just yet.
Life will certainly change come the end of May. Rachel is still encouraging me to sign up for next year's Warrior Dash, but I've been hedging since it takes place at the very beginning of June and I don't want there to be a conflict. Now, don't get me wrong, if Rachel is in labor when the Warrior Dash takes place, I'm not going. Simple as that. In an ideal world, the child would come either before or after the actual event.
The world isn't ideal though and things already somewhat revolve around the unborn child. I have to consider the idea of buying as many baby supply items as possible so that we don't have to worry about that as much during the first couple of months. I have to make sure I have money set aside because there is going to be a period of time when Rachel isn't going to be able to work.
In the end, I'm excited for the future new addition and the changes it will bring. I'm excited for the memories that will be created by this addition.
Most importantly though, I'm excited about the chance to be the dad that I wish that I had.
Get ready world, our minion is coming.
On a side note, we ran in the Run of the Dead this past weekend and it was a pretty good time. Some of the zombies talked a little more than I thought and some of the zombie kids were a bit rambunctious, but it was still fun and something we'd both do again given the opportunity. It was down in Plymouth, OH, so it was a bit of a drive to get there, but we got there early and ran at a pretty decent pace considering Rachel hadn't run in a while and is a couple months along with the pregnancy.
But yeah, the main point of this? I have a minion on the way.
Duck and cover people, duck and cover.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Life - When death becomes a release
Not too long ago, I was forced to make a difficult decision.
I had to decide whether to continue to sustain the life of my cat, Kisa, or finally put her down. What was once considered a very difficult decision was made easier by how much I could tell she was hurting.
The signs were all there. By the time she was settled into a sitting position, it was time to move again. We barely saw her (some of this attributed to Payton, but Pook runs from her and still is seen a lot during the day), she was peeing on just about anything that was on the floor, she was barely eating, and she wasn't drinking much either. You could look at her and tell something was wrong with her.
The initially possibility of putting her down was raised earlier this year. We took her to the vet, had her checked out, and got a relatively clean bill of health all things considered. We put her on a wet food diet and she seemed to be rebounding some. She didn't come out much still, but when we did see her, she looked a lot better.
That didn't last long though. She slowly started to thin out again and the rate that she was peeing on things was steadily increasing. It was getting to the point that it was a surprise when we didn't find something peed on, usually in Payton's room. Then, a couple of months ago, we were fortunate enough to see a kitten running around outside. This kitten became Goobie, had a worm in her head, and became Pook's new best friend. Kisa started to come out more, but it was mostly because Goobs liked to run under the bed.
A few weeks ago, it was decided that it was time. I let my mom and sister know and took a Friday off of work so I could take her up to Rachel's work and have the final act done.
On September 14th, Kisa took her final breath and was removed from her pain.
I've had plenty of time to reflect on this moment, reflect on what happened. I've been able to think about the memories I shared with this cat, and marvel at the fact that she lived nearly 19 years. She went from a petrified kitten hiding under my bed, to my constant companion no matter where I lived, to barely being seen in her final months.
When she was a kitten, she was extremely tempermental. Yes, she played like most kittens, but everything was on her terms. If she was laying on you and you moved, you received one growling warning, then you were clawed and she'd jump down in disdain. She bit my mom the one and only time my mom attempted to give her a bath. In fact, my mom was bitten by Kisa on two different occasions, the only time the cat seriously bit anyone.
Okay, so there was the one time when I was holding her (something I did frequently until she got older and decided she didn't like it anymore) and she was licking my nose (a Kisa trademark), when she suddenly decided she wanted down. Her way of letting me know? Chomping down on my nose and then jumping down.
I was clawed a few times, usually in the brief moments that she did decide to play, but other than that, her preferred bonding method was to sleep right up against me every night.
In short, she was a good cat.
Until she got older, cranky, and decided that displaying her mood meant peeing on things.
In that regard, putting her to sleep was easy. I was tired of constantly washing clothes that had been peed on, tired of finding the spots on the carpet. It had reached the point where it was a burden on me, in addition to be an annoyance to Rachel as it was usually hers or Payton's clothes that Kisa decided to whiz on. Her best days were behind her and keeping her alive didn't serve any purpose other than to have to clean up more messes.
