Back in the fold

Back from the Bay, back at work.

My job is alternately awesome and shit-sucky. I love what I do, I love my company, I get paid well, have good benefits, and a chef that cooks me good food that I don't have to pay for.

But, I take a day off, and all hell breaks loose. And it's not just once in awhile. It's every time I take a day off. The office completely shuts down when I'm not there.

It's great to be needed, but for once, I would like to spend some time with my family without getting work calls at odd hours and weekends.

On the good news front, I'm finally off crutches. I have 7 more weeks in a walking boot, but no longer am I a slave to the almighty crutch. So suck on that crutch gods!

Enough sap

Back to real time...

This weekend I get to head up to the Bay for some swimming, drinking and general R&R. I can't tell you how nice it is to have a home away from home on a beautiful island. The kids love it, although I have to keep Jack from running off the cliff at the edge of the property.

Other than that, my life is on pause. I still can't walk, Aug 4th is the day I get rid of the crutches, so I can't do anything. Grace and I watch Wipeout and AFV religiously, much to my wife's chagrin.

I've targeted my office Golf Outing on Sept 13th as my triumphant return to activity. So keep your fingers crossed, and I'll keep you posted.

Part III

part III

We’ve Only Just Begun. Again

Later, after the work, and mess, and stress, they let me hold you. We were alone. Your mother had gone to the recovery room, and I was waiting for the nurse to get you. I had no idea how alert you would be. You stared at me with eyes so blue that in the dim light of the delivery room, they were black. We were alone. This was the most profound moment of my life. Because we were alone. I wept. For all those months of stress, all the years ahead, I wept. For your mom, exhausted and elated, I wept. But, mostly, for me. For all the mistakes. For all the stupidity of my life, I wept. I was still weeping when they took you from me.

I was unprepared for this. I knew that ahead of time. You were in my arms. You were awake. Alert. You just looked at me. And I looked at you. And somehow, in a dimly lit room in a hospital in Chicago, I fell in love with you again. You were aware of me. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. You trusted me. The largest, scariest person you had ever seen, but you were completely at ease.

Now, a few months later, when I think back on your birthday, it’s that image I remember. Me and you. Holding each other. You held my heart that day and haven’t let go yet. Please don’t. I had prepared everyday for almost a year for you. And I still wasn’t ready.

Today you smiled at me when I got home.

Today you smiled at me when I got home. You were happy. Content. And you recognized your daddy. Me. I’m staring at you as I write this. You’re sleeping now. Your tiny hand moving to the beat of a dream that only you will ever know. But soon you will be awake, and you will remember me.

So now, after the pain of birth has become a distant experience, and you settle into life, I sit and watch. Watch your growing curiosity of the world around you. Watch you discover that you have hands and feet. You giggle, you laugh. Your eyes light up when you’re happy. When you’re sad, I see the anguish in your face. You’re a real person now, honey.

We’re four months into this little journey now. Yet, it seems like I’ve loved you forever. I’ve lived a full lifetime in the past year. Sometimes a single year can go by so fast, sometimes so slow. But, as I write this, exactly one year has past since I found out about you. April Fool’s Day.

Each night, as I put you to bed, I tell you how much I love you. A sleepy little girl trying to hold onto the day. Exhausted, yet content, you lay in your crib, and you look up at me with those enormous blue eyes. Eyes, that in the darkness of your room look black. And I remember. I will always remember the day my life changed. Your birthday. The day you grabbed my heart in your little tiny hands and squeezed.

4/1/05

Writing Samples Part II

Here's number 2 in the installment. Still Gracie based.

THE HOME STRETCH

As of today, you’re just over two pounds. Doctors say that if something happened and you were to be delivered, they may be able to save you. You’re getting stronger. You have hair now. You can see light, and hear distinctive sounds. They say that all this prepares you to not be scared to death when you enter the world.

What prepares me from being scared to death when you enter this world?

The concept of “future” has always been understandably vague to me. It comes. So what? I live in the present. I enjoy life. Why worry about tomorrow? Well…things change, I guess. You changed them. My future right now only goes to December when you arrive. I’ve read so many books. I know how you develop. I know the science. I know that humans develop ass first. I know that it explains a lot about the human race.

But, once you’re finished developing, what happens then? How will you feel about me? I’ve seen parents and children who don’t like each other. I have seen families torn apart over petty things. I write these words now so that at some time in the future, regardless of our relationship, you can read how I feel. I know that these feeling won’t ever change. But, I am not a Great Communicator. I may never be able to say the words that sit on my heart. But at least you’ll be able to read them.

