Holy shit, it's been a long time since I've updated this thing. Here's my current life, in a nutshell: taking my 2 (almost 3) year-old to the bathroom to piss, getting the shit punched out of my face by him, not being able to sit in my chair and work at getting employed or finish my MBA because he insists on sitting in my lap all day, feeding him, listening to him scream (comes by that one naturally), and watching/waiting for the next immediate change from happy to pissed off in .02 seconds. Yes, he's DEFINITELY my child.
So let's back up a little bit here because I know everyone is just waiting w/ baited breath to see what I've been up to. Dec 12th I attended a Killswitch Engage show in downtown Denver. My brother and I were up to our usual bad habits, and ended up getting way, way, waaaay too drunk before they came onto the stage. I - against my normally better judgement - decided to go down to the floor and watch the show. Like a moth to a flame, the pit found me...and beat the shit out of me. As I was having alcohol-induced inner ear problems, my balance was non-existent. Cut away to this: I got run over, smashed, stepped on...you name it. Cut away again to this: My brother and I lost my car, it was icy and snowing this particular night. We searched, walking around town drunk as fuck, for almost an hour (I think). Add to that the fact that we kept falling on the ice and hitting our elbows, knees, and heads on the pavement - we were not in good shape. Ended up at an all-night diner, where I first noticed that my breathing was labored. Looooong, painful story, short: Two days or so later, I was told that I had 4 or 5 broken ribs, and that I ripped the tendons in my right thumb. This was before feeling the floating piece of chipped bone in my left elbow, and all of the Mrs. Field's cookie sized bruises all over my body. The only words for my condition: FUCKED UP! I'm not sure if you've ever had broken ribs before, but let me tell you that it's probably one of the most painful things I've ever endured...for 8 weeks. Jesus. This is why I know...I KNOW that I'm supposed to start pits from the stage - not engage in them. You would think that I would have learned that in '96, when I needed 15 stitches over my right eye, after attending a Deftones show. Oh well. I never said I made the most wise decisions whilst heavily under the influence.
Let's see, what else has been happening? Christmas came and went this year. We were so broke that we gave people little picture frames w/ current shots of the family in them, so that we could spend what we could on giving the boys as many gifts from Santa as possible. A humbling holiday to be sure. All of Kathy's family visited us from W. Palm Beach, FL - something that has become a bit of a tradition. It's a love/hate affair when they're here. I start to stress out, and make everyone else miserable...that's pretty much the state of affairs. There was really only one blowout this year, and it was resolved quickly the next morning. All in all, a fairly decent holiday. I can always say that after the fact. I'm a glutton for punishment though. It's similar to how I've seen women deal with the pain of childbirth. When they're in the middle of the pain of delivery, they swear that they will NEVER have another child - then after the baby is born they have a beautiful way of forgetting the pain in light of the love...thus the process is repeated. Hopefully everyone is quick enough to follow my analogy. Anyway, it's always nice to have a full house of family during the holidays.
Six weeks ago, I freaked out and had to take a short leave from my MBA courses. It is literally impossible to write 20+ page reports with a 2 year-old boy in the house all the time. I'm not sure how I can accurately explain this...but imagine sitting in your favorite chair or couch...and literally having a child climb all over you...all the time. Add to this, my son's absolute lack of sympathy and compassion for pain that he inflicts (i.e. you get punched, or have him slice a plastic comb down your cheek, as he JUST did while I am writing this...and you say "ouch." That merely pisses him off more, and the cost of your vocal reaction? More toddler-inflicted pain, followed by 30 minutes (literally) of toddler crying. Suffice to say, if I can't get this kid back into daycare - my Master's degree will probably be significantly delayed. Not cool. (Fuck my cheek hurts right now. I think he drew blood this time.)
Blah, blah. I love all three of my boys - regardless. I always bitch, because that's the way I'm incorrectly wired, but without my Kathy and my boys, I'd have no reason to live.
That's enough boohooing, bitching, updating, and revealing what I don't really think I want you to know. Everyday is on rewind - that's my ending thought.
...another update, whenever.