Even so, it wasn't easy to do. My sister was there, and as often is the case with her, was a tad emotional during the event. The hardest part for me was after it was done, she was buried and we went home.
It's been those quiet moments where I'm either the only one still awake, or by myself, and I think about her. I think about her giving one last annoyed meow as the vet injected her. I think about her breathing just stopping, eyes still open, and it hurts my heart everytime I think about it. I sit and wonder what she's thinking as her body functions shut down almost instantly.
It tears at me, mostly because for more than 18 years, this cat was the one constant in my life. Work could stink, family could be gone, friends could be busy, but there was one thing I could count on when I was at home in my room, and that was that Kisa was going to be there, and she was going to be happy to see me.
The last year and nearly four months have given me something else constant: a loving girlfriend and her daughter, but saying goodbye to those 18 plus years wasn't easy. Luckily, there's a lot to look forward to. I do have Rachel, Payton, Pook, Shenzie, Goobie, and Turk. I still have family and friends who have been there for years now.
Her death was a challenge, but I'll never forget Kisa and what she brought to my life. Her death was a release for both of us, just in different ways.
I had to decide whether to continue to sustain the life of my cat, Kisa, or finally put her down. What was once considered a very difficult decision was made easier by how much I could tell she was hurting.
The signs were all there. By the time she was settled into a sitting position, it was time to move again. We barely saw her (some of this attributed to Payton, but Pook runs from her and still is seen a lot during the day), she was peeing on just about anything that was on the floor, she was barely eating, and she wasn't drinking much either. You could look at her and tell something was wrong with her.
The initially possibility of putting her down was raised earlier this year. We took her to the vet, had her checked out, and got a relatively clean bill of health all things considered. We put her on a wet food diet and she seemed to be rebounding some. She didn't come out much still, but when we did see her, she looked a lot better.
That didn't last long though. She slowly started to thin out again and the rate that she was peeing on things was steadily increasing. It was getting to the point that it was a surprise when we didn't find something peed on, usually in Payton's room. Then, a couple of months ago, we were fortunate enough to see a kitten running around outside. This kitten became Goobie, had a worm in her head, and became Pook's new best friend. Kisa started to come out more, but it was mostly because Goobs liked to run under the bed.
A few weeks ago, it was decided that it was time. I let my mom and sister know and took a Friday off of work so I could take her up to Rachel's work and have the final act done.
On September 14th, Kisa took her final breath and was removed from her pain.
I've had plenty of time to reflect on this moment, reflect on what happened. I've been able to think about the memories I shared with this cat, and marvel at the fact that she lived nearly 19 years. She went from a petrified kitten hiding under my bed, to my constant companion no matter where I lived, to barely being seen in her final months.
When she was a kitten, she was extremely tempermental. Yes, she played like most kittens, but everything was on her terms. If she was laying on you and you moved, you received one growling warning, then you were clawed and she'd jump down in disdain. She bit my mom the one and only time my mom attempted to give her a bath. In fact, my mom was bitten by Kisa on two different occasions, the only time the cat seriously bit anyone.
Okay, so there was the one time when I was holding her (something I did frequently until she got older and decided she didn't like it anymore) and she was licking my nose (a Kisa trademark), when she suddenly decided she wanted down. Her way of letting me know? Chomping down on my nose and then jumping down.
I was clawed a few times, usually in the brief moments that she did decide to play, but other than that, her preferred bonding method was to sleep right up against me every night.
In short, she was a good cat.
Until she got older, cranky, and decided that displaying her mood meant peeing on things.
In that regard, putting her to sleep was easy. I was tired of constantly washing clothes that had been peed on, tired of finding the spots on the carpet. It had reached the point where it was a burden on me, in addition to be an annoyance to Rachel as it was usually hers or Payton's clothes that Kisa decided to whiz on. Her best days were behind her and keeping her alive didn't serve any purpose other than to have to clean up more messes.
Even so, it wasn't easy to do. My sister was there, and as often is the case with her, was a tad emotional during the event. The hardest part for me was after it was done, she was buried and we went home.
