Top Five

Over Spring Break, I built a swingset. Now, if you know my wife, you probably understand that this was not going to be your average, metal swingset that we all grew up on. Now, neither of us have a problem with the metal swingsets. In fact, I have many fond memories of playing on my friends'. I remember it like it was yesterday...

Listening to the creaking joints as my friend and I sat face to face, almost uncomfortably so, on the teeter-totter swing of doom. Rust sprinkling down on us as the motion made the two-person swing slowly work its way lower as if it were the device of choice from The Pit and the Pendulum. And lets not forget that sudden rush of fear as someone swung too high, or leaned back too far on the slide steps, bringing the whole set down like a renegade ferris wheel. Oh, and lets not forget washing the rust off my hands before heading inside.

Personally I think imminent danger is a selling point for the traditional swingset, adding an additional element of fun in the minds of every boy on the planet. Luckily, we also like big, wooden castles. So when my wife decided that we should buy a large, wooden swingset (w/ slides, platforms, and...labor), I thought, "cool." Refreshingly, she showed some concern about what kind we should buy, wondering if we should "start small", to which I replied (puffing out my chest), "go big, or go home."

I should've gone home. I worked on this thing nearly every day of my Spring Break, and still have a few small items to fix or add. Still, I'm proud of my accomplishment (the amusing story of its construction has been copyrighted by my wife, so it will be showing up at her blog).

But who is not proud of it? My neighbor.

Now maybe she didn't realize what my wife was explaining to her when it was all explained beforehand. Or maybe she just didn't think it would be as big as it is. Regardless, it is only her reaction that I really care about, and only because besides being an aggravation (and embarrassment), it's pretty damn funny.

Yes, she put up a tarp.

The BEST part of this, however, is what she did after she realized her tarp wasn't quite big enough. She replaced it with...

wait for it...

A CAMO TARP!

Actually, like 7 panels of Camo. Classy, all-American Camo.

At this point outrage has been taken over by sheer amusement at just how ridiculous this is. So what does one DO about 60 feet of Camo tarp bordering your backyard?

Well, I made a top 5 list (would go for 10, but I ran out of props)

5. Inspirational setting to pledge your love....

to Rambo: First Blood

4. BUBBA!!

...what? This doesn't scream "Forrest Gump" to you?

Just be impressed with the Pee-Wee toys.

3. "The first casualty of war

is innocence."

"Platoon" ...*sigh* I really love that movie.

Fozzy as Willem Dafoe is a stroke of genius, if you ask me.

Think what you will of my casting of Disney Characters as the Viet Cong.

2. Pretend you are on the set of M.A.S.H.

Jules studied for his part for days...

1. Film YouTube messages for your Anti-Government Militia.

Digs at the truth more than any of this other works

Yup, we're still surviving.

I'll keep ya posted on the camo developments...

Ask a DB Dad (or "Dear Weirdo..."

Allright, I figure it's been long enough since the last post, and since that last one was certainly me grasping at straws (and I realized that the promised zombie talk just ain't gonna work...least not yet), I've been thinking of some worth-while topics. So considering the origins of this here bloggy blog, and the fact that most of the DB parent support/advice I found, while awesomely helpful, inspirational and comforting, rarely touched on the dead-baby daddy side of things, I thought maybe I'd try and give some insights, or at least open up some discussion, into this DB dad experience.

Now before I go off yakking, and before someone logs on here thinking I'm some kind of expert, let me lay out what will probably be the general disclaimer for any of these "Ask a DB Dad" posts.

If there is such a thing as an expert on being the parent of a dead baby, it certainly ain't me. I'm not even a year into this journey yet and I'm certainly still looking for answers myself. I have, however, seen, read, heard and experienced a few things that I feel might be worth sharing with those unfortunate enough to join this club.

Everyone's experience is different. We've all come to this place different paths, in different ways: no one "knows exactly how you feel". Be it that your loss came as a miscarriage, stillbirth, or the loss of a child after their birth, everyone seems to feel that pain in their own way.

That being said, there are plenty of blogs and boards out there where DB parents can share. But if you are a DB dad, you'll find that most of these places are populated with the mothers of our children, and as welcoming as they are, and as much as we feel the same pain, the experience just isn't quite the same.

no shit? really? Okay, so I know its kind of obvious, but it's something to keep in mind as you go out there in search of support and, more importantly, as you support yo' baby's mama. As caught up as I was in my own feelings after Joel died, I did have to kind of remind myself that my wife might not simultaneously feel the same things I felt. Just the same, we certainly might not deal with it the same way.

Well, okay, we kinda did: housework distractions, gallows humor, and lots of reading/writing. The big thing was that we let it be okay to emote: and thats probably the one thing these Mommas are so good at that I suggest the DB daddies adopt: let yourself be emotional, at least a bit. This is a big thing with lots of big emotions in play, and yes, that DB Momma needs you to be strong and manly and all those things, but she also needs to know it's okay for her to share all her emotions with you.

