It started to rain heavily tonight as I got the kids ready for bed. Rebekah looked up at the ceiling in her room, furrowed her little brow and said quizzically:

“Who up there?”

=)

We’ve been working on potty training of late, but being a smart little 2-year-old, Bekah has learned how to turn this to her advantage. No, she still pees in her diaper more often than not, but she has discovered the power of words. She can, in effect, alter just about any situation by announcing: “Go potty! Go potty!” I should note that Daddy has grown wise to this and can usually assess real calls for the potty (sadly, approaching 0%) from those pleas designed to get her out of situations she doesn’t like. Buckling her in the car? Go Potty! Going to bed? GO POTTY! Stuck in the shopping cart while Daddy gets the week’s groceries and staples? Go Potty, Daddy, pleeeease go potty!

Now, I’ve dropped everything and rushed her to enough public toilets to know she doesn’t need to go potty, nor does she ever, ever want her petite derierre on those big public toilets. I have paid my dues and learned when she’s trying to work the situation. However, I can feel the gazes burning my back in the stores; the horrible Dad who ignores his cute daughter's pleas just to go potty!

So, tonight, we’re going through the going-to-bed, must-go-potty, put-her-on-the-potty, no-pee, re-diaper, put-her-in-bed, must-go-potty routine. I’m used to it and we typically sit on the toilet two or three different times during the course of any given bedtime. In between trips to the potty (where she pooped!) she peed liberally in the nighttime diaper. Okay. So I change her and know now that she’s certainly empty. I rock her and put her in the crib. She starts up with a new line:

“Need go potty right now! Please!”

The ‘please’ is the killer. So polite, it just stabs me in the gut. She's pretty adamant about it, but I figure I just need to let her work it out and go to sleep.

I go to check on her later in the night only to find her buck naked, with her little butt shining like an alabaster moon. There is the tiniest bit of pee in the diaper she’s torn off, but otherwise it’s situation ‘all-clear’ and we stow the haz-mat suits for another day.

So, I guess we need to finally get potty trained, or I need to get some duct tape.

what if for the first 25 years of your life you were blind. lets say you were born blind, grew up that way, were accustomed to not being able to see anything but complete darkness and maybe some blurry shades of light here and there. lets also say that you got married. and your relationship with your significant other was built on personality alone. what sensual, erotic things would you experience with your lover? your knowledge of that person would be on touch, taste, smell, hearing alone. you would never had ever seen them. you would have felt their face, but you would never know color their eyes or hair was.
now, lets say that one day you go into surgery and have new eyes put in. now you can see for the first time. you are for the first time in your life being given a new sense with which to judge how you feel about different aspects of your life. do you think that your perspective on that person might change after seeing them for the first time? or would that be completely shallow and superficial. most people would probably say yes, of course, that would be shallow and superficial. but what if, you see the person for the first time ever that you've spent the last 20 years with, and they are so god awful ugly that you cannot stand to look at them one minute longer? what would you do?

This all makes me want to kick Richard Reid in the ballsack. No shoes, no water (no fucking beverage service on a lot of flights either, I might add!!!). Next, the terrorists will make exploding clothes (you heard it here first) and then we'll have to fly naked, because that's apparently how America rolls.

If I sound pissy, it's only because Amy's been pumping breastmilk ALL WEEK in Toronto. Yeah, this is going to work like a charm.

Terrorist douchebags.

August 9, 2006

If you ever think you ought to get a baby up in the middle of the night, chances are you should. I heard the little girl fidgeting in her crib around 2 this morning. She'd grunt and flop her legs around, then doze off for about three minutes. This went on for about 10-15 minutes. I fixed a bottle—knowing the tummy must be appeased should I rouse her—and went in. Her diaper felt quite full and I figured she was having trouble sleeping because of the wet diaper. Turns out the diaper was indeed full … of shit. Poor kid. I'm glad I went ahead and got ready and woke her; she'd only have gotten more and more agitated.

