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08/30/2006
Childcare
Or how to pull a babysitter out of your ass in three easy steps.
One of the major things that has happened with me getting not just one job, but two - is an overwhelming need for Picklesitting. This also occurs when the Mother-In Law is on hiatus visiting the wife's sister in Seattle (yes, Zero Boss that bitter tension in the air is probably not a coincidence).
So here I am having to beg favors from any reliable source. I have even gone so far as to ship my mother in for a couple of days - having her bail on her adopted library kids. It is pretty desperate here.
I have been so preoccuied with the issue of finding childcare over the last couple of days that I haven't had to emotionally prepare myself for the actual moment of driving away from the drop off without her.
I have not felt this good about myself since I landed the 6 foot Romanian girl who didn't speak English on St. Patricks Day in 1999 when I was so drunk I couldn't speak English, but this morning as I got in the car . . .
That sucked.
I don't like crying. It's not a good look for me - especially at red lights, but there I sat feeling like I had abandoned my child to the wolves. In all actuality I left her with Mya's Mommy whom many of you have read enough about to know is completely trustworthy.
Didn't matter. I cannot recall feeling simultaeously so proud and ashamed of myself for one single act of going to work. I have to admit that I have not been able to ignore all of the subtle and sometimes not so subtle opinions of those who felt that I should be the one earning a paycheck. I kept feeling like once I went to work - it would show them that I was capable too.
In all actuality I feel very much like I've turned my back on all of the issues that I have come to feel so passionately about. I feel as though not only am I abandoning my child, but I am also turning my back on the validity of what I have been doing for the last seven months.
I do believe that having at least one parent stay at home with an infant is an invaluable asset to the development of a child. I think a father can play that role just as well as a mother, but unfortunately it is an asset that we cannot afford. I somehow feel that my going to work is an insult or degradation of the role and value of a stay-at-home-dad because in going to work I have walked away from my job.
I knew this day was coming but I don't think I knew how hard it was going to be to do the job - how hard it would be to deal with the insecurities it brought, and now to walk away from it. In the build up over the past couple weeks to getting work, I didn't think through one vital element - in getting these jobs I would actually have to quit the one I was doing.
One of my flaws is that I am never satisfied with the work of others. I am now passing off the care of my child to someone else, or rather, several someone elses, who I know will not put the same love and dedication into satisfying the lovely angel that is The Pickle. I dont want to leave my old job.
This is not easy, and as happy as I am that I have the work I do - I cannot help but wish I could clone myself to still spend my days with the little girl I have come to know and love.
Pickle's Papa
18:58 Posted in Pickle Perdicaments | Permalink | Comments (7) | Email this
08/29/2006
I got the job(s)
Yep.
I got the job, and one I wasn’t counting on.
I am now the co-coordinator for a local theatre’s youth outreach program. I will be producing four shows a year that will utilize high school talent, touring to schools in the greater Cleveland area. The program is to focus on key social issues such as abuse, suicide, etc.
I will be responsible for all aspects of production, booking, and fundraising. I will once again be the one-man-band that I was with my old company in the early days – except now I’ll have a budget, credibility, salary, and a product that I can actually rally some funds around.
I will be able to primarily work from home – which is good.
It is good because while I was waiting to hear about this job I got a call from a different local theatre wanting to know if I would be interested in acting in their touring show. It is an eight-month contract touring ‘The Hobbit’ all over Ohio, some parts of Indiana, and Pennsylvania. It is sporadic work that depends on the bookings and will work perfectly with my ability to build my own calendar with the outreach program.
When it rains it snows.
I am now dually employed as actor and administrator, and start rehearsal tomorrow.
This is more than I could have hoped for, and I am ecstatic to have actually landed a job that is not only in my field, but a step up from where I was – with the opportunity to build a program from scratch that will showcase what I am capable of as a producer and director.
This is exactly the kind of position I had in mind when I went back to school, and although the money is less than I was hoping for - the scheduling aspects allow me the flexibility to get freelance work as an actor and director, which will help to keep me balanced and sane.
So, yeah me.
Pickle’s Papa
12:54 Posted in Non-Pickle Post | Permalink | Comments (8) | Email this
08/28/2006
Very Overdue Vacation Pics
Well, as we have been back from Hilton Head and parts South for over a month now - I thought, "What the hell . . . Why not upload those vacation pitures that have been eating up my memory."
This is a brief synopsis of the journey.
It all started well . . . The Pickle got everthing packed.
Upon arrival The Wife and Pickle hit the Pool.
Of course the true purpose of a family vacation to let the family smother the baby with kisses while mom and dad sleep.
But enough of this goofing off- we soon hit the road for one of the South's most beautiful destinations, Savannah. We did so under the direction and guidance of our navigator - El Pickle. The trip took longer than anticipated.
Hey Pickle, What do think bout Savannah?
Well, lets explore then.
Savannah is pretty cool.
But at some point you have to eat, and we did in the oldest standing building in Georgia - where Robert Louis Stevenson wrote Treasure Island. It had the most awesome southern style buffet and air conditioning.
The next major event was heading out on a fishing charter to catch some shark with a really cool guy, Coach:
This is one of my three.
Even the wife got into the act.
and yes, this is our family's fulbright scholar with the Black Tip she brought in.
Eventually it was time to head home though because . . .
Insert 'Home-Sick' joke here:
Pickle's Papa
21:57 Posted in Pickle News | Permalink | Comments (4) | Email this
I am the best uncle ever
For years now I have been attempting to win my nephews’ and niece’s love and admiration by spoiling them beyond normal means.
I have had to work this hard because I know that their mother, my sister-in-law, has the lowest possible opinion of me as a human being, and I am sure says very nasty things about me in regular conversation.
To prove to them throughout the years that I am not a bum, psychopath, or general miscreant I have gone out of my way to spoil them with things their parents wouldn’t allow (i.e. drum set, etc.).
