The Rock

A year ago today, for just a moment, I thought I was going to be a single father.

It was only that moment that the dreadful thought occurred.  I was fine for the days leading up to the procedure.  I was her rock the whole morning on our way up to the hospital and in the room when they sharpied her temple.

I was cool as a cucumber when we waited…and waited…and waited for the procedure to start.  I was actually even better once everything was underway.  I was relaxed and feeling fine when my mother-in-law and I were called into the private room to speak with the surgeon (we had already been told this was standard procedure).

It was then that it happened.  The doctor shook my hand and asked us to have a seat.  He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t joyful, light-hearted or even chipper.  My heart sank past my pancreas then bungeed halfway up into my throat, beating like I just drank a case of energy drinks.  My mind raced; she’s gone, I’m alone, my boys don’t have a mother, I CAN’T DO THIS!

“She’s alright,” he said, and then proceeded to tell us all the details.  I nodded and tried to listen, but it was tough to hear over my heart returning to its normal rhythm and location.

She was alright. I was better.  She was mine again. I will never have to feel like this again…until January.

My First Time

Do you remember parent/teacher conferences when you were a kid? I certainly do, and they scared the bejeezus out of me. I sat there imagining my homeroom teacher and parents plotting against me. The only thing more despicable than what they said about me was the plans they were making to make my life unlivable.

I’m sure they mentioned one or two good bits about me, and I’m sure my Mom made me aware of them but I honestly only remember two quotes. First there was the perpetual, “You’re not living up to your POTENTIAL.” Second there was, “You did WHAT to the stalls in the bathroom?!” That one was a one time event.

Friday I had my first opportunity to be on the other side. Our first conference for our oldest son (who is in Pre-K a little more than two hours about four days a week) went well. We sat in chairs built for people under 3′ tall (I’m 6’3″, so that part sucked) and listened to his teacher. In brief: he’s smart, kind, and overall a good boy.

I guess he’s doing the potential thing better than his old man.

Dad Jokes

My family was having a nice dinner earlier this week. LB was in his high chair getting noodles in his belly and sauce everywhere else. Butter had complimented me on that night’s dinner I had prepared. This had me in a great mood because three of the last four meals were deemed “yucky.” Trinity and I were eating and conversing when suddenly a thought popped into her head.

“Oh yeah, I have to watch The Amazing Race, an old friend is on it this time.”

“Anyone I know?” I asked.

“Jaymes, the singer.” She stared perplexed at me, knowing full well I have forgotten more than I remember about her past before we met.

I thought for a second and asked, “The guy who performed in Vegas, right?”

“That’s him,” she smiled, “He’s on a team of Chippendale dancers. That’s what he does now.”

A little insight on how my brain works. When someone says something to me, I think of a joke. I can’t help it. Humor has always been my only way to show off – not that I’m all that good at it – but that I’ve always been impressed by funny people, and hope to impress others with my own wit. In high school my humor was a distraction to teachers because of bad timing. It was annoying to fellow students, mostly because I told groaners & eye-rollers. They were “Dad jokes,” and not funny coming out of the mouth of an awkward teenager. In recent years I have become a father, and finally grown into my own sense of humor. Earlier this year a co-worker told me I must be a great father because I was awesome at “dad jokes.” It made me grin.

Now, back to the story.

“He’s on a team of Chippendale dancers. That’s what he does now.”

(My brain: “Chippendale” = antique furniture or cartoon chipmunks, let’s go with the chipmunks.)

“Chippendale, huh? Which one is he?”

“THE ONE WITH THE RED NOSE!” shouted Butter.

Chippendale off the ol’ block.