Now I'm working off the idea that in this situation you and momma are on good terms or at least maintain some kind of relationship. If not, I'm certainly not judging, because, well hey, some women can't be lived with...or maybe you're the one who couldn't be lived with, but thats totally something for you and your therapist (or lawyer) to work out.

As easy as it might be, and as much of a natural reaction as it might be to simply shut down and block it all out, sitting in the basement playing X-box for three days straight with an ever growing pile of empty Dorito bags surrounding you isn't going to be the best way to handle things. (God, that does sound like heaven though...)

Same thing goes for completely remodeling your house. Or building a Camaro....from scratch. Being productive and doing stuff is a GOOD thing, but don't delve so far in that you shut off the other half of the parent equation. Yes, from the moment that pregnancy test came up positive, she's been getting tons more attention than you, and now that tragedy has struck she is still most likely the focus of most of the love and support from others (it's just natural dude, it's nothing against you, it's just the same thing as how they don't throw baby showers for dads...we just go out drinking), she needs to know she's going through this with you. Amazingly, you'll find that it makes things a little easier to process for yourself as well.

Now ladies, you aren't off the hook either, that DB Daddy needs the same thing, but be careful not to act interested in his 62-hour X-box marathon: we totally take that as permission for an additional 24 hours.

Venus, Mars, etc. etc., yeah, men and women are gonna deal with this differently, just like every individual will; but at the end of the day, you've gotta recognize that as individual as you are, as solitary as your story is, you're still not alone. Those emotions you've got driving you crazy right now, that you don't know what to do with, they aren't unheard of, they aren't taboos. 'Dealing' with it is not the same as 'ignoring' it.

So if you can't find anywhere else, use the anonymity of the Internet and toss me a comment or a question. If not, keep coming back. Now that we've set the stage, we can get into more dad-specific posts (I would've said Dad-centric, but thats taken...and worth clicking).

Support:

babylossdirectory.blogspot.com

wvinfantloss.blogspot.com

Me time..?

So my imaginary friends ask me, "Adam, what is it that you do in your spare time?"

A question to which I generally respond, in typical parent fashion, "spare time? What's that?"

My "spare time" generally consists of short moments where Jules is distracted with Blues Clues, his art easel, or something else. In those quick 2 or 3 minute spurts of "spare time" I'll read a paragraph of something, post something on Facebook so I feel like a part of the world, or maybe type the first 3 sentences for a blog/writing idea. That is, if I don't have some household chore to go and take care of first.

Typically those household chores relate to the center of my universe. And what, you ask (my dear, imaginary friend), is the center of my universe? Is it my lovely wife whom I've turned into an expert on being pregnant over the past 3 years (you're welcome honey)? No, it is not.

What about my son, the boy-who-hates-sleep? Do I spend my spare time plotting against the bane of my existence, which is in fact his sleep schedule? Do I use my finely tuned brain to create skillful calculations and algorithms to determine how to fix this sleepless situation? If we get him up a 'x' time he'll surely be tired by 'n' at which point he ought to nap for 'a' hours and then be ready for sleep by 'b'

-- You see, once upon a time, my son slept a whole night in his crib (more than one actually) but then he got a little sick. He then had a nice long series of colds and what-nots that kept him from sleeping well. It just so happened that these illnesses occurred at the exact same time his sleep habits were forming. Now, he has ALWAYS fought sleep, and more so than any other child on earth (I'll stand by that statement) but after the sicklies, he ONLY falls asleep on Daddy's shoulder. if you "awwwwwww", I'll slap you. Think of the reality of this situation as I sit here typing, wondering if I should sell myself to IKEA as the prototype for a toddler bed...out of context, that joke could be very pedophile-ish.. not good.

BUT no, that is not the center of my universe, nor is my son in general, sadly.

No, my world revolves around one thing. One horrible, stinky thing: poop.

Poop is the center of my universe. Has been for years.

Started out when I worked at a group home for the mentally challenged/disturbed. You can imagine what my poop dealings were like there...on second thought, you probably can't. *shudder*

I left that job to put up with middle schooler's shit, and their parents shit, and the Education System's shit, etc. etc.

Then came the baby poo and my family's shit.

Then there's this group: shit to do around the house, 8 cats in my house that mostly use the litter box, and a puppy being housebroken ( who managed to somehow pop off, and chew up, the 'down arrow' on my netbook -- not sure if I'm bitching or bragging on that one. This all counts as my wife's shit. However, in exchange for 3 nights of not having to take an extra 5 minutes in the shower *wink wink* over the past 3 years, these are my responsibility because pregnant women aren't supposed to handle certain shit. Considering the disappointment she had to put up with on those 3 particular nights, and the whole 'creating life' thing, I figure its a fair enough trade.

So yeah, my life, shit; you get the point. But that isn't to say that I'm unhappy, or don't give a shit (couldn't resist), that is very much the opposite of my situation, but in regard to free time, well, I've got shit to do. (okay, that one was on purpose)

I do like talking about zombies though...maybe next post.........what the fuck kinda zombies do you talk about on a DB blog? eek!