Recycling Day: The Reversal

I've been wanting to re-post this blog for a little while now. It probably isn't the best in terms of writing, but I enjoy the pictures and the fuzzy memories.

So here we go:

Eating Through a Vasectomy Reversal

originally posted August 2009

Before all this familial madness I've been documenting here at the ole blog, I had surgery. On my junk.

But you knew that already.

At this point, I am about 90% recovered and 2 weeks post-op ( I'll explain that 10% in a bit). It was actually my wife that reminded me, as I sat in the living room wishing I had something to do, that I had yet to tell the tale of my vasectomy reversal. All this build up and no pay off?? That's no way for a "pleaser" to act!

Last you heard I was packing up and heading to see Dr. Daniel for my reversal and, well, it was fun. Yes, I know the idea of scalpels and sutures on one's genitals isn't the normal definition of fun...well, for most of us...
Don't worry, all you co-workers and relatives (yes, I know you're out there) here to try and figure out "what is wrong with that Culver boy", genital mutilation is not it.

But yes, it was in fact an enjoyable trip. Do I wish it didn't have to happen? Well, of course I do, but like I keep saying, we make the best of it. And since there are no original ideas left, in honor of our good friend, supporter and fellow blogger Liz , I present "Eating through a vasectomy reversal"

I also promise, no more links this post! Just lots of pictures! (my tribute to my wife's picture blogs ... shit, that was another link...)



Why aren't you excited? OH ... no, no, not pictures of that (or should I say those...?) pictures of myself with various food items which were, besides my pre-op cocktail of meds, the highlight of the trip. (where did you think I got the title eating through a vasectomy reversal??)

We dropped Jules off at his grandparents a bit before noon and hit the road for our wonderful pilgrimage to Burlington, NC to see Dr. Daniel. We had reserved a room for the next two nights since it was a 5+ hour drive and my consult was at 9am with surgery following and a night of rest needed after that.

On the trip down, we began our culinary escapades in Beckley, WV. Why Beckley? Well, we were hungry by that point, and when in the southern part of the state, we always try to make a stop at Macado's.

Not familiar with Macado's? Well, with locations mainly in Virginia, around Roanoke and Blacksburg, I'm not surprised. Maybe it's just nostalgia, but I have yet to find a better menu of sandwiches. Although, I personally would suggest making your way to Bluefield because I always thought their Macado's was higher quality. Of course you would never know it is there because anything worth checking out in Bluefield (quit laughing) isn't advertised alongside the interstate!


Then when you take the exit, you find yourself on what is primarily an empty road, except for the old Wisdom Channel studios, but unless you're some kind of whacked-out hippie, that holds no appeal. That road takes a couple miles before you hit what appears to be another empty road, but left or right at that point, you'll hit something... I'd be specific, but at that point you're just glad to find civilzation again. (macado's, and the 3/4 empty mall, are to the right)

Our journey to Burlington was quiet and uneventful, except for my wife cowering like a bunny as we went through East River and Big Walker Mountain tunnels. Oh, well we did get kinda lost when we were right on top of Burlington. I blame Yahoo! maps because, well, they're horrible and have always sent me on crazy routes, but Jess uses Yahoo! like an old man uses the same mechanic that keeps cheating him. ( love you , dear)

Our first order of business, after finding the hotel, which both yahoo and google thought was on a different part of the road than it was, was to hunt down Red Robin. We'd always been interested in going to a Red Robin, but it became a priority after we saw it on Top Chef (new season just started! Wed @ 10 on Bravo..WATCH IT!( ...if I had more readers, I'd start charging for all these plugs... Anyway, gourmet burgers is their specialty, but the fact that they had Guinness on tap made my day. 'Tis a rare gem to enjoy a Guinness from the tap, at least in WV.

Don't worry, I only had one. But of course we went for the burgers (although the bottomless steak fries were spiffy too) and while they may not have been the greatest chunks of meat we'd had, the toppings were good. I had the royal (I believe...) with a fried egg on it. You cringe, but it was tasty!

So after an evening of exploring the area, we settled in and rested up for the big day.

I was a little nervous going into the consultation. Worried they might decide it was a wasted trip for some wild reason. "I'm sorry sir, you're belly button is too low for us to perform this procedure." !?!?!