You‘ve become my focus. You‘ve become my future. My past is filled with indiscretions and failure. My future is already guaranteed to be a success. You have made it so. I am beholden to you now. In the past, I answered to no one and apologized for nothing. Now, I’m worried I won’t get the right size diapers.

I’m ready for this. I’m ready for you. I can’t wait to show you the world or at least my small part of it.

I can feel you move now. Small taps from inside your mother’s abdomen. Perhaps it’s some sort of fetal Morse Code. Lying there, with my hand on your mother’s rapidly expanding belly, it drives home everything that’s happening. I’m going to be a father. I already am. And, I’m just starting to realize what all good fathers realize: I can’t protect you from everything. God knows I want to. I want you to see all the best the world has to offer and shelter you from all the worst. I want you to love, be loved, enjoy everything and be happy, without having to see hate or be hated or be unhappy. Unfortunately, I can’t do that. It’s that hate that allows you to love. It’s that unhappiness that shows you how great happiness feels. I feel it now on a level I didn’t think was possible. You will too.

So, we’ve entered the stretch run-- The Third Trimester. If this were a baseball game, it would be the seventh inning. But the outcome of this game has never been in doubt. I have already won.

My parents were younger than I am when I was born, and I was the second child. They showed me the benefits of placing family over the individual. They made me who I am today, and I will do the same for you. We are a family. And the love that flows freely between your mother and I will flow from us to you. It already does.

I’m not sure what the future is going to bring. I don’t know what you are going to need to be the incredible person that I already believe you are. I know that I will do everything in my power to give it to you. It’s you that dominates my thoughts these days, and I don’t expect that to change. I will always be there for you. I am here now. I have such wonderful things to show you.

I’m just a regular guy, and I’m obviously making this up as I go along. But I know this for sure…I love you. Please be safe. Please be healthy. Please be happy. And please, do these things for your entire life.

9-8-04

Writing samples

This blog isn't exactly public, but isn't private either. I'm just not bothering to announce it. It's more a record keeping device. That being said, I obviously have no problems if people read it.

With that in mind, I've decided to post some of the writings I did for my kids. It'll be nice to have them somewhere I can retrieve them. I'll post the 3 letters for my daughter over the next few days, and Jack's will follow sometime soon, since I don't have them with me and it's too much sap even for me.

So without further ado...Part I

THE ULTRASOUND
I saw you today...for the first time. You were sucking your thumb (like I used to). I saw your heart beat; the tiny valves opened and closed in time with the beats emanating from the speaker. I saw your diaphragm contracting and relaxing as you tested your new lungs on the fluid surrounding you. I saw your tiny leg, with your perfect tiny bones. I should have been looking away in case your sex became apparent, but I couldn’t. I’ll meet you soon, but in the meantime, I’m your dad. I’m the one responsible for the hippy music you hear piped into your perfect holding compartment.

Halfway into pregnancy, I’ve found my thoughts have stopped focusing on all the things that can go wrong with growing a smaller, and hopefully less hairy, version of myself in a little balloon. Rather, I’ve started to dwell on what happens when this “thing” goes according to plan. Who am I kidding? I’m not a father. My father is a father. I’m a son. Sometimes I forget to brush my teeth. Sometimes I knowingly decide not to brush my teeth. Does that sound like a father to you? I didn’t think so. But now my father is your grandfather, and truth be told, he doesn’t seem much like a grandpa to me. But he will to you.

I can’t wait to meet you. I go to bed every night with my hand on your mother’s stomach, hoping you’ll kick. I wake up every morning with dreams of you fading away. I get weepy watching diaper commercials. I’m a complete sap. I used to be masculine, even macho. Now, I guess I’m a father...almost.

I don’t know if you’re my son or my daughter. I don’t care.

I use to want a son -- a perfect version of myself to achieve all the things I couldn’t. But I don’t want to be that guy at a soccer game for five year olds.

I used to want a daughter -- an angelic blessing with your mother’s eyes, who I can pamper and baby forever. But I don’t want you to ever date… at least not guys like me. We’re trouble.

Now I don’t care if you’re a boy or a girl. I want you to be you, however that turns out. I want to watch you make the mistakes I did and some I didn’t, knowing that a better person is on the other side. I want you to be happy. That would make me happy.

I guess my point is that parenting, even at this early stage, is all about fear. There’s the fear that something could go wrong. There’s the fear that I won’t be good enough. There’s the fear that you’ll turn out terribly. And there’s the fear that it will be all my fault. I’ve never taken care of anyone before, including myself. Now, I have nine months to prepare for a lifetime of taking care of you. (Actually, three-plus months…I’ve procrastinated…as usual.) It doesn’t really seem fair, does it?