I have also always done my best to be a very moral individual outside of the context of organized religion hoping to prove that ‘just you aint got god – don’t mean you can be a good person’ – that’s translated from the Greek.
This weekend I had my oldest ( 10 yr. old) nephew, Tall Boy.
He was dropped off on Saturday morning and I was to return him to the wilderness after the Indians game on Sunday night. For those of you who don’t know – I live in downtown Cleveland, and my brother has hidden his family at my father’s ‘Koresh Institute of Social Dysfunction’ in the part of North Central Ohio that the Amish thought was just a little bit too inconvenient.
He is home schooled for religious reasons, and is generally only allowed social contact with people from their church. This was a big deal, and it turned out to be an outstanding visit.
Saturday morning we went to the West Side Market, our old-world outdoor market, to let him see lamb skulls, whole pigs, and hear more languages being spoken than I am sure he knew existed. There also happened to be an arts and crafts festival going on in the neighborhood with tents lining West 25th street and makeshift easels set up along a side-street for graffiti artists to showcase their work in a healthy fashion – that was cool.
So we bought stuff for lunch, and headed home.
We then went for a walk around the neighborhood and bought ice cream from a really nice Shoppe along the main strip of galleries and boutiques. We stopped in one place that had a small Japanese serenity garden (sandbox with smooth stones and a mini-rake). The Tall Boy put the stones in the corners and raked out perfectly straight lines - then asked what serenity was. . .
Where’s Yoda when you need him?
It was then time to begin the sports segment of our journey. We watched the Browns play their third pre-season game (which they won) and bypassed the free modern dance performance that was going on in the park at the end of my street, mainly cuz I know the company and there was a possibility of me having to ask the Tall Boy to not mention some things he saw there anyway. So we spent the night watching football and I got to explain the difference between a Linebacker and a Safety and why you don’t go for it on 4th and 8.
Much fun.
We woke up to thick sliced bacon from the market, pancakes, and not making him shower before getting ready to go to the game. We then made our way to the corner to catch the bus.
One of the good things about my neighborhood is the public transportation, but one of the bad things about my neighborhood is the people that ride public transportation.
We began our wait for the bus with me being afraid that I was about to scar the Tall Boy into never riding the bus again. We seemed to be at the same stop as a bizarre tribe of white trash females that were beyond genetic analysis.
I spent ten minutes trying to figure out who was the mother of whom. There was one older alpha that was obviously the mother of the second oldest, but beyond that the lines got blurry – and they were all girls, and they looked like they ate their men.
Luckily they wanted a different bus than the Tall Boy and I. Our bus was clean quiet and got us to The Jake in less than 7 minutes.
This is where I get to brag. When The Pickle was born I knew that I would be less likely to show an interest in my brother’s kids as I have in the past – so I went out of my way to plan specific ‘big’ events that would make up for my overall lessening show of affection. I got approval and bought the tickets for this game in February.
Front row seats, in home run alley, in right field . . . awesome.
My family is from Detroit. It’s where my parents were born, met, and I was raised until I was 4. I remember watching the ’84 series on a black and white 13” TV being powered by a gas generator in the middle of the Arizona desert, while oceans of plumbers in the Detroit area with my last name cried openly in public.
When we moved to the Cleveland area in my early teenage years my father would generally take me to sporting events in which the Cleveland team was playing Detroit: Browns vs. Lions, Indians vs. Tigers, Red Wings vs. . . oh that’s right.
It was impossible to not become a Cleveland fan throughout the years. Who couldn’t love Albert Belle?
As a sign of respect, solidarity, and because the Tigers are a much better team than the Indians this year – I wore my Tigers cap instead of an Indians cap. The Tall Boy had me covered by keeping Chief Wahoo displayed on his dome. This way, one of us was always able to cheer.
As it turns out, there were just about as many Tigers fans at the game as Indian’s. This is not that surprising considering the way the seasons have played out so far, but it was shocking to me having watched so many games in The Jake in the glory days of The Tribe. It was odd to hear cheers when ‘The Other’ team did something.
There was a nice young couple from Detroit sitting next to us, and throughout the game the four of us had a blast. They wanted to know where to get food after the game, and I recommended a place just off the beaten ‘post-game’ path to avoid a crowd, and then decided to tag-along with the Tall Boy for fun.
It was really cool giving a tour of downtown to strangers, and simultaneously showing the Tall Boy how to be kind, and not be afraid of everyone you meet. I was a Good Samaritan, host, and uncle all at the same time.
We took The Rapid (the train) back into my neighborhood and walked the eight blocks back to my house.
The Indians lost. We had a blast, and I think the Tall Boy got to see a view of city life that I don’t think he could have imagined.
I am the best uncle ever.
Pickle’s Papa
10:05 Posted in Non-Pickle Post | Permalink | Comments (2) | Email this
08/21/2006
and the skies parted . . .
And behold god spake unto my wife saying on the eighth day I have created buying in bulk . . . and it was good.
I was not there to witness the epiphany or the act of giving herself to the goodness that took place, but the years of preaching the good word have paid off – and The Wife has seen the light.
For when I returned from my day at work yesterday I found a plastic container of 24 rolls of toilet paper, 16 rolls of paper towel, and a box of diapers that may have had its own gravitational pull.
Halleluiah!!!
For you see my brothers, I grew up in a world where the peanut butter jar had to be opened with a can opener, and the dog food at the bottom of the 55 gallon drum was so stale that by the time Dutchess got to it . . . it doubled as a plaque scraper.
And for years - I have argued the point that we. are not. going to stop. Not going to stop needing these items any time soon . . . So why not buy enough to keep from having to run to the store for the same shit over and over and over?
And I believe. I believe that my wife was convinced that she could cheat death out of that second loaf of bread. Yes that's right, because if she didn’t buy it . . . and she happened to die (HAHAHAHA!!!!).
But the bulk buyer doesn't work that way . . . no.