It's been those quiet moments where I'm either the only one still awake, or by myself, and I think about her. I think about her giving one last annoyed meow as the vet injected her. I think about her breathing just stopping, eyes still open, and it hurts my heart everytime I think about it. I sit and wonder what she's thinking as her body functions shut down almost instantly.
It tears at me, mostly because for more than 18 years, this cat was the one constant in my life. Work could stink, family could be gone, friends could be busy, but there was one thing I could count on when I was at home in my room, and that was that Kisa was going to be there, and she was going to be happy to see me.
The last year and nearly four months have given me something else constant: a loving girlfriend and her daughter, but saying goodbye to those 18 plus years wasn't easy. Luckily, there's a lot to look forward to. I do have Rachel, Payton, Pook, Shenzie, Goobie, and Turk. I still have family and friends who have been there for years now.
Her death was a challenge, but I'll never forget Kisa and what she brought to my life. Her death was a release for both of us, just in different ways.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
falling flat
I've never been short on ideas for blog posts.
In the past, I've come up with several good ideas. Sometimes I'd even get started on them for a while.
Then, after a while, I'd start to slack off for a while before the idea completely fell off the track.
Most of the time it's been due to lack of writing. I'd start off strong for a week or so, then the amount of writing would decrease slowly and surely as I just felt no motivation to go forward with the post. Often times, it's because the idea seemed really good in theory, but when it came to executing the idea, I realized it wasn't as good as I thought.
For example, back in 1999 when I was writing on my old web site, I was very much into the Indians and what appeared to be a season for the ages. Every time I wrote something, I finished with a recap of that days Indians' game. I'd give the score, the records, and a brief rundown of the game. I kept it up for half the season, then sometime after the All-Star break, I either lost interest in the idea or got sick of doing it.
It's kind of hard to remember at this point.
More recently, specifically last year's playoffs, I started to capsule previews of NFL playoff games all the way through the Pro-Bowl. I had some fun with it and was going to do it again this year, except, well, I didn't.
I can't really explain why. I kept thinking about starting it up, but then I wouldn't.
So now I have come up with a new idea for this blog. Or my pharmacy blog. I can't decide which to use it on, which would be the first issue since I can't use it on both and possibly give away what little anonymity I have on my pharmacy blog.
Hmm. That means I can't tell what the idea is if I intend to use it on the pharmacy blog because then when it shows up there, it would give away which blog is mine.
I guess I should've figured that part out first.
Oh well.
The idea revolves around a theme for each day of the week. For instance, I could call Friday Flashback Fridays and post some story from my younger years (which makes me feel old just writing that). Of course to do that requires me coming up with whimsical names (hey, Whimsical Wednesday?) for each day of the week and actually stick with it, which isn't likely. It also makes more sense if I write every day, thus justifying the different names for each day I post, but we know that won't happen.
In any case, that's an idea that's floating around in my head, partially because I have nothing else to do in my free time when I'm not with Rachel than to think of silly things like that.
Now then, back to the focus of the week.
Tomorrow is kind of a day of reckoning when it comes to Kisa. It's at least the first step in deciding what to do with her. Put her down and spend the next month remembering all the moments I've had with her? Keep her alive a little longer because her health isn't as bad as feared and do everything to make her remaining time comfortable?
It's kind of a troubling thing to think about really. I almost feel like a God wielding power over a helpless being. Whether she lives or dies is in my hands.
I've spent the last two days really thinking about all the things that have happened with her over the years. I'm not so much upset at the idea of her possibly being euthanized as maybe some might be, but that's mostly because I've already come to terms with the fact that one day she will be gone. I'm calm about it because as I've stated, she's given me almost 18 good years. It's more than I ever could've hoped for and I know I'll be making an informed decision, not just saying I'm done for the hell of it or keeping her alive longer than she should be.
Having Kisa has been an amazing experience. There's never been any doubts about her being my cat. When I've been gone for a couple days and come home again, she follows me around for a while. She's always slept either next to me or on top of me. When I sit down on the couch, she's right there looking for a lap to lay on.