But it went really well. Dr. Daniel and his staff were all really pleasant. Like, really. I'm a bit standoffish myself, and really don't like overly nice people, but I wanted to hang out with these folks! Dr. Daniel himself was pretty straightforward about everything, as well as being very confident in his skill, but without making me think some high school football star was working on my fellas.

He even joked with us about a few things, including some of the various doctors we'd researched, and even made a few dinner suggestions! But before we get to that, we have the best "meal" of all: the pre-op cocktail. Dr. Daniel explained that 1)to keep costs down [no anesthesiologist] and 2) to avoid any of the complications and weirdness of intravenous drugs, he has his patients take a selection of meds about 1/2 hour before the operation. This only included a couple of painkillers, and mostly items to help avoid infection, keep me sleepy, and deter any side effects of other drugs (like benadryl for itchiness).

So we headed to the local Target, which was AWESOME...made our Target at home look like a Big Lots. (Starting to feel like the Beverly Hillbillies here.) So we picked up my drugs and a converter for the X-box so we'd have something to do while I rest.

We also, conveniently, got a preview of what my recovery would be like...



The fact of the matter is that I've never really had reason to be on any kind of major painkillers or prescription drugs, period. Even with the vasectomy I only took a few tylenol w/ codine, and the painkillers I was prescribed for my wisdom teeth removal were apparently for us to make a mortgage payment because I never really needed them. Well, from the time I took this cocktail, with a side of McDonalds, at 12:10, to the time we were at the doc's office at 12:25, I thought I was back in college.

What felt like 10 minutes later, Dr. Daniel was turning off his ipod stereo thing (I can't remember what music it was, but I remember enjoying it) and telling me I could get dressed. With my years of experience maneuvering while intoxicated, and judging from the look on the doctor and my wife's faces, I made my way back to the waiting area much quicker than expected. Apparently things went very well from Dr. Daniel's viewpoint and he was very happy with the procedure...except, of course, for my legendary snoring (probably should've warned him).

After this I was fairly coherent for the ride back to the hotel. I even hooked up the X-Box converter and after a bit tried to play. Instead I just kept waking up with my character facing a corner ala Blair Witch. From there, things are hazy, but I do remember a few things:


Remember Dr. Daniel suggested some fine local eateries? Well, we opted for The Village Grill, which specializes in a 'key lime chicken' that they use in various dishes.

Here's how I remember it:

BEST. FUCKING. CHICKEN. EVER.

Yes, the "fucking" was absolutely necessary. I remember being very thankful that Jess went out and got it, but also having a flash of anger that she didn't buy more. Then I passed out again.

Feeling guilty that I was spending our "romantic getaway" half-passed out and trying to play X-box, I got Jess to make some coffee for me. Little known fact: I love cheap hotel coffee.

See? I told you so. Even better was that on her next trip to the ice machine for me, Jess made another stop:

Where she bought the, you guessed it:

BEST. FUCKING. SNICKERS. EVER.

I'm sorry that this blog is turning into an endorsement for taking percocets before your meals, but honestly, it was like tasting food for the first time!

Alas, we finally gave into sleep and rested for the night. I penguin-walked my way downstairs for breakfast in the morning (I just can't pass up the free continentals) where everyone thought I was the guy that left the Natural Light case out in the hallway. What can I say, I looked the part.

Armed with a couple of instant-cold packs, I bravely took the wheel and started us on the drive home. Here's a tip: instant-cold packs don't stay nearly cold enough long enough for this kind of operation. Those suckers were gone fast. Luckily, we were hungry and stopped at a Hardees for lunch and then Jess took over driving duties while I enjoyed the

BEST. FUCKING. CUP-of-ICE. EVER.

So, that is the story of my vasectomy reversal, of which I mainly remember the food. Lucky for you, the wife and I are tag-teaming this one, so she'll have an whole other take on it which I'm sure you'll enjoy (there's a porn store in her story!)


On a final note, my apologies if you came here looking for serious information about vasectomy reversals. Search through the rest of our 'quest' and it's there, you just have to dig through my bad jokes. But hey, I've never tried to say that I wasn't

Corny.

Return of the Blog

My kids are pretty fucking amazing.

I mean, I know your kids are pretty cool too, but seriously, my kids? Total rockstars.