I owe this miracle to my devoted OCD counterpart "Mya’s Mommy" with whom The Wife went to Target and, with the subtle art of a hooker on prom night, nudged my wife toward the understanding that, “yes, . . . that roll is a dollar, and THAT one is sixty cents.”
Now you must understand, Oh my bretheren, for years this has been a point of contention. A strained fragment of the tension between the wife and I, and one I had accepted to never . . . never find victory. And yes, I had reached that lowest of low places where even I had assumed that The Wife was not going to ever give into logic on this - and to continue her battle of will. Her battle of will against having to spend that much on toilet paper (I’ll save her aversion to pay for parking for another post).
I cannot tell you the joy, Nay, the love I am filled with to see my wife come full circle and finally understand that in buying that much at once - you’re actually spending less. Spending less on toilet paper. Spending less on Peanut Butter. Spending less on Sanitary Napkins . . . and less on gas for having to run to the store every two days to get some stupid shit that you’ve run out of.
And lo though I walk through the valley of the shadow of the Dollar Store. I will fear no Drug Mart. Thy Costco and thy Sam’s Club shall comfort me. For thine is the kindom of bulk and I will buy by the PALLATE!!
Can I get an AMEN?!!?
Pickle’s Papa
22:35 Posted in Parenthood | Permalink | Comments (10) | Email this
Making Ends Meet
Necessity is the mother of desperation, and today I spent the day working with Ryan installing satellite TV in strangers homes. Not that if I knew any of them it would have made my job any easier, but at least then I would have had an excuse for my incompetence.
I have always been ‘handy’, but there is a big difference between working on your own project and being a professional technician. I am not a professional technician.
As I am still unemployed, not having heard back from my recent interview yet, and feeling the tug and twinge of the impending need for income – I ventured forth to do what most people do every day.
I left my home to go do a job.
I have led a spoiled, sheltered, idealistic adulthood that has enabled me to believe that one should be paid to do what one is good at and/or loves. Jobs have little to do with that premise.
A job is an exchange of your life for money. That is my rough summation of the concept. I’m not used to expending energy against my will. In fact I am not really used to expending energy at all these days.
My recent vocation, daddy, is more of an effort or exercise in will, determination, and logic. I am not used to the idea that my physical discomfort has an equal and reciprocated value in dollars.
Because today I was uncomfortable, and was so, in the pursuit of money.
This is a lesson I learned long ago in the mailroom of a best left forgotten newspaper where I was once the fasted ad stuffer this side of the Mississippi.
It is amazing how seven years working in your chosen profession will erase your memory, and work ethic.
I don’t like work. I love projects.
Today was a horrific reminder of how much I want to find a job in my field. I was once an excellent worker, and as I have aged and been spoiled - I am now perhaps the laziest man on the job that has ever lived.
This is not the historical path for me. I have always focused my OCD onto whatever task lie ahead of me – regardless of the job’s relevance or gratification. I think in my maturing understanding of the value of my soul and time, I have come to the acceptance - that toward many actions in this world . . . I just don’t give a shit.
I don’t care if you enjoy your television experience, but I do want to be able to wipe my daughter’s ass with hypoallergenic wipes - and today those two concepts somehow became related.
I am one in a thousand that discovered my calling, worked toward an education in my field – and built a resume and ties to the professional community that would allow for a sustainable career in the arts. I did so without wealth or family ties.
For the first time in my adult life I seem to find myself being pushed out of the center of my comfort zone in the working world. I know that I have said that this was a reasonable sacrifice to make for the support of my family, but when the act itself in upon you – it doesn’t feel very good.
And it isn’t that I look down on anyone that does anything but what I’m trying to do for a living. I think we all have different ways and approaches to satisfying our needs for personal fulfillment and the balance of financial support.
Ryan is one of the more intelligent people I know. He has a deeper understanding of all things scientific and mechanical than I could every hope to. He also has the vision and problem solving ability to walk into these people’s houses and within five minutes come up with an executable plan for the most time and cost effective solution to their unique situation.
I don’t care.
I think it may be the difference between a sculptor and a painter; or a gardener and a tree trimmer. I am definitely a gardener. I love to plant seeds and cultivate the right chaos for the right corner. Other people like to look at the chaos and whittle it down to a manageable and beautiful form.
The world needs both, but I haven’t been able to match my skill for developing a crop with the reality of feeding my growing herd.
Perhaps it is the same in parenting. It is the balance of the cultivation and the pruning that can make the stunning shape.
The trick is that as parents we don’t get to pick one role or the other. We have to do both, and I think that is what I am missing in my life. I need to relearn the ability to prune if I am to find the balance in my form.
Pickle’s Papa
02:20 Posted in Pickle Ponderings | Permalink | Comments (3) | Email this
08/18/2006
Poetic Justice
The other day I was going through some of my old papers and such when I discovered a notebook of old writings and poems from high school. I was struck by how much, and little, my ideals have changed in almost twenty years. Hopefully my writing has improved.
This poem struck me as very relevant to a lot of my current questions regarding the development of a value system. I think I wrote this just about the time I realized I had one.
Life by the Lyrics
Elenor taught me
compassion for man.
The old fool on the hill
gave me patience at hand.
Comfortably Numb
taught me to set my goals as a human,
and Animals taught me
that life was confusion.
Lucy gave me dreams
when all seemed dim,
and Vera was there
to be my true friend.
The bombs did fall
as depression set in,
and the worms did crawl
as my dreams caved in.
The music told me
that life wasn't pure
and it told me that nothing
was ever too sure.
But it told me too
that if my heart was true,
anything I wanted
could be mine.
With hope, dreams, and
a life of pure goals;
no matter what happens
never sell your soul.
Because what you've seen before
will soon come again,
and that who was your enemy
will soon be your friend.
You can have everything that is,
and everything that will become
and everything, everything
under the sun.
I learned to live
and to be true to me,
because if I didn't
who would I be?
I set my goals to my conscience
not to society:
Least comes to money
chincy it may be.
