Sympathy Pain

There are a lot of things that suck about being a part time dad. Not having him here all the time. Going half days on holidays and birthdays. The big stuff that you think about when seperated parents come to mind. But lately I’ve been thinking about the little things. Hair cuts. Belly aches at 2:00 am. Coming home wet from playing at a friends. Watching “wipeout” live instead of on TiVo. These are the little life events that you miss when your a part timer.
But, on the flip side, I’m sitting here listening to my 3 favorite people in the world laugh and play. Sarah, Jack, and Tony. There is no black cloud hanging over us. No hidden anger or pain just under the suface. Just love and good times. And as much as I may miss the little events of jack’s life, the fact that when we are together their is geniune happiness helps balance it out quite nicely.I really hope that as he grows and becomes a man, he sees the benifits of a healthy and happy home. I want him to recoginize the love Sarah and I have. That’s the kind of blueprint I want him to strive for when he starts his family.

I love going out on dates with my wife…mostly because she’s a trophy wife. I always feel like people can’t believe this old bald guy is out with the fine piece of ass beautiful young woman. It does my geriatric heart good. And, we have fun. We date well.

But, damn it is hard to make it happen. I have friends with kids that seem to be out all the time. I have no idea how they do it…sans kids.

Now, honestly, I was never a social butterfly. I worked all these amazing professional shows in Atlanta and maybe went to 2 opening nights in 7 years. One of them was a Disney show, so I hung out with Tim Rice and Elton John…ok, we were in the same room. But that really was it. I never felt the need to go out all the time.

My wife, on the other hand, has had a harder time assimilating to married with children. So we try, between work and our own obligations, to date.

But once we threw in a toddler, the dating has definitely slowed down…and the economic down turn…don’t get me started.

But tonight, after asking people all over north Alabama, we have a Baby Sitter. Now, this happens to be the best babysitting team ever…Sarah’s folks. So Sarah and I get to go see a local production of “Sweeny Todd” with a great cast and crew while the grand folks get to listen to Tony snore. Sounds like an even trade.

I hope they know how much we appreciate it.

Holy crap, y’all. I was not ready for this. I realize anytime I drop Tony off at day care, he may explode into tears. And ANYTIME Sarah does, he goes into hysterics, but this utterly floored me like being hit by a cow…with big utters…wait for the mental image…BAM!

Sarh had a show Sunday evening. Fabulous production of “The Merry Wives of Windsor”. She’s all grown up and doing Shakespeare. Anyway, it was a Jack weekend, so I took him home. Tony went with me, because of the afore mentioned obligations the talented Sarah Brown had.

We drove the 30 minutes without incident; sing songs and swapping tales of our opossum killing dog. Then, as we rounded the corner and Jack’s other house was in sight, Tony went nuts. He started screaming and reaching for his brother. Jack didn’t know how to act. It was heart breaking.

Tony cried for about 15 minutes after we dropped Jack off…I just said jack off…until I started sing “twinkle, twinkle”…over and over…He cheered up and the rest of the evening was realitivly normal.

Then, as I came in the house from work yesterday, I hear the following:

“Who is that…Is that daddy?” Sarah asked.

“Jack?”

“No it’s daddy…”

“”Jack? Jack?”

He was disappointed that it was me when he came around the corner. He looked up at me and pointed to the door behind me…”Jack?”

For real…I was not expecting this. I tried to find info online, but everything is based on a traditional sitting…older brother goes to school and younger brother is upset, but sees him in a few hours. Ours is different, but I can’t imagine unique.

What do I do? How do I make Tony understand what’s happening, or can I?

family 060

Originally uploaded by Bryan Comer

Jack and I took at trip to the Space and Rocket center here in Huntsville Al. I played hookey. It was awesome…until I had to go to work anyway.
But we really had a good time. I remember going to the center when I was in 9th grade with the folks. Little did I know I would live in Huntsville one day.