I’m also learning that parenting is about joy and love and pride and beauty. I am filled with joy whenever I think that in the time it’ll take the Chicago Bears to lose 10 games, I’ll be a father. I fell in love with you the second the stick turned red. I display my pride every time I talk about you. And I’ve seen your picture, and I’ve seen your beauty.

I promise to try and not embarrass you, unless I really am trying to embarrass you. I promise to teach you what I’ve learned, unless I don’t want you to know certain aspects of my history. I promise to understand your music, unless it’s bad. And I promise to go easy on you, unless you need some tough love.

More than anything, I need you to get here safe, healthy and as soon as possible, because you’re killing your mother, but in a good way.

In the meantime…

I have a picture of you now. It’s grainy, small and black and white. It’s not enough. I need to see you, to hold you, to feed you. I want to protect you. I will protect you. I love you already, and you’re not even here yet.

Life changes in a heartbeat. I found that out when I heard yours. Be safe, be happy and be loved. I’ll see you in a few months. For now, I’m content to look at your picture.

7-31-04

Do Italians even play sports?

Great weekend. Cousin's wedding was held at the Italian American Sports Hall of Fame. Pretty neat place. It was my first time seeing an actual Heisman Trophy, or a real Gold Glove. I couldn't dance, or walk for that matter, but I managed to read the Prayers of the Faithful at the ceremony and at the reception the Scotch was Johnny Walker Black, so that worked out nicely.

Brought the kids to the actual Wedding, which is always great. Jack spent much of it Karate Chopping things and yelling "HI-YA". Grace was typically moved to near-tears to be in the presence of a Princess, which is evidently any woman in a wedding dress.

Stitches come out on Wednesday, then I can at least sit on the side of a pool. Oh, and also shower. Bathing(or filth-laying, as I like to call it) got old the first month, so it'll be nice to actually cleanse myself like an American again.

Picture time

Here are some of my favorite recent photos. I understand that pictures of my kids are only interesting to me, but I'm posting them anyways.

Here's what my wife and I have begun to call 'Classic Grace', as this is her go-to photo pose. Notice the quietly folded hands and the hurry up fake smile. I sometimes get the feeling that Grace knows more than she lets on. This is one of those time.

As we move on to Jack, you begin to notice the subtle differences between my 2 kids. Same event, nicely dressed. Yet, here' you see the wild hair combed Trump style, chubby cheeks reddened by the exertion of climbing into that chair, and genuine love of trouble making. That's my son. At least he seems happy.

Getting away from the special event photos, we progress to my kids in their more natural environment.

Grace likes Easter, and she's not afraid to show you how much. Make no mistake, arts and crafts are serious business.
And of course, here is Jack in the wild. This is what he looks like 85% of the time.
As jack gets older, I'm continually amazed by how completely different my kids are from each other. Neither is better than the other, just different. I'm still amazed that I have kids sometimes.

Things my daughter has said to me recently.

Would you swim if you weren't a peg-leg?

The letter C is a magic number.

No one wants to see you without your shirt on.

Weekends are nice

Great weekend. Wedding in Cleveage on Friday. Small but awesome. Then managed to hit up the beautiful Lake Erie Islands for some much need recuperation time.

My crutch muscles are progressing nicely, so all in all, spirits are high, and so am I. At least metaphorically until this evening.

Current plans for the evening include meeting up with the softball team for beers. I haven't seen them since the incident, so that should be fun. In a make fun of the fat injured guy sort of way.

Today is a 'light in the tunnel' sort of day. My life and summer still suck, but I can see the end. 4 weeks til I walk again!

I'll need to get my wife something special for the abuse she's taking this summer. She deserves a trip to Aruba, but she may have to settle for a Spa Day.

Troy is not my favorite movie

So, some exiting new news on the Achilles front! Yesterday, I was the last in my family to succumb to the flu. Exciting days in my household. As I crutch my sorry ass to the bathroom and try not to puke on my cast. In the 2 weeks since I got hurt, I've had 2 truly low days. Yesterday was the worst.

But, I'm back today! Feeling a thousand times better and even crutched 4 blocks straight from the train to work. Feeling good if not a bit sweaty. The train conductor had to lower my fat ass down on their handi-lift, so that was a bit embarrassing, but all told, good day so far.

I really don't want this to be a whiny, self loathing blog. I've read enough of those over the past year or so. I'm shooting for triumph of the human spirit type of thing. Only with more painkillers.