Second to that
comes egotistical possessions,
and anyone reading this
could surely learn this lesson.
Then comes to others
that I do satisfy,
and now comes the toughest
that I fail, but consistently try.
Third is my country.
Second is me.
First and yet most ignored
is my sense of humanity.
It was my parents who actually
taught me right from wrong,
for you see it was them
that hummed me the song.
That, ladies and gentlemen, was crafted at the hand of Florence, AZ's 1982 first prize winner of the third grade poetry competition. It wasn't actually that poem that won me the prestigious honor, but I do think it was written about the time I was creative writing editor of my high school newspaper.
Yeah, I was that good. It's amazing I didn't end up writing for a living. Nowadays I kind of write so I can keep living.
Pickle's Papa
10:13 Posted in Pickle Ponderings | Permalink | Comments (3) | Email this
08/16/2006
Television
I am a horrible parent.
At six months old I have abandoned my child to the guidance and supervision of Baby First TV. I even went so far as to sacrifice my subscription to Playboy TV to get the channel in the door within our TV budget.
I can’t decide if this is a noble sacrifice or a pathetic example of how misguided I really am. I do love the channel. It is perfect for her cognitive development at this point; without commercials to plant the marketing disease in her yet.
The issue is that it is still Television.
She is already being conditioned to sit in front of the color-changing box and listen to the music. I really don’t like this, but I know it is doing a much better job of stimulating her development than I could without it.
I keep telling myself that the lack of commercials and regulated use will be a great developmental tool, but the truth is I am already using it as a crutch to my laziness. I am already plopping her in her exersaucer, and walking away.
That’s bad.
I need to be an active participant in her TV watching experience, but it is so easy to let it do all the work. What am I supposed to do? Stop being a lazy bastard just because I’m a parent? Oh. Well, I guess that would be a ‘yes’ then, huh?
I grew up without television as a child, and when we re-assimilated to functional society my parents went a wee bit overboard on the whole TV experience. In other words from the moment I woke up ‘til the second I went to bed there was the constant voice of a stranger in the living room.
It is still the case today in my parent’s house. Whether it’s the Weather Channel or Headline News – it’s always something.
When I was little - it was music, and for the majority of my adult life that has been the case. When I lived alone instead of turning on the TV, I would usually put on music and read - but these days it seems there is always the sound of someone talking at me coming from that box.
I don’t want The Pickle to think that is a good idea.
I need to figure out how to balance the positive aspects of the medium with the drawbacks of loss of input control, and numbing the nervous system to the subtlety of the general life experience.
I don’t know at what point the television stops developing auditory processes and starts teaching how to not listen, but I know it happens. I need to listen to her reactions, and gauge when to turn it off.
And here I thought this was going to make things easier for me. It’s scary to think that this box is going to be her first non-parent ‘teacher’, and with all of them in the future – we need to use our discretion and guidance to lead the knowledge she will glean.
If worse comes to worst then I guess I may be forced to read to her – Who knows?
Pickle’s Papa
13:43 Posted in Pickle Ponderings | Permalink | Comments (7) | Email this
08/15/2006
Updates
OK
Due to popular demand, I will give some updates on posts and life in pickledom. I generally just rant about my concerns, but I suppose I could give some honest to god info.
My interview went very well, and I am even more excited about the job now than before. The sad news is that they have a ton of candidates, and I wont know for a couple of weeks.
The Pickle said Dada. Actually The Pickle is repetitively saying DADATHATHADABADADADTHATHA, but there was one time where she looked at me in the eyes and only said "dada". I came in my pants.
She is now mobile. She isn't technically crawling but she does alternating moves of combat crawl and on all fours fall forward. Her favorite is coaxial, but if she finds herself in a bad place she'll settle for phone line or speaker wire (the coaxial is saltier - that's where the cat pees).
Thanks to all of you linkers my technorati rank number is now less than 200,000. I am so close to victory I can smell it. P.S. if any of you fellow bloggers out there get chocolates in the mail - try them, they're really good - especially the ones that smell like almonds.
I seem to have acquired a nice, fun group of friends out there, and I would like to thank you all for your comments and support. I enjoy reading how my psychosis relates to yours.
I hope all of you enjoy my recent addition of advertising. I am one step closer to retirement now. I'm just not sure how they connect material to ads. I'm just glad they haven't wised up about me, and started to put the penis enhancement links here too. That would be really risky on their part - because we're not allowed to click on our own links.
Hope everyone is doing well, and I will post as soon as I hear anything about employment.
Pickle's Papa
p.s. almost forgot - NEW PICS at Pickle's Paparazzi
17:05 Posted in Pickle News | Permalink | Comments (0) | Email this
08/14/2006
Changing Gears
While many of you are reading this I am going to be at my first real job interview. I’ve actually had one other interview, but this is for the first opportunity that I actually want to get the job.
I am nervous.
This was the plan as The Wife and I drew it up: I was going to stay at home and take care of The Pickle while I finished school, and try to find employment when she reached the six month marker because that was the point we thought we would feel comfortable letting her begin some day care.
This would be that point when I need to find a job, and I am all kinds of conflicted on this.
The good news is that if I get this gig it would be a great deal of work from home, and work that I have done and enjoy doing with little supervision. All things good for my well-being.
The issue is that I don’t want to leave my baby. It is difficult to gear up for an interview that, as much as I want the job, would be very happy being told that I get to stay at home until the next opportunity arises – which isn’t very often.
The problem is that this could be a great job . . . but the kid in me loves the frosted side.
Now I’m just being redundant, but I cant get over the feeling like it’s a lose/lose situation. If I get the job I will probably lose three days a week with The Pickle; however, if I don’t . . . we wont be able to eat or pay our mortgage.
See, its really a very tricky balance.
I am beginning the process of preparing myself for having to leave The Pickle. I don’t like it, and I don’t want to do it – but I know it is an inevitability. If it isn’t this job it will be another, and perhaps one I wont want to do.
