Nothing without her

I spent a few hours last night reading through many of the archived posts on this site. That was a difficult thing to do for me, emotionally. I discovered some old posts about our not-so-little-anymore children from when they were little and unearthed some buried feelings about other members of my family. I had forgotten about the site altogether and it has sat dormant for a couple of years.

And what a couple of years.

Where to begin... Well, the last time I wrote we had five kids. Now there are seven. When last I updated things regularly (Oct. 2013), I was just starting my job as a sportswriter for a local newspaper. Now I'm getting set to enter my fifth year there and I've added a new duty: I'm the mayor of Delphos. Yeah, that's pretty crazy. I'm also a full-time student once again, having enrolled at Bluffton in five semesters ago. I'll graduate in May. All of that is just was has happened to me, it says nothing of the changes I've undergone as a person, nor of the lives my children have experienced in three or four years.

That's a lot to cover in one update, so I guess this will have to turn into a few posts once I get going.

Let's start here, though: I'm the mayor.

I didn't really have any intention to be the mayor, but I did apply for the job. When Mayor Gallmeier resigned due to health reasons, the Democratic Party asked for resumes to be appointed to fill his seat. I sent mine in expecting only to introduce myself to some city and county officials so that, in the future when I wasn't so busy (full-time job, full-time student) I could run for city council or something. I guess the interview went better than I expected because here I am, having been sworn in only last week and facing an election in November against three opponents all salivating to finish the term (through 2019). If I don't win the seat, my term will be less than five months long. So we'll see how that goes, I guess.

Part of the reason I didn't expect to be appointed (apart from the whole I have zero experience or qualifications thing) is that I am, apparently, a historically-bad interviewee. I mean I had three interview for a job at P&G and couldn't land it and that's just one example. Any time I have interviewed for a position that could be filled by anyone that can pass a drug screen, I've been passed over, and NOT because I couldn't pass a drug screen (I could, and did). 

Valerie says that's because when I interview for those jobs, at factories or the like, the hiring managers are worried I'm coming for their jobs. She says they're intimidated by me. A few months ago, we were talking while i was driving, and I don't even recall how the subject came up, but she told me there were three types of people, and you'll have to envision her physical movements for this part. She says there are people who are down here (as she waves her hand in a circular pattern near her waist), there are people who are about here (waves her hand at about shoulder level), and people who are up here (above her head). She told me I was up here, and that other people could see it.

This is going to sound cocky, but I had often suspected the same. Given my relative lack of success in life, however, I had long since begun to doubt myself. Valerie's admission was the first time in our near-10 years together that she had said anything like that to me, but I instantly felt validated. It made sense.

I have spent a lot of time over the life of this blog investigating myself and my feelings and emotions. Even as I have left the posts unwritten, I have continued to explore those ideas and thoughts. But here is the ultimate truth of everything you will find here and everything you'll find if you get to know me at all: I am who I am today because of the woman who agreed to marry me. That's it. Without her, I wouldn't have the motivation to improve. Without here, I wouldn't have the patience I have worked hard to develop. Without her, I wouldn't have the perspective I enjoy now, I wouldn't be as... kind isn't the right word... less abrasive, maybe... as I am today. I wouldn't be in college, I wouldn't be carrying a near-4.0 GPA, I wouldn't be a year away from a career as a teacher, and I wouldn't have ever considered trying to be the mayor. 

Valerie gives me the courage to do things I could never have done before. She gives me the courage to push past any self-doubt. She, alone, is responsible for the new-and-improved John. "Thank you" just doesn't seem like enough when someone gives you everything.

Anyone got any calamine lotion?

I've been itching to write something.

I guess that's a kind of silly thing to say, because I write constantly. This job of mine, where I watch sports and write about it, is pretty cool and I probably write 8-10 stories per week between the games and the preview and features and whatnot.

So, writing, itself, is not the issue, but I'd like to write something a bit more creative, I think.

The only question is, what should I write?

A couple weeks back, I wrote a short story for Sebastian. It was a silly little thing I threw together in about 5 minutes and made up as I went along. The idea was to see how well he was comprehending what he was reading (pretty well, actually). Anyhow, it was actually kind of fun, and the story got rave reviews from Valerie and the kids.

Am I really a children's story writer, though? Seems like i might have to downsize my vocabulary a bit in order to make that one work.

The idea of penning a novel or something of that length is overwhelming, though, so I should probably stick to short stories or some type.

