The Waiting Place

When last we spoke, I was one day removed from being, well, removed from my job. Now more than five weeks later and I'm still holding out hope that my unemployment claim will get approved. It was denied once, but I filed an appeal and I'm hopeful it goes through. Until then, I wait. And hope. On the plus side, I have an interview tomorrow in Celina, so this might be the one. We'll see. If nothing else, it's an excuse to shave. I haven't done that in a while.

Sebastian turns six in two days. He had a dry pullup a couple days go, but not last night. He didn't even want to talk about it. It was like he was embarrassed to have not peed his bed. Sometimes I think he's wired backwards. He's rarely happy, at least not for long, and he goes through long stretches of depression. He's only just about to turn six. I've never seen any child, let alone one that young, who is so troubled. It worries me. Of course, just as we were getting him going to see a doctor about these problems, we lost our insurance and this doctor doesn't take medicaid. I guess poor people aren't allowed to work through their issues.

Amity has been learning to pee on the potty lately. She's had an accidents, of course, but she's getting pretty good at it. We even drove to Columbus on Saturday without incident. For the record, she wears a diaper to bed and even though she sleeps for at lest ten hours a night, the diaper is almost always dry.

So for the past five weeks I've been a stay at home dad. I make dinner every night and take care of most of the housework. This gig at the network looks like it might actually become more than just a hobby at some point. I've been with them for two and a half years and for the first time, I really think it could eventually become like a real job. We have some news coming up next month and after that, I think traffic will just explode. How cool would it be to work from home? Then I'd get the best of both worlds.

This has been a short post today and it's jumped around a lot. I feel rusty. It's been a good long while since I really wrote something. Let's hope this post knocks some of that rust off so I can do better next time. I'll try not to wait five weeks.

Careful What You Wish For

Last month I told you all that I had mentally checked out from my job at Tom Ahl's. I went to the GM and talked to him about adding some responsibilities to my tasks; sitting at a desk waiting for the phone to ring is a boring way to earn a living. At the time, Vince (the GM) sounded all excited to get me more involved. A month later, they still hadn't given me any extra duties. Instead, yesterday morning, I was relieved of my duties altogether.

So here I sit, officially one day into unemployment. I used to pick the kids up from grandma's and spend about 2-2.5 hours alone with them before Valerie gets home. Now, I get the 3-9 shift all to myself. So far, so good as far as the kids are concerned. I'm not sure how you're supposed to get anything else done around the house though.

I filed a claim for unemployment already. I should hear back in 3 weeks or so. Tom actually apologized for not giving me a warning at all, so since there was no prior disciplinary documentation at all, I'm fairly confident I'll get approved. I'm sure you're wondering: I was let go because two customers (seperately, about two weeks apart) complained about me. It should be noted that the first customer repeatedly refused to return the rental car and refused to return phone calls made in an attempt to recover the car. The second didn't like that I refused her service because she didn't have a credit card. In other words, I enforced the policy I was paid to enforce. Tom decided that since both of these customers were black females, I must have a problem with them (his words). Of course, 75% of my customers were black and I did the job for 6 years without incident, but whatever. It's done.

So now I have a chance to do something else and I guess that's cool. Hopefully I can find something a bit more challenging that offers me a bit more money as well. We shall see. Until then, I get to be a full-time dad. And that's pretty cool, too.

Of Mind and Body

If you've been following along here, you know I've dedicated many a post to the exploration of the inner workings of my own mind. I time I've spent introspectively has been done without guidance, aside from a few select websites that gave me pointers, but it has yielded results. At least I think it has. I suppose my wife may have other thoughts on the matter.

Valerie wrote (on her blog) the other day. She has a wonderful style about her writing. It's informal to be sure, but it captures the essence of her. Every time she writes, it reads like she's speaking the words. I know it sounds simple, but that's a much tougher thing to pull off than you'd guess. Anyhow, she wrote about excitement and about having something to look forward to. She's working on getting her body back after the delivery of Atticus and she's set a wonderful goal for herself. I am, once again, starting my own fitness quest.

I feel like I have a better understanding of myself than I ever have. I think the time I have spent examining my mind and my reactions to different situations has been time well spent. I concede that there is more work to be done in those areas, but I think that I have gained a touch of patience and a slightly sunnier demeanor over the past several months. I have learned that I can sometimes catch myself slipping into a bad mood, reacting negatively to an annoyance, and do things to try to change course.

I have become aware of me.

As I get older, I have also aware of my body; still teetering on the edge of 300 pounds. I haven't worked out regularly since, well, probably ever. I mean when I was in high school I worked out on occasion, but I have probably done more consistent exercise in the past few months than I did at any point growing up. Combine the lack of activity with an unhealthy obsession with video games and this is what happens. And this is why my kids will not be getting any video games any time soon. You hear that Grandma and Grandpa? No matter what they say or ask for. Nothing that can distract them from the physical activity and fresh air of the outdoors.

I do get sidetracked when I write, don't I?

Valerie has decided that the big payoff for her (and us, really) will be a trip to Mexico. This will happen right around our 5-year anniversary. The goal then, is to not embarrass her.

So, in the meantime, I am eating better, but not torturing myself. I am going to the gym with regularity, but not burning myself out (I need to go a bit more often, I think), and while I'm there, I'm lifting weights in addition to making sure I get some cardio work in. The last part is a change from the weight-loss efforts this winter, when I was doing cardio exclusively. This time, I'd much rather build muscle while also losing fat. It might take longer to bring my overall number down, but I assume I will be much happier with the finished product. The long-story short is that I have always had very strong legs and always had very weak upper body muscles. Time to balance that out a bit.