I guess the biggest issue is that I am actually having to come to terms with the fact that one way or another I am going to be rejoining the workforce.
I cant imagine The Pickle spending a whole day without either The Wife or me there as the problem solver in the moment to moment issues that arise throughout the day.
We are lucky in that the MIL is near enough to take up some of the slack, but the truth is that she will soon spend her first day in day care.
I don’t know which aspect of this will make me feel like more of a failure: if I am not good enough to get the job, or that I abandon my child.
I seem to have a very positive attitude about the whole thing.
I am feeling very insecure about the whole process, and have that horrible child sensation of wanting to throw a temper tantrum scream and cry running to my room yelling, “I don’t want to!!”
I almost wish that the job weren’t so perfect for me and my situation. I honestly don’t think that I thought an opportunity would arise that I would get excited about the work . . . but here it is, and I am caught between the decision of which selfish act is in my better interest.
My brain wasn’t designed for compromise. I could never make it in politics, and parenthood is turning out to be a real challenge . . . who’d a thought?
Pickle’s Papa
09:33 Posted in Pickle Perdicaments | Permalink | Comments (6) | Email this
08/10/2006
Happy Anniversary Honey
On the heels of our mutual attacks - The Wife and I must face the most difficult of subjects: Why the hell am I married to you, again?
The annual affair, now in its third year, tends to bring up all those questions regarding why it is that we’re married, what you expected it to be, what it really is, and are you happy in it?
So far I give us a B+.
My biggest fear about getting married was that she’d stop having sex (especially with me). That didn’t happen. So everything else can be tolerated.
All comedic tendencies aside, we have a fantastic marriage. We are a relaxed comfortable team that communicates our needs, fears, and goals while working to better our lives and spirits together.
The biggest thing - is that we have fun together. I am so happy to be sharing my life experience with her, and feel lucky to be allowed to be on her journey as well.
I think the most gratifying part of marriage, which I never could have understood before taking the leap - is that I am never alone. I will never have to face my fears, traumas, and failures alone again.
The Wife is at my side, and I at hers – for better or worse.
There is a peace and strength that comes from giving yourself to someone in marriage that can come in no other way, and the key to its success is trust, acceptance, and the overwhelming desire to make the other person happy.
I have spent the majority of my life living as selfishly as one could imagine, and the main reason I married my wife was because she was the first person I ever met that brought me joy through her happiness - without any anticipated or expected reciprocation.
I love making my wife happy. There are times when I don’t. Mainly when I see a single act in opposition to her greater good and well being, but I try.
I have been lucky enough to have felt and fallen in love more times than I should have. Perhaps it is something in my nature, but there is nothing like the passion and awe of love coupled with an honest and healthy relationship.
I owe that to my wife, without whom I never would have known how to love in peace - and live with, for, and through another person.
This is our first anniversary as parents, and after everything that has happened in the last year to bring The Pickle into our lives - I have come to a new understanding and depth to the love and life that we share.
I cannot imagine going through what we have with anyone else, and I see our beautiful little family as the most perfect balance and collection of souls that have ever been brought together in this world.
It brings tears to my eyes to think of growing old with you and watching our world and work become the life that you deserve.
I love you so much knowing that we are whole, and that we have a lifetime of mistakes and dreams to live together.
I love you.
Happy Anniversary.
19:43 Posted in Non-Pickle Post | Permalink | Comments (7) | Email this
08/09/2006
Sinking Ships and the like
There is something to be said for the idea of going down on a sinking ship. We all hold the captain who rides his vessel down to the depths of Davey Jones’ locker in the highest regard, but there’s a funny thing that happens to you as you get older, have kids, and realize that death is real - and some decisions you make will have dire and irreversible consequences.
I now have a daughter.
For the majority of my life I have taken the big risk, and refused to quit. I did this even when all indications were that I was wrong, and probably screwing up my life. My biggest proof of this fact is that I spent my twenties building a career as a professional actor in Cleveland, OH.
This was not the easiest path. . . nor the smartest of moves.
I have track marks on my arms from selling my plasma, and probably will until the day I die. I did that when I knew I had to take acting jobs to build my resume that didn't pay me enough to eat. Those marks are a constant reminder of how hard it was to get where I am.
These days I am older and less motivated to prove that I can do something just to be hardheaded. And I now worry and wonder about my daughter, and what will drive her big choices.
I based most of my decisions on whether or not I felt people believed I could accomplish a goal. If someone ever told me I couldn’t do something - you could bet the farm I would see it through.
The reason I became this way was my father. My old man is a dreamer. But there is a big difference between a man who dreams and a man who works to see his dreams become reality.
My father would rather fantasize about his heart’s deepest wishes than act on them - because when he was younger he had his dream crushed. It’s a lot easier on your heart to dream than to fail.
As a child I bought into all of my dad’s schemes. I wanted his dreams to change the world the way he imagined that they could. But every time he would begin the process of launching his latest idea . . . he would become distracted by his next obsession.
It broke my heart over and over again.
As a child I vowed to finish what I started, and I have seen things through against insurmountable odds and logic.
I do not think that this is solely a process of instinct. I was trained to hate quitting.
Soon my daughter is going to hate her piano lessons. There will be classes and cliques that will lead her to want to walk away, and my reaction and support of her in these choices will inform her view and value of completing a task once assumed.
I am a success today because I refused to quit, but life sure could have been a lot easier – and I certainly don’t want my daughter to have to suffer in the same ways I did.
Each generation is supposed to make advances. I want my daughter to understand the satisfaction of crossing the finish line without having to have a single-minded obsession or disregard for common sense.
Maybe she’ll get it right.
Like so much of the burden we put on our children – I want her to be able to do what I was unable to do. I want her to understand that it’s just a ship. I want her to pick the right one, and to carry a life preserver because we all get wet. But the truth is that when she does want to walk away from her goals - I am going to see my father in her eyes.
How am I going to react, and what is the right thing to do?