Yesterday I took Reed and Beks out to the library. Reed loves book (brag: he was reading independently at 2years, 9months!) so I've got Bek in the car seat stroller, Reed is holding one hand while "helping" to push with the other. Yesterday was also the primaries, and as such, the library was a voting location. As we strolled in, a candidate supporter with a sign said, "You're the first guy with kids I've seen all day! Everybody else has been women with strollers!"

Um. "Well, I'm a stay-at-home dad," I said. "It's what I do." That's me: trendsetter. Or the only guy who takes his kid to the library anymore.

Hmm. The rest of you guys are dicks.

At that moment, some small part of me felt I should have a minivan.

Later:

Speaking of minivans, I'm loathe to admit I felt my very first pang of minivan envy today. A woman with two children was exiting the grocery story as I went in. The kids hopped in, each with their own captains' chairs in the back, and she easily loaded all the groceries into the back. Shit. That's a lot of rolling space. I've got a full sized car, but for those of you without kids: car seats ain't made for cars. Wedging these huge hunks of plastic and padding into the back seat of a car is laughable … assuming you're not the one doing it. Upon trying to maneuver two of them in there, and having to shove my seat up a couple notches just to make everything work, I can see why so many families resort to the huge ass SUV or the minivan. Sadly, I also know that when the little girl outgrows the little car seat, she'll need to sit in the bigger car seat… facing backwards. Practically speaking, this is impossible in my car in this space/time continuum. Grr.

A sweet lady octopus wrapped her tentacle around my arm and held tight. She kissed me with her soft and inky lips and squeezed ever tighter until I began to see ghosts. Slowly running venom inside of me from her tiny, tiny needles. I'll return when the swelling subsides and she'll be waiting to mark me again.

New ink. New life. New purpose. This human limb chained forever to an anchor on the ocean floor. A vision of the pirate's cutlass, and blood running down my arm into the sink. Cutthroats are among us every day. It's best to be strong, or to become one.

I've changed my destiny. Jumping from one dismal cage to another, slightly less dismal one. A change of scenery should do me good. It's a stepping stone to freedom and self sustenance. But there are many trials to pass first. A heavy torch to construct and carry for at least a year, yet I have already been running for five. A sword hangs above my head, bound by serpents. And a fervent warden eager to lock me down, is feverish for gratification. He has two names in one, and I have two lives in one. I will pick the next lock when the time is right. But for now, patience is golden.

Restraint will save my good time. Near misses fueled by alcohol threatened to drag me back into my shell, but I've remembered that it's better to learn to let go. Best to simply eat more bacon and only let those into my reality who deserve to be there. Once they're there, it's wise to never forget why they deserved it in the first place.

Learn a new skill. Find a new passion. Live your fantasies. Freelance on the side if you have to. Drink the finest liquor and smoke the best cigarettes while you're still young. Stay young. Be beautiful while you can. Wear bodage gear and use a ball gag if it suits. Family will support you always, and friends will give of themselves to show you where you want to go. You only need to ask. They will open new hidden doors, and keep you comfortable even as you dodge incoming arrows, nude, with hot lights pointed at you. They will process the photos if you choose to let them take some. If you're brave it will be worth your while, and it will open your eyes.

Indeed, "what the hell" is often the right answer.

Stress is an interesting thing. It affects the mind in unbelievable ways. I've been having two-part dreams lately. Most of the time I don't remember what I dream about, but when I do, it's usually in two parts. Like I'm acting out some kind of play. My dreams lately have been vivid and cryptic.

Even if I don't remember the events in the dream, what I did, or who was with me, the feelings from the dreams linger for days. I'll often wake up angry or afraid. Or feeling suffocated, as though I've been holding my breath underwater for hours.

Maybe it's because I've been seeing a shrink. Maybe it's because I've been rethinking my life and am pushing myself in new directions. I'm challenging beliefs drilled into me since I was born, and those aren't easy to question. Though, at this point in my life, they should be. There are certain times when it's necessary to reinvent ones self, and this is where I am.

