One of The Auteur’s close friends, who is now a neighbor of ours, got pregnant a few months before we did and just had her baby yesterday. She had a boy, as are we; and I have to say that I’m getting bit by the baby bug once again.
I want to meet our little boy. I want to see what he looks like and I want to discover his personality – how he takes after The Auteur and how he takes after me. The Auteur is showing. The Baby is looking like a real baby in his most recent ultrasound photos. I just want him out now.
I think we chose a name. Thursday night, we drove down to Columbus to see a WWE NXT house show. On our way home Friday, we decided on a name. Granted it was a name we were leaning toward already, but I think we made our final decision.
Today, I’ve been gearing up for another round with Jabba, which has had me searching for old computer files. While doing so, I came across some old photos of The Kid when he was a baby, which is making the baby brain thing even worse.
Oh yeah, and The Old Man’s first name is also going to be The Baby’s middle name. It only seemed right…
THE FOLLOWING POST WAS WRITTEN 1.14.15
The Old Man had another surgery yesterday. The cancer has spread. The tumor in his shoulder has gotten bigger. There were also tumors in his femurs, which he had replaced with titanium rods yesterday.
I learned more about bone cancer through my dog, Worf, than I ever hoped to need to know. Phred told me Sunday that if the Old Man didn’t get the surgery, there was a good chance that he could have broken both his femurs – had he tried to walk.
This is getting very personal – this cancer thing and me. This disease tried to take my mom from me. Now it’s going after my dad and it looks like it’s going to get the job done. But not without one hell of a fight from The Old Man…
I want the Old Man to come home again. I want him to meet my unborn child. I want to take him to one more Tiger game. I want The Kid to be able to see him again. He is too young to lose both grandfathers.
One More Day
When staring in the face if death, I think its normal to think of these things. I can only imagine what’s going through The Old man’s mind during all of this.
I called off from working Saturday night because I wanted to go see The Auteur. Earlier that evening, i asked my dad if I could borrow his car and go straight out to her house after work on Sunday morning. He gave me his usual lecture about taking advantage of the car situation – which admittedly, I am doing – and about getting my proverbial shit together. I get. I do: he’s trying to hit me with the Tough Love approach but it prompted me to make a decision: I’m moving in with The Auteur.
Her and I have discussed it for at least the last month or two; but talking about it, and making the decision seemed to put her mind at ease about a lot of things, and that put my mind at ease about a lot of things.
Monday would have been (was?) her and Rhino’s wedding anniversary. He texted her in the morning, which she told me about. Otherwise, the day went with virtually no matrimonial fanfare whatsoever, as far as I know.
I don’t feel that this decision – for the Auteur and I to live together – is an impulsive one. Five months into my relationship with Jabba, I had bought her a ring and we had already been living together for months. Comparatively speaking, this relationship has been a much more deliberate one. It amazes me sometimes to think that we have only known each other for five months. It seems like we’ve known each other for year, and not in a bad way; and yet so many things still feel so completely new.
As an outsider looking, in have to wonder, “what the hell is a separated-but-still-married-man doing even considering moving in with a separated-but-still-married-woman and her teenage daughter?” I mean, i have every reason to believe that this could sabotage any possible visitation or custody attempts I may make at The Boy.
At the same time, being with The Auteur just feels right. I am happiest when we are together. I feel complete when I am with her. This, my friends, is love.
To complicate things even more, I am scheduled to appear in court next week one one day before the Auteur and I were planning our own trip down to South Carolina. I’ve come to the realization that I almost certainly will not see The Boy on this trip. Right now, I’m just hoping to see him at Thanksgiving. I haven’t heard back from my lawyer since he sent me the court notice. I am very seriously considering firing this guy, but that’s probably not the best strategy with one week until my first court appearance.
I’m not asking for a perfect world. The world is an imperfect place. The Auteur and I have both been through our share of shit. right now our lives are in an indefinite holding pattern until our divorces are completed. I just want to be happy. It’s like I keep saying to her: “it’s time for our happily ever after”.
I got a call from my son at about 2:40 today. He told me that he got into a fight at school, threw a pencil at another kid. to make matters worse, the school called the STBX so she would pick him up from school.
Not to minimize his indiscretions, but when one gets a call from their child saying that they got into 2 fights at school, one naturally thinks of fist-fighting. I called the STBX after talking to my son. Initially, we both thought the school was blowing things out of proportion. Sis (who taught kindergarten last year) informed me that in kindergarten, the teachers have to instill in the kids that school supplies are not toys and should be used accordingly. As she explained this to me, it made sense. After all, they are learning how to act and not to act in school.
From what the STBX said, this is not the first time he has been in trouble at school. Before, she (STBX) had chalked it off to him being bored. Even if that is the case, it is still inappropriate behavior, and we both told him as much today. However we would both be naive to think that this wasn’t somehow related to our separation – and even the my ex-father-in-law moving into the house for that matter.
It’s times like this that I wish I was still there. Not in the house, just nearby.