My success has been the road less traveled. I know that if I had listened to logic or anyone that supposedly ‘knew something’ I never would have had my career, but does that make it right for her . . . and how could I pass that drive on anyway?
In all of this I have overlooked the one most important fact: 
the love I have for this child. I know that when she finds her dream within her heart it will be all I can do to give her the support and guidance of one who knows how hard reality can be and hope her ship has an easier path than mine . . . or my father’s.
Pickle’s Papa
18:47 Posted in Pickle Ponderings | Permalink | Comments (2) | Email this
Family Resemblance
Well, I suppose I can admit that I guess I am no longer creative at all, but merely read other people's blogs and either expand on their posts or do an offshoot inspired by something I've read. I'm ok with that, and this is yet again another example. After reading this post on Creative Type Dad I was reminded of this fantastic story.
This is a true.
A colleague of mine’s husband had their toddler/potty training daughter in the mall when she expressed her desire to go to the bathroom.
Everything was going along fine – sans the potty.
The bathroom was fairly busy with the sounds of many men going about their business outside the cramped stall where he was trying to convince his daughter to go.
This is when she uttered the most horrific phrase that any man has ever heard in this situation:
“You’re not my Daddy.”
Uhmmm.
“Where’s daddy?, You’re not my daddy.”
. . . yeah. So as the angry and malicious crowd gathered outside the stall ready to pounce - the man did the only thing he could do . . .
Gasp in horror.
I don’t think any man has ever feared for his life more as he dressed his daughter and tried to make his way from the can. She continued to say the dreaded phrase as they walked out of the stall when he was stopped at the door by several men who wanted proof that the girl was, in fact, his offspring.
Soon security arrived and despite his protestations the girl continued to utter the same phrase over and over – “You’re not my daddy.”
After great anticipation and phone calls and the final arrival of mommy the police finally accepted the fact that the girl was his.
As soon as Mommy arrived the girl gave in and admitted her game. When asked why - she simply said, “I don’t know . . .” and smiled.
You know that smile.
So beware all fathers out there. Just remember at any given moment your daughter can have you strung up by your testicles in public.
I'm just glad she looks so much like me. Nobody would believe her and they'd understand why she would want to distance herself from me.
Just thought I’d share that horror story.
Pickle’s Papa
08:32 Posted in Pickle Ponderings | Permalink | Comments (7) | Email this
08/08/2006
Quickie: New Paparazzi, and cool site
OK, so J & D came over for dinner the other night, and Judy took some purty pictures which she has been so kind as to upload over at Pickle's Paparazzi.
I also just recently discovered what I think may be the coolest and most cleansing site on the web. It is called Postsecret. People send in homemade postcards with a secret written on it and they are anonymously collected posted and published. They range from the astonishingly touching to ridiculously funny.
Highly recommend.
Pickle's Papa
21:45 Permalink | Comments (1) | Email this
08/07/2006
Daddy Elbow and other ailments
I had heard most of the warnings of what parenting would bring, but as a big strong man I never thought about, nor expected, parenting to require so much physical strain or endurance.
The repetitive wear and tear of doing the same actions over and over again . . . and then over again takes the patience, focus, and durability of a long distance runner.
The one that is getting me today is Daddy Elbow.
For those of you who don’t know - this rarely diagnosed condition is a bruise and tenderness of the elbow created from the repetitive bottle feeding of one’s child using the armrest as the resting point of your elbow in the arm ‘V’ baby headrest position.
I currently am making the cringed, pursed lips face every time I bend or set my elbow down, but this is far from being the only physical strain that taking care of my child has put on me.
This is a short list of my new-found ailments:
Bjorn Back
Diaper Change Dry Hand or Antibacterial Cracking
Public Appearance Depression or Lack of Shower Blues
Baby Wont Sleep Pink-Eye
And last but not least, Oh My God Why Wont She Let Me Put Her Down Bouncy Walk Sway Thing Back
Nobody warned me about these . . .
And if any expecting parents are reading this - I highly recommend endurance back training.
Pickle’s Papa
20:00 Posted in Pickle Ponderings | Permalink | Comments (4) | Email this
08/06/2006
You have my permission to marry him
Well, as it turns out by marriage, and then by another marriage - I am somehow related to an amazingly famous and wealthy beyond regular terms individual whom (despite my previous inability to do so) I will refrain from naming.
On our vacation we stopped at the amazingly famous and wealthy individual’s brother’s house to visit and pick up the sister-in law and brother-in-law who are not so amazingly wealthy or famous. The in-laws' in-laws have two very beautiful boys – one of which is about five months older than The Pickle.
The afore mentioned gazillionaire has no heirs and will most likely be leaving the fortune to these boys, and as I sat there watching them play I couldn’t help but wish that she would accidentally become impregnated by this eleven month old Quasimodo.
This is not to say that the child is deformed, but I must tell the story of how he crawls . . . or rather, doesn’t.
Q, as he will be referred to henceforth, does not crawl. He sits on his butt, legs outstretched before him and does a shoulder lurch to one side. Putting his weight onto one hand he hops his butt forward while pushing down and pulling himself forward with the heels of his feet.
All he is missing is a hump.
The family is completely ok with this behavior, and enjoys the humor of it fully – but damn if it isn’t funny lookin’.
My point is - as the unscheduled play-date went on, I couldn’t help but buy into the idea and dream of The Pickle marrying into unbelievable wealth. To quote Chris Rock, “I’m not talkin’ rich – I’m talkin’ about wealth.”
There she sat, actually playing with someone that would never have to worry about money in their entire life – aside from maybe accidentally pissing away a couple hundred mill on a bad investment . . . and still not have to get a J.O.B.
I really did turn into a horrible daydreamer and am fairly certain I had the same look on my face as the father in ‘Arthur’ – the Dudley Moore movie when he finds out the reason Arthur doesn’t have a job is because he is independently wealthy.
In that cool, honest, fatherly tone he tells his daughter, “You have my permission to marry him.” It didn’t matter what kind of human being he was or how he treated his daughter.