Now sure, I realize that feeling is probably some kind of genetic response to insure I actually take care of my kids, and that every sane parent feels that way (and certainly even some of the insane ones). This of course is not uncommon knowledge. The fact that parents loooOOOooove their kids is pretty well documented throughout the course of history. Excluding that Abraham guy. Man, what a douchebag. (and if that story didn't make you scratch your head a bit when you first heard it, well, God wants you buy some magic beans. Fortunately, I have some! leave your banking information in the comments section)

So yeah, everyone knows parents love their kids, but the issue is how many non-parents understand it? It pains me to ask that question, because there is nothing that screams "asshole" to me more than a parent who avoids a conversation about their parenting with some variation of "you couldn't understand unless you have kids". The one that really gets me is "you'll understand when your kids are older". Recently, however, I've been starting to see the nugget of legitimacy in the middle of that steaming pile of avoidance.

For instance, we recently had CPS called on us. Yes, really. It was total B.S. and was ruled to be an unfounded claim. Get the story in all its hilarity at the link above. When I told my boss I needed to go home to deal with this and meet with the CPS worker, it was pretty clear I was only getting to leave because he knew he couldn't not let me go. Sure, I know its a hassle, but CPS is serious shit man!

A more pertinent example involves my wife, Jess. More specifically, my wife's psychologist. In diagnosing her with post-traumatic stress, he stated in fairly direct terms, that it was completely abnormal to still be thinking of Joel on a daily basis close to two years after his death. (Again, you can get the full details at her blog) Now sure, my wife was there for a reason, but am I crazy for thinking that it's ridiculous to suggest we shouldn't still be thinking of Joel?

Yeah, we realize days of intense sadness shouldn't be the norm, and they aren't by any means, but NOT think of him? We do kinda have two walking, talking reminders running around this place. It should be no surprise that every milestone we celebrate for Jules and Blair is accompanied by the reality that we will never celebrate these things for Joel.

I mean, he is our son. We have pictures. His ashes, clothes and blanket sit in our bedroom. We keep a lock of his hair (seriously, dude had some thick, curly hair). We do not deny or ignore him; we accept and celebrate our lost son. Our loss is a fact of our lives. His death and the experiences surrounding it quite literally changed our lives. To not think of him, I believe, would be insane. I think most people could "understand" that. Not like we expect you to completely empathize, or that we should never have to explain or explore how we're feeling. But yeah, I think its understandable.

So here we are, heading into his second birthday. Tomorrow marks two years he since we were told Joel had died. It would be two more days before he was born. I've probably said it a million times at this point (but hey, its a blog reboot, so I can repeat some things), I know how difficult those days were for me, and though I was right there the whole time, I couldn't begin to imagine what it must've been like for Jess.

So if we're little off, here at the end of May, you'll have to forgive us. Maybe let us know you "understand", or give a smile (or a bottle of booze).

----------------------------------------

N ow, lets talk about YOU. If you're new here, go play in the archives. There's plenty more about the wonders of being a DB Daddy. And some funny too! (honestly, if you want the funny, start with The Quest, cause my balls are hilarious) With any luck I'll get back in the habit of updating more often. Probably with shorter entries and varied subject matter. As for now, my lil rockstars are demanding an audience.

Hungry Geller

Something very odd happened last May.

No, not my son dying in the womb, at a full 40 weeks, although that was a different and devastating occurrence.

No, not my family being... um... shitty. While also odd, it wasn't completely unexplained.

No, before all these things, I inexplicably lost 20 lbs. One day while I was vainly making faces in the mirror (also not an uncommon event), I noticed that I appeared to have increased in rugged handsomeness. I hopped on the scale, and much to my fast food eating surprise, I'd dropped 20 lbs!

Not long after this, we lost Joel.

Once I regained my appetite, I found solace in food. And once we were both ready and willing to go out in public again, it was food and drink...and drink... and occasionally another drink. Honestly, it had been two or three years since I had really drank, so I'd expected my tolerance to have fallen. I have to say that fortunately, it had not (my wife may disagree with this).

As you may guess, the magical 20 lbs came right back. It was as if my psychic-belly had foreseen a need for emotional eating on the horizon. So this year, as May 26-28 lay on the horizon, I started making an effort to lose a little weight. I don't think I was consciously prepping for these dates, but I certainly felt an urge to lose a bit (not that it isn't needed anyway).

The point of this entry? I really want a pizza. A greasy, cheesy pizza that I can gorge on while working my shadow into a permanent design on the couch. Maybe some Doritos too.

