good job

as of today i'm worth $1 million, sort of. that is to say, i upgraded my life insurance policy to that amount, so my wife gets $1 million when i vacate this world. that's assuming i die before her, which is bound to happen since women tend to outlive men when it boils down to natural causes. the one thing us men have going is that we age more gracefully than women, so at least when we reach the point where one foot is in the grave, we can still look good.

my sense of humor is often pitch black. i laugh at scenes in horror films that are meant to terrify and induce nightmares. when people die in action films, i laugh my ass off as i rewind the scene to watch it again. not lost on me is the fact that this is rather fucked up. at the same time, it is what it is and does not tend to manifest itself in macabre ways, so whatever.

today as we finalized the terms on our new life insurance policies with our financial planner in my conference room, i tried out a concept i recently developed about how to cash in. the essence of it, as i described, is if times get really tough and the family needs a windfall, my wife and i flip a coin or play rock/paper/scissors (2 out of 3, of course) to decide who goes out to run errands, loses control of the vehicle, and plunges off a bridge into the potomac river. needless to say, the scenario didn't elicit a chuckle or a smile. tough audience today.

in other news, i did a good job of drinking my coffee this morning. i also did a good job of taking a shower. oh, and let's not forget the good job i did at feeding the dog, putting on shoes, and retrieving the paper from the front yard. the jackal has developed a tendency of endorsing and encouraging the very basic things i do lately, parroting the words of encouragement i dispense for him on a daily basis in reaction to his following directions. essentially, no one can do wrong in the house these days, which feels kind of good. i could probably throw a brick through the neighbor's window then tell him to fuck his mother, and the jackal would say, "good job, dad!"

all of the above is true, but this post is really just an excuse to mention that my wife has finally crossed the threshold and launched a blog.

blogger ID

it's really nice having my wife back. i bitched and vented probably way too much about not having my partner in crime during her pregnancy, as if i was the one dealing with real physical, emotional and mental hardship along the way. (sorry about that, r) and while there is certainly a transition period to deal with, what with the new baby routine and all, it's just a pleasure to be able to catch a wine buzz and chill with her.

the potential issue with that -- the novelty of getting wine drunk seems to be taking the shape a bottle-or-more-per-night habit, which finds me feeling like a beef jerky lizard most mornings. "dry" hardly begins to convey how these red wine hangovers feel. (the fact that radiators rock the heat in out house certainly lends to that.) for example, at the risk of disclosing too much information, today i pounded water and green tea all morning at the office and did not hit the men's room for business of the #1 variety until 1pm. dehydrated much?

so, tonight and the rest of this week i am taking a break and saving myself for our first date night this saturday. my parents are coming in, the first wave of new baby visits, and we are taking advantage of the built-in baby sitting feature by hitting blue duck tavern for drinks and dinner.

i'm thinking of putting on a food critic hat and trying my hand at a review. i've been getting into local food blogs lately. i am half tempted to stalk, not really, and semi-crush on metrocurean these days. but seriously, i feel i'm at a crossroads about this blog and where i want to take it. so far it's been a nice outlet for recording odd slices of my life, but i feel the need to lend some new ingredients to the pot.

shit, the lump of cole is waling upstairs so i guess i better peel off. story of my life lately -- i can hardly carve out time for an identity crisis. definitely more on this soon...

fear and loathing at the playground

i am half ashamed to admit that just a few years ago i was that guy on the airplane casting dirty looks in the direction of the guy trying to sooth a screaming baby. now, it's kind of funny that i cast dirty looks at cats who seem uncomfortable or annoyed at the scene my own kid tends to make in a public setting. i can't say that i abhor those without kids because everyone has their own path in this world, but i can say that i have crossed over and i relate less to what i used to be.

the other day i dabbled in the usual gray period that comes with every saturday morning. the question is always this: do i run errands all day or do i enjoy the day off and have a life? for the jackal, who has become my primary assignment while mommy tends to the newborn, the answer to this question comes easy. whichever entails adventure for him, so it matters not. still, when i spend a saturday carting him around to the dry cleaner, grocery store, hardware store, and liquor store then tell him it's nap time, i feel like i am ripping him off. and truthfully i feel like maybe i am also ripping myself off.