It’s scary how much money matters. It is so base and animalistic to want your child to be secure in the most primal of senses.
We all know how hard life is, and wouldn’t it be great to have money not be a concern. In that Forrest Gump, “well, that’s one less thing” kind of way.
The worst effect that thinking like that has is the way it plays on your own insecurities.
The Wife and I are in a fairly decent position to provide for The Pickle, but when you start thinking about being wealthy as a goal or even an option – all of a sudden being able to pay for college doesn’t seem that impressive anymore.
What are the realistic expectations for the provision of comfort and security to enable your child to launch off into their own lives?
I certainly don’t know anymore.
My parents believed in food, shelter, and teaching right from wrong. These days those seem to be a given, and the pressure on providing opportunity as a parent is almost overwhelming.
It is our job to get them into the right schools. It is our job to make sure they are exposed to the finest in culture and society to allow the opportunity for the utmost in upward mobility.
What the hell?
Am I not changing diapers? Why am I thinking about this?
Because I bought it.
Whether I like it or not - I’ve swallowed the poison pill, and have come to accept that money can buy happiness. And now I have come to understand the stepping-stones and traditional ladder to success of today’s culture . . .
But wouldn’t it just be nice to marry in.
And that’s why I said to my in-laws’ in-laws, “she has my permission to marry.” . . . and that has triggered a horrible sequence of analyses about what I want for her and why.
In my ideal I just want her to be happy. Unfortunately the way I have been programmed - I now think the easiest way to be happy is for her to come into money . . . and the more, the happier she'll be.
I can’t think of anything more illogical and unfair to attempt to superimpose into her dreams.
I also don’t understand how I got this, because I assure you my parents never taught me to value money, power, or stature. This must be one of those “picked it up at school” kind of things.
So I’ve got another thing that’s wrong with me that I need to hide or fix before screwing up my kid any further.
But if I picked it up at school, what is to say that she won’t do the same? Especially with the schools we’re planning on sending her . . .
irony
We are all told that the most important thing to want for your child is their happiness, but I’m starting to wonder if the way they’ve told us to get them there isn’t all fucked up.
Pickle’s Papa
18:15 Posted in Pickle Ponderings | Permalink | Comments (3) | Email this
08/04/2006
Pickle Icky 3
YEAH !!!!!
It’s my fiftieth post – Yeah!!!!
And it’s a loo loo.
On vacation The Pickle was submerged in Sunscreen, Surf, and Swimming Pool. For those of you who were not aware: infant girls do, in fact, have vaginas - and they are apparently not yet as completely Ph balanced as a pool.
Several days after our return I noticed a certain redness and swelling in her nether-regions if you will. Upon closer inspection I discerned that there was what I determined to either be a caked on residual collection of Butt-Paste (truly mis-named at this moment) or the white trade-mark trail of my daughter’s first yeast infection.
Yeah!!!
The on-call nurse recommended a wipe-out of the afore mentioned ‘Hoo-Ha’ with a moist wash cloth and the suspension of all wet-wipe and butt-paste usage. In two days the redness and swelling had disappeared.
Last night The Pickle had a fairly rough night of . . . not sleeping. It was obvious that she was uncomfortable. I thought it was the Icelandic conditions that my wife had created with an over-ambitious air-conditioning attack on our recent heat wave, but low and behold that was not the cause.
She finally went to sleep at about 8:30 am and slept until 12:30ish. I was fairly certain that by then she had made a run at her diaper, and I went for the change as soon as she awoke.
Have you ever seen something that makes you uncontrollably utter the words, ". . oh my god. . . "?
The diaper was filled with a unique green ooze that had apparently come from my daughter’s cooter. My suspicion was confirmed when I went to lift her legs over her head to wipe her off . . . it was like popping a zit.
Picture the biggest white-head you’ve ever had - not a gusher, a slow oozer. Yellow and pasty.
Not to mention we were all, wife in tow, soon at the pediatrician’s office.
They were kind enough to swab the diaper, which I brought with me – perhaps some day to end up in a medical museum of some grotesque nature.
But the bad news was that they needed to catheterize the poor little girl to get a clean sample of her urine to rule out the possibility of a urinary tract infection as the cause of her symptoms.
No Good.
I had to hold her down as the nurse rammed a plastic tube up into her bladder. This has not been my favorite day of parenthood.
The good news is that it is most likely an external issue caused by exposure to chlorine, salt water, and sunscreen – we have our ointment, instructions and humility in tact as we face the horror that has become my daughter’s privates.
Yeah!!!
Pickle’s Papa
09:04 Posted in Pickle Icky | Permalink | Comments (7) | Email this
08/03/2006
The List
To continue the parade of internet thievery. . .
The bolded items are the things I done. The non-bolded items are the things I haven't done.
01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said 'I love you' and meant it
09. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped
11. Visited Paris
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights
15. Gone to a huge sports game
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa (it was closed the day I was there)
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
18. Touched an iceberg
19. Slept under the stars
20. Changed a baby's diaper
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Gotten drunk on champagne
24. Given more than you can afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse
34. Ridden a roller coaster
35. Hit a home run
36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
39. Had two hard drives for your computer
40. Visited all 50 states (currently at 33)
41. Taken care of someone who was shit faced
42. Had amazing friends
43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
44. Watched wild whales
45. Stolen a sign
46. Backpacked in Europe
47. Taken a road-trip
48. Gone rock climbing
49. Midnight walk on the beach
50. Gone sky diving
51. Visited Ireland
52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger's table and had a meal with them