I travel some…mostly in the state of Alabama, but sometimes outside our quaint little backwater state. I see lots of folks, and eat at lots of places. I try very hard not to eat at chain restaurants when I’m out and about. I always like to ask the locals what spots to eat at and which to avoid.

Yesterday I was in Trussville, AL at training. A fellow from Baltimore was showing off his lights made in Yonkers NY. After the training we all went to lunch. The guy from the area picked the restaurant. “Joel’s”

A quaint little buffet kinda place. It was packed. It was mostly a meat and 3 joint, but I could tell by the crowd it was a local favorite.

Well, we got our food and sit down. The food was really good.

But, that really not why I started this post. As we sit there, I noticed a grandfather and his 2 grandchildren sitting near us. The grandfather looked a little bemused and was trying to get the waitress’s attention.

“I never thought this would happen,” I heard him say.

The little girl, about 6 and read headed, had to go to the rest room. He had to take her, but couldn’t leave the 4 year old boy, also with bright red hair, alone.

“I’ll watch him while you’re gone,” the waitress said. And she did. The place was packed. Other wait staff was all over the place. She stayed right next to that little boy for about 5 minutes. Talking to him. Asking questions. At first, he looked like a deer in head lights. But by the end of the pee break, they were best friends.

It was pretty sweet.

So while she was preoccupied with the little brat, we skipped out on the check and left…stupid southerners.*

*I’m from the south. We didn’t skip out. And no animals were injured in the writing of this blog post…but I ate some chicken fried stake at “Joel’s”…

I looked up the term…It generally applies to unwed folks bring up a child together. My ex and I are technically co-parenting Jack. Not married…having input in the rearing of the child.

I have started noticing, however, that there is a huge lack of co-parenting within a married home. I think Sarah and I do pretty well. Last week really brought that into focus. Sarah was in Tech week for her show, Merry Wives of Windsor, and I was alone in the evenings with the Binja. He has a nighttime routine. Eat, play, eat, play some more, splasha splash, lotion, brush teeth, to bed. Not hard..Unless he poops in the tube, then eww…

Side note: our dishwasher has a sanitize setting and his bath toys fit nicely into the top rack.

Although we missed the momma, he was happily asleep when she got home.

I am just amazed at how the old school gender roles are still alive today. By alive I mean like a rotting zombie…or Jon and Kate’s marriage… And it’s not really a generational thing. A co-worker’s daughter, who is not old enough to drink, has a little one. The husband really has that stoneage opinion that the woman should do what the woman is built to do…whatever the hell that means. She can’t even go to sork and trust that hubby is going to pick up the little one from grammy’s. And what is he doing while she works? “Stuff”

Stuff…really? I do stuff all the time…with my children. My wife can rely on me. If she couldn’t, my “stuff” would get put up on the shelf and not used until she could rely on me. (Sex reference)

Anyway. I just think we need to re-evaluate gender roles in the parenting world. Men, learn to do everything child related. She’s going to find something better anyway, and leave you homeless with a kid, trying to get an internship with Dean Witter…I watched “Pursuit of Happiness” this weekend.

The tournament has started. 9 year old kid pitch. The Cougars, Jack’s team, are somewhere in the upper/middle part of the bracket.

They had their first game Saturday. My folks came in. It was like 90 degrees at 4:30 when the game was to begin. We showed up and found shade for them to sit in.

The game started. We were home team. The team we were playing against had beaten the undefeated team that skunked us 12-0 a in the last game of the season. After they scored 5 runs on us in the first inning and we answered with 0, I was about ready to throw in the towel. Tony was tired and hot, so Sarah took him home.

Then, we held them in the second inning, but our middle of the rotation was coming up. Not the big hitters, but the pretty steady guys. Jack is one of them. The player before him doubled. Then jack hit one down the 3^rd base line. Now my son is fast…when he wants to be. The ball rolled to the fence. By the time someone got to it, he was rounding 2^nd and the other kid had scored. The ball was cut off at 2^nd base and he was around 3^rd. he crossed home as the ball was almost there, making an inside the park home run. Yeah Baby!