on this particular saturday morning, i decided lafayette park would be our destination. since it was unseasonably warm, mommy and cole came with, making it a family affair. there are three playground areas at the park, two for older kids (5ish and up) and one for younger kids or toddlers. i warmly reference the latter as the "graveyard" because it seems to be a dumping ground for dilapidated and forgotten toys. it's amazing, really. i counted 5 busted and useless toy kitchen sets, 3 broken down tool benches, 2 cars missing wheels, and a doll house that literally looked like the end result of a doll smoking in bed. it's a pretty ghastly site.

okay, off my high horse. the truth is that, as i took inventory of this scene, the thought of ditching a few of the jackal's waste-of-space toys under the cover of darkness crossed my mind, but that's neither here nor there.

the jackal opted for the "graveyard" first, which suited me fine since it's fenced in. plus, it happened to be empty of kids and parents, which appealed tremendously to my social anxiety disorder. of course that did not last, as a couple of kids and parents eventually shuffled or rolled in high end strollers to join in. the root of my aforementioned anxiety is the unpredictability of the jackal around other kids and vice versa. without fail, some kid is going to approach another and yank a toy from his/her hand, which will induce screaming and rioting and the eventual involvement of the parents, which can be completely uncomfortable, especially when i'm trying to decide if i had enough coffee to launch my day. besides, the concept of sharing twists my mind really. i mean, we tell these kids to share, yet if a stranger walked up and took my phone from me, i'd certainly not be down with it. in the end, it turned out that the kids were perfectly chill. it was a parent barking into her cell phone that rubbed me like raw denim. i couldn't quite get the gist of her conversation, but the tone and increasing volume made me so anxious that, after 5 minutes of it, i decided we had to roll. "this lady makes me want to slit my wrists, let's move on," i announced to my wife at a decibel other parents, including her, could make out clearly. one guy looked my way and nodded in agreement. my wife, she turned a shade of pink.

the next stop was the big kid playground and, as it would happen, more angst. mommy and cole chilled on a park bench while the jackal and i made like monkeys on the jungle gym. once i went down the tunnel slide backwards and on my back, the jackal treated me like a doll with a pull-string on my spine and commanded that i do it again and again and again. of course i obliged, mostly because his giggle is something i wish so badly that i could bottle and would do anything to hear again and again and again. we did this song and dance for a good 20 minutes, until i climbed the ladder and noticed a familiar face coming toward the playground with his two kids in tow. it was a former client, the creative director of an interactive agency in town. long story short -- my firm placed an art director on his team, and the guy quit a few months later, which meant we owed them a replacement, which didn't happen quickly enough for them, which led to awkward blood and a disintegration of the relationship. there's more to the story, but the gist is that there was never real closure. i should mention that i have seen this cat a few other times in the neighborhood -- at the toy store, pizza place, and liquor store -- and have successfully avoided him. while he was very cool most of the time when we worked together, he also had some hot headed moments. that said, i was not about to interface with him on a saturday morning and get that closure on the playground, so i threw a couple of armed forces style signals to my wife telling her to saddle up and we made our exit without incident.

mental note for my next playground visit: always keep the head on a swivel and come armed with a coffee traveler. morning dose of xanax probably wouldn't hurt either.

what the chuck?

Chuck E. Cheese scared the shit out of me when I was a kid. His partner in crime -- Showbiz Pizza's redneck bear, Billy Bob -- didn't really phase me. Same went for birthday party clowns. Sure, those cats were sad and depressing, but I think they made me feel better about myself. Not Chuck E. Cheese. He was a rodent, and rodents make my skin crawl. The affiliation of a rat with food and children just never registered as cute and fun to me.

Today I still think little of Chuck E. Cheese, but that probably has more to do with me being a cynic and a germ freak. (That reminds me -- where's my Purell?) I mean, how infested must that place be, especially during cold and flu season? Just seeing footage on PBS commercials of kids writhing in those ball pits or freaking out over a round of Whack-a-mole makes me want to take a shower.