54. Visited Japan
55. Milked a cow
56. Alphabetized your CDs
57. Pretended to be a superhero
58. Sung karaoke
59. Lounged around in bed all day
60. Posed nude in front of strangers
61. Gone scuba diving
62. Kissed in the rain
63. Played in the mud
64. Played in the rain
65. Gone to a drive-in theater
66. Visited the Great Wall of China
67. Started a business
68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
69. Toured ancient sites
70. Taken a martial arts class
71. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
72. Gotten married
73. Been in a movie
74. Crashed a party
75. Gotten divorced
76. Gone without food for 5 days
77. Made cookies from scratch
78. Won first prize in a costume contest
79. Ridden a gondola in Venice
80. Gotten a tattoo
81. Rafted the Snake River
82. Been on television news programs as an "expert"
83. Got flowers for no reason
84. Performed on stage
85. Been to Las Vegas
86. Recorded music.
87. Eaten shark
88. Had a one-night stand
89. Gone to Thailand
90. Bought a house
91. Been in a combat zone
92. Buried one/both of your parents
93. Been on a cruise ship
94. Spoken more than one language fluently
95. Performed in Rocky Horror
96. Raised children (in progress)
97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
98. Created and named your own constellation of stars
99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn't stop when you knew someone was looking
103. Had plastic surgery
104. Survived an accident (suicide attempt) that you shouldn't have survived
105. Wrote articles for a large publication
106. Lost over 100 pounds
107. Held someone while they were having a flashback
108. Piloted an airplane
109. Petted a stingray
110. Broken someone's heart
111. Helped an animal give birth
112. Won money on a T.V. game show
113. Broken a bone
114. Gone on an African photo safari
115. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced
116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol
117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
118. Ridden a horse
119. Had major surgery
120. Had a snake as a pet
121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
122. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
124. Visited all 7 continents
125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
126. Eaten kangaroo meat
127. Eaten sushi
128. Had your picture in the newspaper
129. Changed someone's mind about something you care deeply about
130. Gone back to school
131. Parasailed
132. Petted a cockroach
133. Eaten fried green tomatoes
134. Read The Iliad - and the Odyssey
135. Selected one "important" author who you missed in school, and read
136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
137. Skipped all your school reunions
138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language (in conjunction with numbers 29 and 88)
139. Been elected to public office
140. Written your own computer language
141. Thought to yourself that you're living your dream
142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
143. Built your own PC from parts
144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn't know you
145. Had a booth at a street fair
146: Dyed your hair
147: Been a DJ
148: Shaved your head
149: Caused a car accident
150: Saved someone's life
Feel free to rip this off and post it yourself . . . I did.
p.s. - I have come to the conclusion that at some point a computer geek of the highest order got ahold of this list and made certain additions to validate their existence. See #'s 39, 71, 140, 143. I would have deleted them, but I just dont have the same time to renumber the list that they appearantly did.
17:00 Posted in Pre-pickle Past | Permalink | Comments (2) | Email this
08/02/2006
Vacation
As most of you know – we just got back from a week on Hilton Head Island in South Carolina. To get there we flew into Atlanta (to meet up with The Wife’s sister and hubby) and drove from there to Hilton Head (4+ hrs).
I had had severe concerns about taking The Pickle on this trip due to the travel, but as it turns out - she handled it all much better than I did.
Overall we had an outstanding trip, but for any of you considering the possibility of imprisoning six adults and one infant under one roof for “family fun” - I sincerely recommend rethinking your plans.
Humans are funny. It seems, despite our best intentions, we all seem to have things called ‘needs’. Surprisingly six people rarely have the same needs at the same times.
This is something that became more and more obvious as time went on, and eventually led to me locking myself in our room for the last day and a half just trying to keep from having an overt conflict of interest that I know would have damaged my already perilous relationship with my in-laws. By the end of the vacation, I was perceived to be an anti-social jerk rather than the ass-hole I would have inevitably been seen as had I remained in contact with my in-laws for all of the required social activities.
I know that it is a very good thing that my daughter has the opportunity to have a relationship with her grandparents, and that they are so passionate about having that relationship with her. I just wonder if perhaps this relationship could occur without psychologically damaging yours truly.
We do all try to get along. We just refuse to compromise. So despite good will and fair intent we always end up in a bitter battle of will.
I know that my mother-in-law (MIL) is not going to change – just as I have no intention of change. The challenge that showed it’s ugly head on this vacation is how we can remain true to ourselves without it putting The Pickle in the middle (that’s funny).
I have no desire to use my daughter as a tool of manipulation toward my in-laws. I am neither that cruel or cold, but on this vacation I found that my desire to be with my daughter, and to not do what my MIL was doing - inevitably created situations where either plans were changed or resentment was felt because of control issues with the child.
I don’t feel good about this.
As much as they grate on me, and I at times would prefer a parallel universe where I didn’t have to take their opinions into consideration – I will not stand between them and The Pickle.
I think that that is what got to me the most on this trip. Normally I would have had the argument, but for once I was aware of the fact that I am the intermediary between these people, and that my opinion and ego are less important than their relationship.
This is a new idea for me, and I wasn’t even fully aware of why I was feeling so lousy until well after the fact. What changed things for me was The Wife explaining a misconception that my in-laws had - regarding my big avoidance.
On the last night of our stay my MIL had offered to baby-sit and pay for dinner at a very nice restaurant the four ‘kids’ (Me, Wife, SIL, BIL). By the time that afternoon had rolled around I was already DONE with the MIL. I had reached the point where I was incapable of accepting anything else from her.
It is such a fine line between gracious host and entitled bitch, and the MIL usually falls on the latter side of that fence. There was no way I was going to have her baby-sit and pay for dinner. I think I was afraid that when we returned she would have constructed a make-shift cross in the living room of the condo for her final martyrdom.
Because I decided to not have the confrontation regarding the issue, my in-laws perceived my refusal of dinner to be a reflection on my trust of their ability to baby-sit.
Yeah.
Therein lies the guilt, and the pickle in the middle.
So how do you fix this one? I don’t know, but I have a feeling that it will eventually lead to that dreaded and most difficult of all words . . . Compromise.
Pickle’s Papa
10:33 Posted in Pickle Ponderings | Permalink | Comments (6) | Email this