This is not how I envisioned my return to the world of blogging to be. But when the time came, it made perfect sense. Today would have been the twentieth wedding anniversary of Jabba and I.
I can remember the day itself as if it was yesterday; either though neither Jabba nor myself are anywhere near the same people we were twenty years ago.
It was unseasonably warm that day. If I recall correctly, the temperature got as high as 65 (18 C) that day. It may have even flirted with 70. In fact, at times it almost felt too hot for late October in Michigan. There’s an old superstition that rain on your day is good luck. In hindsight, maybe it should have been an omen that there was zero chance of rain in the forecast that day.
I got ready for what-was-then the biggest day of my life in the very same basement from which I am now blogging. The Apostle, my oldest friend in this life and my best man was with me. As zero hour approached, I began pacing and the weight of everything that was about to transpire hit me. I’ve never had it verified to me, but I’m sure that the Apostle said something to the Old Man; because The Old Man gave me some of his vintage advice – a piece that will stay with me until the day I die.
“Rob,” he said, “what you today really isn’t going to change your everyday life at all. You guys have been living together for years”. Practical as always, The Old Man was absolutely correct. Jabba and I had met when we both went to our college’s registration day nearly five years prior. We had gone on our first date about a week later and were basically inseparable ever since.
The Old Man’s pep talk did a lot to calm my nerves, but I was still overcome with emotion that day. I was choked up all through my vows. I haven’t watched our wedding video in a very long time, but I also remember us having trouble with keeping the unity candles standing up.
During the downtime between the ceremony/photos and the reception, the wedding party went to Dave & Busters, and drank on the bus of course. I distinctly remember consuming a lot of alcohol. Dionysus himself must have had my back that day.
As for the reception, that was just about perfect. One of my groomsmen, who I’ll call Tobasco, told me a few years after that it was still the best wedding he’d ever been to. He’s married now, so I assume that his own wedding has eclipsed mine in his memories, but it was still a great party nonetheless.
In spite of the failure of our marriage, and the bad blood that simmered between Jabba and I for years afterward, I can look back on my wedding day and enjoy the good memories. Sure, I wish that some of the principal players were different but I wouldn’t be the person I am today otherwise. Neither of my sons would be the people they are if anything were to have played out differently. My relationships with Jabba and The Kid are the best they have been in years. In the case of Jabba, its the best its been since before our divorce.
This is the best I have felt on this date in years.
It’s been a long time since I’ve blogged. Maybe I’ll try to catch up on the last 2 years; but I think it’s best if I move forward.
Take this as you will…
This post should have come much sooner than this, but as anyone who has had a child knows, life tends to get in the way sometimes; that and I wanted this post to be just right.
The New Guy – my second child and me & The Auteur’s first together – was born at 8:06 AM on Friday July 3, 2015 via Cesarean section. As of this writing, he and The Auteur are doing great.
To put my feelings into words right now seems like an impossible task. I cannot possibly do justice to all that I am thinking and feeling at this moment. But I will do my best…
I feel incredibly blessed. Blessed to have this beautiful, healthy child and blessed to be having this child with The Auteur. She’s such a remarkable person that falling in love with her was the easy part. The fact that she and I met at all is almost a miracle unto itself. That she fell in love with me and was wiling to have a child with me almost defies logic.
In all seriousness, I feel that The New Guy, as with all things pertaining to mine and The Auteur’s relationship is a gift. One that I do not – and will not – ever take for granted.
My God, he is beautiful. The Auteur and I made a beautiful baby together, if I may say so!
Thanks to modern technology, the Auteur and I anticipated approximately how big he was going to be (which, after hearing the sizes of other newborns at our hospital no longer seemed all that out-of-the-ordinary.) He wasn’t overweight, mind you; he was proportionately big all over, long and tall…for a newborn. As a result of his size, he came out with a lot of bruising. The doctors said it was because he was cramped inside the womb. It was funny, because shortly after he was born, one of the nurses looked at me and said “Congratulations, you guys just gave birth to a two-month old!”