We scored another 2 runs that inning.

We take the outfield and the first batter strikes out. The 2^nd batter hits a fly to right field. Jack is there to make the out. The 3^rd out comes from a great catch at 3^rd base. Jack actually comes to bat again in this inning, with 2 on. He hits a double and gets 2 more rbi’s. He steals 3^rd. unfortunately the 3^rd base coach sends him at the wrong time to try to teal home, and he gets tagged out. Now it was a bad call cause the kid had the ball in his ungloved hand and tagged him with is glove…to the face…but I try not to argue with the ump… ol’ blindy as I like to call him.

We went on to win 10-8. That’s right, without my son’s slugging ability, the game would have been very different. And his defense.

It was a pretty awesome game. And he doesn’t want to play next year. Belch. I am of two minds. One, I don’t want to push him. Two, I do want him to play a sport that he shows aptitude in.

He quit swim team. I am making him pay me back. Next year baseball will be all kid pitch. No mercy rules of 3 walks and the coach pitches. You can lead off to steal. I think he would like it better…so what do I do? His mom wants him to play, especially since this would be his only summer sport.

Maybe it’s time to try theatre…Just saying.

Charlie killed again. I think twice. It was O’possums this time. I wasn’t sure if the first one was realy dead so I dropped him over the fence into a drainage area. you know what that say about possums. Then the next day, a for real dead possum was in the back yard.
But who cares? I hate possums. they are dirty, mean little critters. They have been placed on this earth to spread disease and commit suicide.
So here is the third installment of Charlie’s killing spree.

moar funny pictures

The boys and I had an all guy night. Jack was dropped of at work, and I picked Tony up about 5:30. We went to Target then on to Chik-fil-a. Why chik-fil-a? Well, other than their delicious chicken sandwiches, they have a play fort. One of Jack’s favorite things in the world.

Jack finished his dinner, and tried to pretend that he didn’t want to hit the playfort. He’s 9 now, you know. but the primal instict was to great.
After seeing his brother getting crazy on the play for, Tony had to try…Can you tell he has bowing of the tibia? He can’t.

I placed him in his car seat. That was my job. He had that stupid pink and blue cap on his head, the one that some one decided every hospital should use…and the blanket. He did have multiple reasons for the cap though. Firstly, it kept his head warm…on a day that was 90 degrees in the shade. Secondly, he had a bell jar shaped skull. His head was so big, the doctor had used a toilet plunger to pull him out. That tends to leave a round indention in your soft, newly formed, skull.

He looked so little, like this car seat was made for a giant baby, not this little guy. We went downstairs, with all the gifts we could haul. I also had pilfered as many diapers, wipes, cans of formula, and blankets as I could find in the room. Hell, my insurance had paid for them all. Down to the Pathfinder I had traded my truck for, just for this occasion.

I was wearing my “New Dad” shirt my father had bought me in the hospital gift shop. It fit me well…being the right size AND announcing to the world the warning…”stupid sperm donor approaching.”

We had to get home to met the nurse that was bringing his phototherapy straight jacket. He was slightly jaundiced. His eyes had a slight yellow tint and his skin as well. Breastfeeding and tanning bed are the normal prescription. So we had to get home and receive the tanning jacket.

We get home. The cats are…curious. He’s relatively peaceful. All seems right in this new father’s world.

Then we put the jacket of searing pain on him, and he begins to explode. It immediately sounded like we had dropped him in a vat of acid. We had been warned that he “wouldn’t like it”…but after about 30 seconds of baby torture, we stopped the treatment. He was soaking wet from sweet and urine. Welcome to your new home baby.

I hadn’t thought of that day in years. I mean, really thought about everything that happen, until Jack and I stumbled upon the topic last week.

“I almost returned you and ask for my money back.” I told him after telling him the story.