One of my favorite memories is when we lived in Brunswick and I worked at CVS in Strongsville til 10. I had worked the same shifts for a while and my mom started to tell me how right around when I was supposed to be home, she'd go over to the front door and sit and wait for me. This went on for the longest time, at least up until I started hanging out with Mike regularly after work.
I apologize in advance if I spend a lot of time remembering things with Kisa.
I have almost 18 years worth of memories to possibly catch up on.
Oh, and don't hold your breath on the format thing for the blog. I'll probably forget by tonight anyway.
In the past, I've come up with several good ideas. Sometimes I'd even get started on them for a while.
Then, after a while, I'd start to slack off for a while before the idea completely fell off the track.
Most of the time it's been due to lack of writing. I'd start off strong for a week or so, then the amount of writing would decrease slowly and surely as I just felt no motivation to go forward with the post. Often times, it's because the idea seemed really good in theory, but when it came to executing the idea, I realized it wasn't as good as I thought.
For example, back in 1999 when I was writing on my old web site, I was very much into the Indians and what appeared to be a season for the ages. Every time I wrote something, I finished with a recap of that days Indians' game. I'd give the score, the records, and a brief rundown of the game. I kept it up for half the season, then sometime after the All-Star break, I either lost interest in the idea or got sick of doing it.
It's kind of hard to remember at this point.
More recently, specifically last year's playoffs, I started to capsule previews of NFL playoff games all the way through the Pro-Bowl. I had some fun with it and was going to do it again this year, except, well, I didn't.
I can't really explain why. I kept thinking about starting it up, but then I wouldn't.
So now I have come up with a new idea for this blog. Or my pharmacy blog. I can't decide which to use it on, which would be the first issue since I can't use it on both and possibly give away what little anonymity I have on my pharmacy blog.
Hmm. That means I can't tell what the idea is if I intend to use it on the pharmacy blog because then when it shows up there, it would give away which blog is mine.
I guess I should've figured that part out first.
Oh well.
The idea revolves around a theme for each day of the week. For instance, I could call Friday Flashback Fridays and post some story from my younger years (which makes me feel old just writing that). Of course to do that requires me coming up with whimsical names (hey, Whimsical Wednesday?) for each day of the week and actually stick with it, which isn't likely. It also makes more sense if I write every day, thus justifying the different names for each day I post, but we know that won't happen.
In any case, that's an idea that's floating around in my head, partially because I have nothing else to do in my free time when I'm not with Rachel than to think of silly things like that.
Now then, back to the focus of the week.
Tomorrow is kind of a day of reckoning when it comes to Kisa. It's at least the first step in deciding what to do with her. Put her down and spend the next month remembering all the moments I've had with her? Keep her alive a little longer because her health isn't as bad as feared and do everything to make her remaining time comfortable?
It's kind of a troubling thing to think about really. I almost feel like a God wielding power over a helpless being. Whether she lives or dies is in my hands.
I've spent the last two days really thinking about all the things that have happened with her over the years. I'm not so much upset at the idea of her possibly being euthanized as maybe some might be, but that's mostly because I've already come to terms with the fact that one day she will be gone. I'm calm about it because as I've stated, she's given me almost 18 good years. It's more than I ever could've hoped for and I know I'll be making an informed decision, not just saying I'm done for the hell of it or keeping her alive longer than she should be.
Having Kisa has been an amazing experience. There's never been any doubts about her being my cat. When I've been gone for a couple days and come home again, she follows me around for a while. She's always slept either next to me or on top of me. When I sit down on the couch, she's right there looking for a lap to lay on.
One of my favorite memories is when we lived in Brunswick and I worked at CVS in Strongsville til 10. I had worked the same shifts for a while and my mom started to tell me how right around when I was supposed to be home, she'd go over to the front door and sit and wait for me. This went on for the longest time, at least up until I started hanging out with Mike regularly after work.
I apologize in advance if I spend a lot of time remembering things with Kisa.
I have almost 18 years worth of memories to possibly catch up on.
Oh, and don't hold your breath on the format thing for the blog. I'll probably forget by tonight anyway.
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