Even on the day he was born, I could tell that he has a very mellow disposition. Don’t get me wrong, he can belt out a great cry with the best of them, but he seems to take everything in stride.
Being a father is different the second time around. Not better, not worse, just different. I feel better prepared this time. I feel like with The Kid, I was able to enjoy every sensation of his birth and those first few days of his life; however with The New Guy, I was able to enjoy every moment with a different sense of perspective. I feel like I was able to enjoy different nuances of every moment that I couldn’t even process when The Kid was born 8 years ago. It is a feeling that is very difficult to articulate. I suppose it’s like bring in The Matrix: no one can tell you what it feels like to become a parent, once has to experience it for themselves. To that end, no one can tell you what it feels like to become a parent once again. That too, one has to experience for themselves.
This adventure is just starting. No doubt I will be telling of it more in the days, weeks and months ahead, but one last thought I’d like to leave with:
Just as it was with The Kid, there really are no instruction books on having children. The moment when we were leaving the hospital to take The New Guy home was surreal. Sure we had his room, his swing and his bottles all ready for him, but that moment of leaving the hospital and coming home for the first time with The New Guy in tow – I assume is not unlike the first step one takes when they are skydiving. We really are out here – in the world – on our own. These little ones don’t come with instruction books.
Not that I didn’t already know that…
I had some very mixed emotions going into Father’s Day 2015. This was my first Father’s Day without The Old Man. This Father’s Day would also be one which I would be spending without The Kid – for reasons which I’m not really inclined to discuss here yet. This is also a Father’s Day of great anticipation: within the next few weeks – if not days, The New Guy will be here.
I didn’t feel much like a Dad this year for Father’s Day; nor did I feel like much of a son. There were a few gaping holes in the day.
Don’t get me wrong. The Auteur and I went out to eat Friday night. She made a great breakfast Sunday morning. Then we tag-teamed on dinner for her day Sunday afternoon. To cap off the day, her and 1B got me some nice gifts; but in those moments when I was alone, all I could think about were my Dad and my son.
Two years ago was the last time I got to spend a Father’s Day with both of them. I knew then how fortunate I was. I had no idea that what a “first father’s day without my dad” would feel like; but clearly I knew it would come sooner rather than later.
As much as not having The Old Man here, not being with The Kid is consuming me. All I’m willing to disclose right now is this: I’m working on it. Jabba and I have had no communication for nearly 3 months and that is no accident. We are not co-parenting and that is a situation I am working to recitfy.
A confession: I’m not really much of a college basketball fan, but I absolutely LOVE March Madness, or the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament as it’s more formally known. I love how any division I school has a shot at making “the big dance” if they just win enough games.
I love the Cinderella stories. Give me North Florida, Dayton, Belmont or Hampton. I love the fact that some “Cinderella stories” return year after year until they are acknowledged by the pundits as powerhouse programs like Gonzaga or Butler, or even Villanova was once upon a time.
Even for the experts, who analyze this stuff for a living, the tournament is a crap-shoot. It is a one-game elimination tournament. College basketball only plays two halves, so things can change as quickly as lightning strikes.
And of course, March Madness is the last major sporting even of the winter; and then baseball begins. But I digress…
The last few years I’ve printed off a tournament bracket and tried to pick the winners before the tournament begins. Like millions of others, I usually throw my hands in the air during the first day of the second round, as my bracket lies in ruins.
This year, I decided to actually keep track of my bracket. I didn’t sign up with any online contests like ESPN, or CNN’s; nor did I even follow the “First Four” opening round, focusing instead on the traditional start of the tournament with the pool of 64 teams. Here’s my results so far;
2nd round: 23/32/ 72% Pretty impressive, I think considering I don’t even follow the game much.
3rd round: 9/16. 56% At this point, I’m still ahead of President Obama’s bracket.
4th round 5/8. 62% Woah!
UPDATE 3.29.15: 5th round 2/4. 50%. One side of my bracket is now completely shot. On the other hand, I did successfully predict the elite 8 and final four teams from the regions. Maybe I’ll even try one of those online challenges next year.