“But you didn’t.”

“Almost…but what an amazing young man I would have missed out on if I had.”

Happy birthday, fathead. I love you.

“I don’t know dad. I’m just really nervous.”

“Jack, it’s just a time trail. You’re not even racing. Just swimming. Once you’re in the water, you have 2 choices…swim or drowned. So choose the right one, and don’t think about the timer.”

“But, I’m really nervous.”

“You swim all the time. You are really good. You wanted to do the swim team again this year. You did great last year. It’ll be ok.”

“What if they tell me to do the butterfly stroke? I don’t know how to do that.”

“Well, tell them…I don’t know how to do that. Don’t just jump in and try, tell them you don’t know how. Try it…’I don’t know how to do that.’”

“Okay…”

We get there 30 minutes before the swimming time trial…to warm up. The coaches’ orders. Of course, they didn’t warm up until 6:15. Jack sat with his team mates for 45 minutes getting more and more freaked out about the time trails. I could tell this was not going to end well.

His mom shows up to watch. I have Tony, who is grumpy because it’s hot, he has drunk all his juice, he can’t just run around the pool, and it’s his bed time. Awesomeness.

They finally get to Jack’s age group. About 20 kids in just that one group. Jack let’s everyone else go first. Finally he gets on the platform to dive in. He starts…swimming like an extra in Piranha 3.

“Why is he swimming so hard…and why are his goggles on his head and not over his eyes?” his mom asked.

Tony smacks me in the nose. “Cause he’s not very smart sometimes.”

About halfway back on his first lap, he starts holding onto the rope, struggling.

“Crap” I think.

“Is he crying?” his grandmother asked.

Sure enough, he has psyched himself out. He gets out, crying and holding his stomach.

I head over, and he’s talking to another coach. She’s trying to calm him down and talk about anything else. Favorite color…favorite made up swimming stroke. Anything.

Mom comes over and starts asking a lot of “whys?” He gets spooled up again.

“I want to go home.”

“But why don’t you just stay and watch.”

“I don’t care. I want to go home.”

Well, in the water, having a panic attack is not a good place to be, so we head out.

I need advice. His mom thinks this sets a “quitter’s” attitude. Now he will feel he can get away with it at any sign of a hard task. I think swimming is not a team sport, and this is a localized reaction. I really don’t think this will set him in the “easy way out” frame of mind.

The plan is to get him to a meet and let him watch before he decides. I’m going to take him to the Y and get some swimming in for fun before that.

What do you think?

I remember forty being a lot further away.

My wife is freakin hoot.

Nose hair…what the hell? It’s like I snorted a trible.

I’m not in as bad of shape as I could be…

I still like to nap because I can, not because I have to.

Is it me, or is the sex better?

Children should not be allowed to drive…and be children I mean those how can’t remember the 80’s.

Old farts shouldn’t be able to drive…and by old I mean those who don’t know what Twitter is.

I miss being able to eat crap and not…crap for days. Now I eat anything and crap for days.

I love my kids.

I don’t understand people who don’t spend as much time with their kids as possible.

I don’t do cartwheels anymore. Might have to bring that back.

I don’t remember faces like I used to. Still bad with names, but faces are now starting to escape me.

I use to say, “It doesn’t matter where you get hungry, as long as you go home to eat.” Now, when I do get “hungry” what I have at home is all I crave.

That was about sex.

I HATE that damn McCafe ad campaign.

When the hell did I get a double chin?

I love sushi.

That wasn’t about sex.

I am a democrat.

Republicans have begun to piss me off…sorry dad.

I’d love a vacation.

I’m afraid I’ll never travel outside the country.

I’m afraid I’ll never be able to retire.

I’m afraid I won’t always satisfy my wife.

Losing your hair is not all that bad.

Losing your keys for the 1000^th time is.

It’s ok to have pop tarts for breakfast and chocolate cereal for dinner.

I have finally become comfortable in my own skin.

And the skin of others.