I guess this isn't much of a post; more of a brainstorming session, really. Oh well. It's nice to look around in my head every once in a while. Maybe it will help me sleep a bit tonight...

Day trippin'

There is a balance that needs to be achieved between work and home life. In the first six or so weeks of my job at the paper, it's been difficult if not impossible to find that balance. Though we print five days per week, I do have to cover events whenever they are being played, which means I don't really have days off at all; only hours.
It was Valerie's weekend off. I was supposed to cover cross country in the morning and then go cover soccer in the evening, all on a day that we don't print a paper.
A funny thing happened on Friday night, however. I was scrambling to put together the Saturday edition when Jim from the Delphos paper emailed me asking if I was doing the CC meet the next day. I confirmed that I was unless he had planned on it. Not only did he volunteer, he also told me he was doing the soccer game I had scheduled.
Instead, since we had a rare day when neither she nor I had to work, we made an impromptu trip to the zoo in Toledo.
The drive was long, and made even longer by the fighting in the back seat, but the ride was great in our new vehicle. I didn't mention that, did I?
We bought a new (to us) suv just a couple days before. Traded in the van to get an eight-passenger Ford Expedition. You know, that way we can bring Phoenix with us when we go somewhere. Or something like that...
I know a lot of my posts here, as sporadic as they are, are devoted to some sort of internal struggles I have going on. Not this one. This one is just a fond memory of a great day with the family. The kind of day that doesn't come around all that often with the schedules that Valerie and I have at work.
As I write this, I get a text from my lovely bride that reads: "My idea of a perfect day consists of BLTs, baseball, a nap and queso. We have all of that if I can find a nap."
Is she great or what?

An Eventful Trip to the Grocery

My Saturday started like any other. I slept in a bit, then went downstairs when Atticus woke up. There were a couple kids already awake and Leyton told me that his belly hurt. It wasn't a comment said while in pain, nor did he look or act all that uncomfortable. He asked for a Tums and was given one.

A couple hours later, he mentioned it again, though, again, he didn't appear to be acting abnormally. Leyton is kind of a tough kid in that he doesn't often need comforting. That afternoon, I took him and Amity to the grocery store while Valerie and Atticus took a nap. We weren't shopping long when he began to whimper about his belly. I let him ride in the cart, but it wasn't long until he began sobbing in pain. The decision was made right then and there to leave the store and go straight to Ambulatory Care.

The care we got there was... disappointing, but no where near the worst experience of the day. The first thing the urgent care doctor said when she finally came into the room was "why would you bring him here instead of the ER with his history?" (side note: Leyton was born with gastroschisis - intestines outside of his body- which is the history she spoke about) There was no "history" as far as I was concerned. In his nearly five years, there has been zero digestive issues of any kind since he was 24 days old. She agreed to do an xray, but seemed almost determined that it would show nothing.

It showed something. It showed what she thought might be an abnormality. So off to St. Ritas we went.

The Ambulatory Care folks called ahead for us and gave me a form to give to the ER. This form would tell St. Ritas all they would need to know and expedite the process. Or so we were told.

Instead, we arrived at the ER with only two others in the waiting room. Those folks were called back while Kendra A. stumbled and fumbled her way through trying to figure out how to handle a transfer patient. There was a lot of phone calls and "how you do that? where do the 'e' go?" Finally she told us to have a seat. There was no one else in the waiting room. No one. At one point in the 15 or so minutes we waiting, a lady came out and called for another patient, who wasn't there, then retreated. Meanwhile, another hospital employee came up to chat with Kendra A. Leyton, by this point, began having bouts of pain so sever that he would cry loudly for a couple minutes. Almost like contractions, these would attack every 5-7 minutes.

My wife doesn't like when I get impatient in public. I tend to get rude. I got rude with Kendra A. and asked when Leyton might get seen, since, you know, this is an actual emergency and he was sent here by another physician. She disappeared into the beck only to return and say "he's next." Well no shit, he's next; there is no one else in the waiting room.

We get into the triage area and they can't figure out how much Leyton weighs - you know, important stuff since he'd already been weighed and he's here on referral for an actual emergency unlike the bulk of those who hang out at St. Ritas every time they get an STD or a hangnail. One woman had the balls to ask if Leyton had a tummy ache when he was mid-attack. That's when Valerie, who never ever says what's on her mind, asked if maybe they hadn't gotten the memo. The other guy then hurried off to find out what we were talking about. Soon, though not soon enough, we were moved to a room.