Wednesday night was New Year’s Eve and for some reason, I was in no mood to party whatsoever. I wasn’t angry or anything; I was just a little tired and didn’t feel like I was going to miss anything by not celebrating. I’m sure this feeling in part was due to the fact that The Auteur has been sick off and on over the last several days. As it turns out, 1B had some friends over for the night, so The Auteur and I still ended up ringing in 2015 with the kids after all.
Those feelings serve to me as one of those reminders that I really am getting old. Not in any negative sense, mind you; it’s just that partying doesn’t seem as important to me as it once did. Of course, given the fact that The Auteur and I are having a baby, it’s not like she could have gotten festive – i.e. drunk – even if she really wanted to. Partying just really wasn’t that important to me this year. I was much more content just spending a quiet night with The Auteur.
Perhaps that’s not a sign of getting old as much as it is a sign of maturing.
It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything. My life has changed considerably in the last six weeks or so since I last graced this blog. Things have been happening that, quite frankly, I’ve been reluctant to go public with. I have a few posts – namely here, here and here that I will one day soon go public with.
I hope that everyone has a safe and happy New Year’s Eve and I wish you all nothing but the very best in 2015. My New Year’s Resolution for this blog is to write much more frequently…
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair…”
– Charles Dickens A Tale of Two Cities
It’s times like this last week for which expressions like “an emotional roller coaster” were invented.
Sunday morning, after two weeks of wonder what was going on with her physically, I found out that The Auteur is pregnant.
I am going to be a father again!
She took a home pregnancy test last Sunday morning. The results came up quickly, so much so in fact that when I heard her say “wow, that was quick!” I immediately knew the results. It was two more days before we got her in to a doctor to get some blood work done. The day after that (Wednesday) she had her first ultra-sound. As of this writing, our baby is about the size of a grain of rice.
Initially, The Auteur was convinced it was a boy, now she doesn’t seem so sure. We’ve both said that we would like to have one of each together – so that we as a couple can have the whole parenting experience together. sure we The Kid and 1B, but we want to have our own children as a couple as well.
When she took the test last Sunday, we were both elated. the next 48 hours or so that followed, there were some questions and concerns for both of us. I know I personally felt a sense of relief when the Auteur went to have some blood work done; and even more so after her ultrasound. We’ve had some questions as to whether or not we would even be able to have children – which of course have now been answered in the best way possible. It’s relief. It’s excitement. it’s vindication. It’s the future. It’s all of these things…and so much more.
We’ve been talking a lot about the future lately: getting married, having kids, possibly moving out of state a little further down the road. We’ve had some questions as to when we should do what: get married first? try to start a family first? We’re not getting any younger and we both want both our blended family and a family of our own. I remember saying once to her that we almost need something to happen in order to tell us what order to proceed in. Whatever way one slices it, this is tremendous news. At this moment in my life, i can imagine no greater honors than having a child with The Auteur and being marrying her. We’ve obviously been working on one. Now it’s time to get serious about the other.
And on the flip side…
Tuesday morning, my father The Old Man – went to the hospital. He’s had a bad back for years and has been laid up in bed quite a bit over the last several weeks. He goes in Tuesday and we were told that he had 3 cracked vertebrae and a spot on one of his lungs. As of this writing, they still don’t know if it’s cancer despite several tests. we’re hoping to know more later in the week.
Right now, I just hope he’s home for Thanksgiving.
The thing is, his mother (my grandmother) went through something almost identical when she died. The doctors found that she had lung cancer and it had spread to her bones. Keep in mind, The Old Man has smoked since before I was born and he’s never been able to quit. Frankly, I’ve been waiting for news like this since I was old enough to establish a connection between smoking, lung cancer and my dad. Still, you’re never ready for a bombshell like this.
I haven’t told him about the baby yet. I wanted to wait until he was out of the hospital. Now I may tell him on Thanksgiving, regardless. The Auteur and I have talked a little bit about what we should do if he does have “The big C”. Should we get married sooner than planned? These are the kinds of things this type of news gets you thinking about.