Well, I'm afraid that rat has returned to my life. This morning as I pulled my various props together for work, the Jackal approached. He was so visibly charged up that I thought he might jump out of his skin.

What's up, man?

I'm going to Chuck E. Cheese today!

Okay, I can't deny that seeing the Jackal so excited completely thrilled me, even if the source of that gives me a shiver. So what did I do? I handed him a twenty and kissed his cheeks.

On the way to work, it occurred to me that times have certainly changed when you are giving your two year old twenty bones for an outing. Remember when we were kids and a dollar did the trick?

finding cholo

i know that i have not posted since nam, or at least it feels that way. for that matter, many aspects of "life and how to live it" (one of the best rem songs in their catalog) have fallen by the wayside the past couple of months. i probably should not even touch on this topic because chances are i won't find myself pecking at the keyboard on this blogger interface for another few months, but what the hell...

happy 2008 to one and all. it may be a new year, but i have no plans to cram anything new whatsoever into this one. we did enough of that last year -- new job for wifey, new home, and new baby. that's right -- cole william was born 5 days ago, which makes the sum of our parts 4. so far, so good, other than the fact that i double-take every time i lay eyes on this little guy. i mean, how the hell did i suddenly become the father of two boys? it's simultaneously electrifying and terrifying. so, as i mentioned, enough new shit. this year, it's out with the new, in with the old, or something like that.

it's safe to say that i rang in the new year in the most tepid manner possible. we went to a kid friendly party and ended up home around 10:30ish. after putting the jackal to bed with his truck, helicopter, and fire engine -- xmas gifts that have taken the place of teddy bears and puppy dogs -- i planted myself on the couch while my wife tended to the rituals of settling a newborn down for the count. after some channel surfing i zoned out to an old episode of entourage. when it ended, i dialed up the directv menu screen and noticed that it was 11:58pm, at which point i flipped to dick clark -- a decrepit mannequin of his former self -- and watched the count down. when the clock struck 12, i gulped down my bottle of water and shuffled up to the nursery where my wife breast fed cole. "happy new year," i whispered and kissed her, hoping the stale scotch taste in my mouth did not convey. after that i went to kiss the jackal on the forehead while he slept and woke up in his bed two hours later. like i said, it was rather boring and dry, but at the same time it was completely heart-warming and real, so maybe the best ever.

i am sad to report that we had a death in the family today. a few hours ago i went kevorkian on the jackal's beta fish, cholo. i like to think that he is making his way through the WASA sewer system right now to the potomac river, maybe making some new friends en route. at least that's what i told myself as i fought back tears before flushing his catatonic ass down the toilet. he lasted a year, which shocked and often frustrated me, before he stopped eating and resorted to making like pathetic chunk of concrete at the bottom of the bowl.

so long, cholo. it's been real. try to keep it that way.

learning not to cry over spilled legos

is it strange for a 2.5 year old to be your role model? it's safe to say that i have a lot to learn from the jackal and sometimes find myself actually wishing i could be him. i have touched on this before, i am sure, but this is not a fleeting feeling, and it begs more dissection from me lately.

the other day i built a lego firehouse for him, so he could park his new tonka firetruck next to it while the crew of ladder company "dos-ey tres-ey" -- a fireman action figure and my orginal boba fett star wars figure -- rested and sat on the potty. construction took about 15 minutes. it might have taken less time, but the little architect submitted several change-orders along the way, such as "no, dad - the potty goes here" or "make boba fett's bed blue." it was exciting stuff, and i could not wait for the grand opening. i even planned to enact a little ribbon cutting ceremony using a piece of leftover spaghetti from the fridge.

alas, when i unveiled the new structure, the jackal transformed into a cuter version of godzilla and reduced it to smithereens in a matter of seconds.

my initial reaction was to frown on the inside. but in the presence of the jackal, regardless of what's going on, a frown is impossible to maintain since he's so damn funny and lovable, so my frown gave way to laughter, and soon i was thrashing the remnants of the firehouse.