From there it was testing and lots of it. Leyton had a CT scan and the CT tech kept trying to reassure him during his screaming fits, which are now almost constant, that things would be okay and that his mommy's right there. Finally, I broke the news to her that Leyton isn't scared, but he is in a great deal of pain, so her soothing words are doing no good to anyone.

Another near hour passed and while nurses went in and out of his room, Leyton never saw a doctor. By this point he had been at St. Rita's for over three hours without a doctor ever glancing at him at all. I was getting as loud as Leyton was - his pain and loud crying constant. Some asshole nurse even came and shut his door at one point. I guess he was bothering her. I opened that back up.

I didn't like being the asshole parent, but it sure felt like we were the only three people in that hospital that gave a shit what was happening with Leyton. Finally, my fit-throwing drew the attention of a CNP and eventually a doctor. Finally, they gave him some morphine. The first dose did nothing. The second dose and also some other stuff helped to ease the pain.

They wanted another CT, this one with contrast, and they said we had a twisting of the bowel. That means surgery. The doctor said he'd talk to the surgeon and see if he was comfortable working on a child of this age. If not, I was told, they'd talk to Columbus. I said then let's just go to Columbus.

So the CT was done, including barium enema and it was decided that instead of ambulance ride, Leyton was taking a helicopter (per request of Children's Hospital). Two hours later, Valerie and I arrived in Columbus. Leyton had been there in a half an hour.

The folks at Children's are a different breed, I think. The care is night and day. From the moment we walked in to find four nurses surrounding Leyton, keeping him company, I knew this was the only place we should be. There was constant updates given and while we did have to endure another xray and another CT (St. Ritas sent the same CT twice instead of sending both of those they did - thanks again for that one) we moved quickly and before long, Leyton was being prepped for surgery. The last CT we had included no fewer than four doctors and two nurses in the room. From there it was a matter of getting the surgeon out of bed at 3 am to make it happen. At just after 4 am, we met with Dr. King (described by the anesthesia guy as a great surgeon but not very friendly). He has matter-of-fact, but otherwise okay. I'd rather have a great surgeon than a helluva nice guy cutting open my son. Later, I saw his name on the wall of fame at Children's - he's a good one.

Finally, Valerie and I got some rest, although short. We crashed out in the waiting room for about an hour. Dr. King came in and told us all was well. They were able to fix the twist with no loss of bowel. It was the best possible news. Additionally, they removed his appendix and moved his belly button over a bit to make it more centered.

Apart from the struggles of the security guy to create our access, all else was good and soon Valerie and I were able to take a nap along side Leyton in his room.

As I write this, Leyton is resting pretty comfortably. He's learned to work the remote, but also has cleared some hurdles and he's been up walking around and generally getting better. He's gonna be here for at least five more days, which sucks since Valerie and I both have to work, but thankfully Rob and Beth are once again there for us, watching the other kids and taking time off work to help. They are awesome people and are constantly giving of themselves.

I sucks being so far from home, but I know given the "care" he got in Lima, that this is the only place we should be with Leyton. These people, this place, they're different - no question about it. Get well soon, Buddy.

A Break in the Clouds

About five years ago or so, I began writing. I had been recently married and my wife wasn't much of a fan of sports in general or baseball in particular and she couldn't care less about the Tigers. In dire need of an outlet, I found the online community at Bless You Boys and eventually decided I had more to say than would fit in the comments section. That was how the original version of this little corner of the internet was started: as a Tigers baseball blog.

There have been many highs and lows along the way, but I am forever grateful that things began the way they did for me. Valerie is a much bigger fan of the Tigers now and we watch games together all the time. She even pretends to care about some of the issues with the team that I cannot help but to rail about. Sometimes, anyway. My writing has jumped around from network to network and from site to site, but I've been writing, pretty much non-stop, since 2008.

This afternoon, I had a second interview with the Van Wert Times Bulletin for the vacant Sports Editor position. Instead of an actual interview, however, the first thing the guy said to me was "Well, what do you think?" My reply was simply to ask how soon he needed me. Just like that, I was given the job.

I never went to Journalism school. I attended college, but didn't finish a degree. I have never written for a newspaper and until my initial interview with the Times Bulletin, I had never even stepped foot inside a newsroom of any kind. I have never even covered a live sporting event as media.

But, thanks to my work online, I am now the Sports Editor at an AP award-winning newspaper. My hobby, that I have devoted far too much time to and gotten far too little pay for, has now become my career. And for the first time in 14 months, I have a career.