A few days ago, I had another one of those two-part dreams. But what made this dream special was that I woke up feeling powerful. It was the first dream I can remember ever having in which I took control of the sequence of events, and wrote my way to my own conclusion.

In every dream I can remember I played the part of the observer, or worse, the victim. I was reacting to events unfolding around me. There have been dreams in which I've fought, but I never won.

I woke from this last dream feeling power over my world. I immediately grabbed my woman and made love to her. I hadn't felt anything like it before, and the feeling hasn't gone away.

THE DREAM

Part One: Fighting my way through hell has made my spirit stronger.

I'm locked in the lobby of an enormous office tower. The air is cold and heavy. There are no windows and the walls are black marble. The ceiling is so high and it is so dark that I can't see how far up it goes. I am completely alone.

I see an elevator door made of polished black steel. It opens and I step inside. I press the only button and a tiny point of amber light glows from the center. The steel walls are polished like mirrors, but I can't see my reflection. A dim fluorescent light spills out from behind the tops of the walls and is the only light.

The doors close and it's completely silent. The elevator rises.

The only sounds are the bell chimes as I pass each floor. They're clear and pure like a meditation. The elevator rises faster as it gets higher. Thousands of bell chimes sound, each one sounding closer to the next as the elevator moves closer to the top. The speed of the ascent pulls my body to the floor. Hours pass and I feel myself grow dizzy at the realization of how high I must be. The floor shakes and the last bell sounds.

The doors open.

I step out into an enormous intestine. As my eyes grow accustomed to my fleshy surroundings, Tiny eyes begin to glow as they peer and chatter at me from the darkness of the flaps and folds in the pink-gray walls. The eyes follow me as I walk through the tube, and my feet slosh through viscous fluid oozing and dripping from every crevice. It winds and splits like a maze, but my instincts tell me which direction to take. I am not worried as I trudge for miles through the goo.

Then a massive black stone door blocks my path. As I approach, I tell it to open. The door opens and I am gripped by a vacuum that pulls me toward the threshold. I stare out into space. The stars are bright and huge. It is cold, and I am sucked into the void, but I am not afraid. I gain a foothold on a passing asteroid.

As I gaze into the nothingness around me, a villain approaches me. It is riding on top of a small asteroid. His black steel suit is demonic, and he points at me because he is ready to fight. His movements are fluidly robotic as he picks up a large rock to hurl at me. I had only one thought…

There is no way this can be real. I should be somewhere else instead of breathing in space. This fight is over and I win because I do not believe in you.

And I am somewhere else.

Part Two: Everyone is now a guest in my reality, and they'd better fucking show some respect.

I am in the lobby of an elegant hotel. The walls are white marble, and grand white fountains splash cool water from the mouths of cherubs into crystal pools. Ferns and assorted exotic green plants everywhere are luscious and flowering in vivid colors. The perfect California day shines in through high windows. People are busy everywhere.

And I am butt naked.

As I walk through the lobby toward the courtyard outside, porters and bellhops spot me and jump to attention.

"Good to see you again, sir. May I get you a robe? How about your favorite drink? I trust you had a pleasant trip. Did you find any treasure?"

"I am ready for a swim," I tell them, and walk down the white steps and outside into the courtyard.

Outside, there are four swimming pools stacked next to each other in a square. They are crystal clear. The hotel guests watch as I stroll to the edge of the first and dive in. It is a flawless dive. I swim to the other side, get out, and dive into the second. I swim to the other side, swimming through the third and fourth pools, until I am back where I started. I feel refreshed and confident.

From the pools I walk, naked and dripping wet, up a flight of marble steps to an area where people are enjoying breakfast at tables with large green umbrellas. My wife and her boyfriend are there. I sit down in an empty seat at their table. She is eating eggs and juice, and he is having thick slices of toast cut into triangles. I pick up one of his slices of toast and take a big bite out of the middle, tossing the rest back onto his plate.

They stares at me with wonder and fear as I stand up without a word and walk away.