me: these are renegade firemen. they don't need a house!

jackal: yeah, renegades!

when we finished the demolition, i noticed that the living room looked "like a cyclone hit it," to borrow a phrase my mother used every day when i was a kid and one that still seems to echo in the archives of my mind to this day. and herein lies today's lesson...

god damn, is it hard to not become our parents or what? i have to say that one of the biggest adjustments i have to work on every day (and admittedly sometimes fail) as a father is accepting chaos. i have anal proclivities, especially when it comes to feng shui around the house. clearly this does not fit into the kid picture. it's like that corner lego piece that the jackal keeps trying to jam into another angled piece -- it just doesn't come together. i know the root of this is my mother, who was, and probably still is to some extent, perpetually fretting over any level of disorder in the house. i would have friends over randomly and her immediate comment would be that "the house is a mess." (recently, in the wake of her blood clot, they hired a house keeper, which is great...)

i am sure this stems from a control issue. perhaps that sounds like me calling my mother out, but make no mistake -- we all have certain control issues whether we want to admit this or not. it does not take a deep psychoanalytical foray to decipher that keeping one's castle in order can lend to the illusion that the rest of one's shit it together. the thing is -- it's impossible to have all of your shit together. while your finances and career might be in great shape, your love life or mental state of affairs could be a completely different story. so what?

still, we all have a tendency to focus on keeping one aspect of our lives together and we keep our eyes on it. we practically cling to that one thing like a life jacket in a fucking tempest.

so...my goal as a father is to be more like my son. i know that his innocence will eventually fade and he will start picking up on the realities of the world. i am not so naive to think that someone can apply the paradigms of a 2.5 year old to the complexities of life and get by. at the same time, i roll out of bed every morning and try to do just that. the alternative tends to scare the hell out of me. at the very least, i don't want him to become me.

back to the future

all is quiet in the northwestern front, unless the occasional displaced rat from next door's construction counts as stirring. it seems like i have not blogged since nam. perhaps that's a good analogy since the theme of this blog does not seem to fit into the paradigm shift that seems to be taking place in my life these days. i feel like i'm living on the set of jacob's ladder, where hallucinations are the norm and visions of what could have been and what should be wrestle in front of me like punch drunk boxers waiting for the other guy to give up and fall to the floor.

don't get me wrong. life is good, and i'm nothing but blessed to be breathing in air everyday and soaking up every drop of the jackal's new found jump start theater of life. the thing is this -- i am not so sure it's accurate to say that i am reluctant to grow up. after all, it's reached the point where i don't think i have a fucking choice.

in the past couple of months i have found myself executing some truly grownup behaviors -- invited a financial planner into my life, joined a church, started work on my will, met with my life insurance agent -- and oddly enough, these things have not caused as much angst as you might expect a reluctant grownup to experience. sure, these are unchartered steps in my life, so there exists a rattle of the cage, but it does not feel unnatural. to be honest, it sort of makes sense.

you see, with a second kid imminent, i feel this instinctual need to pull my shit together, to confront all of the things that have lingered in the back of my head and to act on them. with one kid you feel like you can freelance or half-ass it, like you can still feel young and not have it all figured out. with two kids, i feel like i should have certain platforms in place so i can get on with my life and feel sort of "put together." no longer can i pretend that i am responsible for me and only me. it's almost crazy to admit that now i have to think about others. i mean, what am i going to do? i can't wring my hands and act clever or witty about it. i have to step up and put it in another gear.

okay, so let's do it. i hope i am able to get to this medium more often moving forward. i would be lying if i said i didn't miss it. the truth is that i have had a lot to say, but these internal dilemmas have been road blocking me.

all by way of saying, i'm opening the captain's log again. if there are people out there who choose to stay on board, wonderful. i am absolutely grateful for that. i get the fact that blogs are smaller versions of reality television. that said, let's find another sunset and dissect the shit out of it...


(this post is sponsored by a bottle of gigondas and 3 highballs of trustee old macallan 12 year.)