Yes, Wife, I know. Pizza is on the 'no-no' list this pregnancy. Which leads to one more reason I'm excited for Blair to get here. :)

Daddy Moment

One year ago, yesterday, May 26th, we found out that Joel, our son, would never cry to us for comfort, never stare into our souls with wide, wondering eyes, never squeeze our fingers with his small, searching grasp; our son, still cradled lovingly in my wife's womb, had died.

I remember thinking of him as a rambunctious child. He seemed to make it a point to startle his mother with oddly-timed and placed kicks and pinches in utero. I remember her crying out in the bath one night; Joel had apparently dropkicked her spleen. She was laughing; I was enamored, watching the water tremor, and even splash a little, from the force of his kicks. That night we knew we had one special little man on the way.

After he was born, one year ago tomorrow, May 28th, still and beautiful, with a head of hair you wouldn't believe; perfect in every way but the most important, I accompanied one of the nurses to take his picture. It was my one moment where I got to do a real "parent thing": adjusting his little cap, tucking his blanket up around him - just grooming him for his perfect portrait. (It HAD to be perfect)

Thank you, Joel, for the comforts and joys you've brought us; the way you've touched our souls and forever left your print on our hearts.

Happy Birthday, little bud.

Smokescreen

Introspection wears thin and I find myself just wanting to slip further and further into distraction.

The one year mark is fast approaching and as of right now I think my plan is to crawl up into this patch of brush in the backyard, into this spot where the branches and the briers form a little cave. I'll just curl up there in the leaves and the dirt and just...be.

Maybe, there in my little Dagobah, I'll face down whatever it is that has me feeling much more comfortable in the emotional ambiguity of Internet time-wasters and news stories.

That, however, would be quite unfair to my wife, so maybe instead I'll set that camo tarp on fire.

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...

zzzZZZZ**KKzkkzK** ZZZzzzzZZZZZ

I keep attempting to get a blog written, but I'm a bit too busy snoring...and subsequently destroying my wife's sanity.

To my understanding, I am one hell of a snorer, and have been for years. When I used to travel with my college Model UN group, I was eventually relegated to bunking with our professor after a trip to New York where my snoring inspired an other-wise polite teammate, who was also a cop back home, to eagerly pronounce his desire for his sidearm. Said professor slept using a C-PAP machine, so he didn't mind the snoring because he couldn't hear it over his own Vader-esque breathing.

Finally after years of friends and, um, co-sleepers, complaining of my nocturnal rumblings but also detailing the fact that I would occasionally stop breathing all-together, -- and the added fact that as a student, University health care would help pay -- I went and got a sleep study. (I could explain the road-blocks my family threw out to keep me from seeking medical advice, but it's the same story with different nouns at this point)

Now let me tell you, nothing recreates your normal sleeping habits like having 20+ wires and monitors strapped to you, including about 10 on your head and face. Diagnosis: mild sleep-apnea. Apparently the emphasis was on 'mild' because they actually told me I didn't really have any problems and sent me on my way. I didn't actually receive the "diagnosis" until I went in for my vasectomy (same hospital) and it was in the computer. Now I've also been told I have abnormally large tonsils, which is probably another issue.

So not only do I snore to the point that I wake up tired and would literally just pass out around 4 o'clock no matter what I was doing, I'd also started snoring to the point that my wife can't get any rest (difficult enough of a challenge for a pregnant woman) and now I'm waking up Jules as well. So yeah; it's bad.

So what did I do? To avoid the C-PAP, and knowing I can't get my tonsils taken out any time soon, I bought an anti-snoring mouthpiece: pulls the lower jaw forward to where your teeth lineup, pulling your tongue away from the back of your throat, which is often the cause of snoring.

Does it work? Well, I'm still in the stages of "getting used to it", but I feel like it was making some improvements. "was"? Yeah, I say that because two nights ago I apparently managed to snore through my mouthpiece, which created a whole new symphony of strange bodily noises. Then last night Jules wasn't sleeping without my arm under him, so I never got my mouthpiece. Silly, sleepy me never thought to grab the mouthpiece all those times I was back up with Jules, trying to calm him back to sleep. Apparently I should have, as my house-shaking snores returned full force. Now I'm left trying to figure out where to get flowers during a major snowstorm...

**update** most disappointing "major storm" ever. I can still see the grass! ...Now I really have no excuse to not buy flowers...

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!