I keep going back the early conversations we had when I first moved back to Michigan; about him wanting to see me have a plan to put my life back together; about him wanting to know that I at least had a plan. Right now, I just want him to see me happy. I want him to see that not only am I going to be okay, but that I’m going to succeed and prosper.
Once again, I have so much to be thankful for this year.
Last Friday, I picked up my new-to-me-car. It’s a 2004 Ford Taurus; perhaps not my first choice (and definitely not my lasr choice either) but beggars cannot be choosers. Besides, I’ve never really been much of a car guy. The most important thing s that I have a car again.
Sometimes you forget just how essential an automobile has become in our society. It’s more than just a status symbol. In the world we live in today, it is almost essential. Having gone nearly two years without owning a car, this is a fact that has not escaped me. Owning a car again is going to make a lot easier for The Auteur, 1B and myself: We’ll be able to work differing schedules, we can take 1B to and from school and other extracurricular activities. We’ll be able to split everyday errands between us. The list goes on and on…
I’m so grateful to my parents, without whom getting this car simply would not have been possible. The car has a few miles on it, but it is in remarkably good shape. I see myself keeping better care of this car that I have for any other vehicle I have ever owned. I feel like I simply am not going to take this car for granted. Like my teaching certificate, it’s an essential that I needed to achieve the goals I have set out for myself in this life.
In other news, The Kid started second grade on Tuesday. So far, he seems to enjoy it. I need to get in touch with his teacher so that we can communicate throughout the school year. He also took up karate a few weeks ago. He hasn’t said much about it but seems to be enjoying it too.
We all have a few ghosts from our past that haunt us, or haunt our loved ones. Today I ran head-first into one of mine.
Since I’ve known The Auteur, I knew that my ex-brother-in-law, The Yooper, was working in the town where she – and now WE – live. Today, I substitute taught in his school. With this being a ridiculously small town we live in, it was inevitable I would cross paths with him had I ever been in his school. And I did today.
As I made my way up to my classroom for the day, I had to walk right past his. He was standing outside his door at the start if the day, as teachers do now-a-days. As I got within 5 feet if him, he immediately put his head down. Now, I don’t know if he would even have recognized me had we made eye contact. After all, it’s been at least 8 years since I’ve even seen him, but it seemed too coincidental. Later in the day, we crossed paths again as he was taking his kids to lunch; just as I was bringing mine back from same. Again, as we got within a few feet of each other, he put his head down and struck up a conversation with one of his students. This behavior from The Yooper really doesn’t surprise me. Phred told me that when they divorced and had their day in court, he couldn’t look at her either; as well he probably shouldn’t with the way their divorce went down. There’s a big part of me that wants to just crush the guy like a bug; but truth be told, he’s more deserving of my ridicule than he is my anger. He’s a joke. And the fact that he looked away as soon as he saw only serves to remind me how pathetic he truly is.
But we all have people like The Yooper in our lives. Pieces of the past that, while they may be out of our lives – they still live and breathe and walk the same Earth as us. Friends who have turned into foes, childhood rivals, exes. Ghosts.
Frankly, I don’t know how most divorcees do it. Most of the time, I feel luck that I live about 800 miles away from Jabba. I don’t want to live anywhere near her. I don’t want to ever face the possibility of running into her at any given moment. It’s not that I can’t handle seeing her; rather I’d like to keep those encounter to an absolute minimum and prepare myself for them well in advance. It’s weird enough running into and trying to talk to our common Michigan friends.
There’s a bit from the old TV show “Growing Pains” that sticks with me to this day: In ope episode, Kirk Cameron’s character Mike Seaver fakes being sick so he can stay home from school. He sits down to watch a rerun of “Gilligan’s Island”. He briefly leaves the room only to realize that the show continued even though he left the room. Mind you, this was before the days of DVR and on-demand programming. He quickly turns the TV off and on again, to realize that the show continues. He later tells his Dad of this incident and comes to the realization that even though he stayed home from school, the world went on without him.
Running into the Yooper wasn’t some senses-shattering epiphany or anything like that but it definitely serves to remind me that our ghosts continue to walk the Earth and live their respective lives.