I will only recount the past year or so in order to better appreciate where I am today. I was fired by the car dealership I worked for. It was a crap job and I really didn't like it at all, but it was income. I continued writing for the network I have been with for four years or so, in hopes that it would lead to a full-time position with the company. That looked like a sure thing until they no longer saw the value of my role. That was just a couple of months ago. Earlier this Summer, I was finally called in for a final interview at P&G, only to learn that I didn't get that job, either. Oh, and our rental property has been a headache the whole time.

During all of this, Valerie has carried the load, working 50+ hour weeks at a hog farm while I have spent my days with the kids and the housework. It has often times been trying and sometimes miserable, but I couldn't be happier that I've had the opportunity to spend so much time getting to know them and helping them be the little people they are becoming. Most fathers don't get that chance and I know it has enriched my life in ways I cannot express. For that, I am eternally grateful to those folks at the dealership who saw fit to relieve me of duties.

I have a big family and we have scraped by on very little income for quite a while now. Along the way, I think we've learned that maybe everything really does happen for a reason. Maybe you really do have to go through Hell to get to Heaven. And maybe things do have a way of evening out.

It's been a long time since we had a winning streak, but the tide is turning here at La Maison Parent.

It looks like the rental property is finally going away and hopefully will be out of Valerie's name. I have secured an actual big kid job doing something I love, and while it doesn't pay a ton, it will be a much better income than I've had in quite a while, and Valerie and I have probably never been happier.

It will be an adjustment, this new working outside of the home thing, and hopefully we can make the best of it. There are good things ahead for our family and I am so thankful to be able to say that.

Soccer Sunday

It's soccer season and in a family with five children (three of them old enough to play), that means nightly trips to the soccer fields. We have one playing on Mondays, on on Tuesday and Thursday and one on Wednesday. Every team in every division plays a game on Soccer Sunday, however, and that's when team photos are taken as well.

What that means for us, as a family, is that we had to get to the fields at 1130 in the morning yesterday and couldn't leave until after 430 in the afternoon.

Needless to say, my shaved head is a wonderful shade of purple today, it is so burnt. Even just arching my eyebrows causes pain.

Leyton is an active player, which is a start. In his age group, it's really nothing more than partially controlled chaos. He runs, but I'm not sure he knows why he's running. He seems interested and his attention doesn't wander on the field, which is far more than I can say about many of his teammates.

Sebastian scored two goals in a scrimmage the other day. Those are the first two goals scored by one of my kids in the combined five seasons of play. When they put the uniforms on for the first time, however, it was as if he had never even seen a soccer ball before. Sebastian should be much better at this than he is, and he has improved, but something just doesn't click with him and soccer. He's a step or two behind everybody else.

Lillian's team is in the 8-10 age group and you can see a big difference in the play. There was an actual pass, on purpose, to an open teammate that lead directly to a goal. I had never seen one of kids' teams run a play before. As Brittany noted, it will probably be until the boys get into that age group that I'll see one from their teams. Still, Lillian did some good things and she ran hard and seemed to have an idea of where she should be. You can tell that for the first time, there is a deeper thinking put into playing the game; it's not just about chasing the ball anymore. So that's cool. Makes for a far more entertaining game.

It was a long day in the hot sun and I certainly wasn't the only person to suffer the effects. But it's behind us now for another year. Now, we get shorter, but more frequent doses of youth soccer.

Are you there, God? It's me, John

I spent some time in prayer last night. This is something that doesn't happen often.

It's not that I don't believe in a higher power per se, it's that I have a lot of questions and I have been unable to find satisfactory answers.

When you consider that the Bible is a book several centuries old and one that has been copied by hand thousands of times, and translated into dozens of languages, each time by a different translator, oh, and that every time a new King took over in England, the Bible was altered significantly, I think a little skepticism about the contents is not only rational but responsible.

While I may not blindly believe all of the stories I've been taught, I am fairly certain that this existence isn't just a collection of randomness; there has to be some grand design, doesn't there?

With that in mind, and when considering all of the decisions that had to have been made exactly how they were in order for any of us to wind up where we are, it's terrifying to think where we would be if any one of those decisions were made differently.

So, on occasion, I do direct my thoughts at this higher power. I wanted to make sure last night, as I was thinking about the good things that have happened lately, that I gave at least some credit to that grand design. Too often, I think the only time "God" is brought in is when there is blame to be assigned or in times of desperation. That's not fair, is it? If he exists when you have no where else to turn, he'd darn well better exist when you do.

There is no real conclusion to be drawn from this post. It's more just a thought that came over me and I decided to write it down.