Basically, what it comes down to is convincing myself to do the work and convincing myself to avoid unhealthy eating habits.

Dieters frequently regret their moments of weakness. That donut they snuck or that piece of cake, or that trip through the drive-thru at taco bell, they all come with guilt. That guilt is enough to make anyone give up. So far, the thing I have found that has helped me is an inspirational quote.

"I really regret that workout." -No one. Ever.

 

In My Head, I'm Already Gone

The date was April 29, 2011. That was the official email I received from Proctor & Gamble. The email that would change my life, or so I thought. I had made it! After a screening process literally four months long, I had passed the initial questionnaire, passed the four-hour long test, and finally passed the panel interview. The email confirmed that I was placed in the hiring pool, from which names would be drawn and offered employment.

A job at P&G meant more than doubling my salary in the first year and tripling it by year five. So, for the next few weeks, I checked my email fervently. Weeks turned to months and eventually I began to lose confidence. Why wouldn't they call? Several times over the weeks and months I logged in to their website to make sure they had my correct information.

Finally, yesterday, my one year anniversary in the hiring pool arrived and with it came an end to my hopes of a life-changing job. You get only a year in the pool and my year was up.

While my personal life is probably more fulfilling than ever, professionally I have been left feeling unsatisfied. I've worked the same position at Tom Ahl's dealership, watching from the sidelines as those around me have been moved to bigger and better opportunities. I suppose I should be grateful, as I really have no boss and the arrangement allows me the time needed to write. But I don't do a ton of writing anymore and now I'm just flat-out bored. Of course, boredom is something I'd happily put up with for the right price, but that has never been one of the perks of this job and lately it's headed in the wrong direction.

I've sent out an application that looks promising and this week I'll send out some more. I've convinced myself, in my head, that this is probably my last week at Tom Ahl's rental counter and I cannot wait to move on to a new challenge. Six years is a long time to watch as others are given opportunities to advance, to watch as others leapfrog over me. I'm just about ready to go.

Of course, a year ago I was convinced that my days at Tom Ahl's were numbered and that didn't pan out. This time, with my wife pondering staying home with the kids, the time seems right to move on, where ever the next stop may be.

I don't know where I'll work, or even if I'll work at all should Valerie decide to go back to the farm. I know the next stop won't likely be as lucritive as P&G would have been, but almost anything will be more so than this place. Ideally, I'd get to do the network stuff full-time and make a decent living from home, which would kill two birds for us, but that doesn't appear in the cards for at least several months. In the meantime, I just can't see myself convincing me to go into work at the dealership everyday for too much longer. This ship has sailed.

In my head, I'm already gone.

I'll Take Literary Characters for $1000, Alex

Okay, so I'm a little late with this. Like 10 days late.

After waiting for what seemed like forever, Valerie had what we hoped would be her final doctor's appointment on Friday, March 30; a date otherwise known as the due date for our PTBNL. The exam was disappointing, as Valerie was still dilated just 3cm, just as she had been for weeks. "Go home," she said, "talk a walk, have sex, do whatever you need to do. Then gather your things and go to the hospital if you feel anything at all." Still, Valerie was worried the hospital staff would send her home unless she was really in labor. We went to lunch, went for a walk, then collected the kids from school and packed their bags for grandma's house and at roughly 4:30 pm, we showed up at the hospital, ready to have a baby.

The nurses were great, both the day shift nurse and the one who guided us the rest of the way. The started her on pitocin to set the labor in motion and eventually Valerie opted for the epidural as well. Things weren't progressing much at all, however, and eventually the baby was having trouble breathing through the contractions. The nurse tried placing my wife in different positions to take the strain off the baby, but nothing was working. Finally, she had Valerie get on all fours and began re-filling her fluids, in an attempt to get the baby to "float" off of the umbilical cord. After a brutal half an hour in this position, Valerie was re-checked and her dilation was complete. From 6cm to 10 in just that half hour. Quite suddenly, it was showtime.

One "practice" push, as they called it, got the baby all the way down the birth canal. After waiting for almost a full minute to allow the doctor time to remove the monitor and all the other lines in the way, the next push produced the baby's head. A quick bit of work by the doctor unwrapped the cord from around his little neck and two pushes later, our son was born.

Atticus Ty joined our family at 12:38 am, just thirty-eight minutes past his due date. He weighed 8 lbs 13 oz (two ounces less than Amity had) and was a whopping 22 inches long. His hands and feet were large and so was his head, which measured 15 inches around. Ouch.

As I said, all that happened ten days ago. In the meantime, life at home has been unusual in some ways and exactly the same in others. Atticus sleeps a lot and he doesn't really cry all that much. He seems pretty relaxed from what I can tell. His siblings seem to like him well enough, though Sebastian took a while to warm up to the idea of yet another new baby. Amity is enthralled by him.

Dad and Vickie came to town this past weekend and came to the house twice. It was as if they'd never left. Unfortunately, they left us again to head back to Florida. I'm not sure they mentioned when they'd be back again. The kids miss them. So do I. Everybody does, really. But the time we had this week was great and I can't wait for the next visit.

So far, Valerie and Atticus seem to have worked out a pretty good feeding schedule. As soon as he even whimpers, she scoops him up for a quick snack and before he even realizes it, he's asleep once again. Thankfully, she's been letting me sleep through this. In turn, I've been up to take the kids to school each day as needed. It's not fun, but it's the least I can do.

I'm not sure who he looks like. The majority say Amity, but I see some Leyton faces there as well. He's a good looking kid, I think. He just looks like Atticus. He's so tiny and yet so big. As far as the name, everyone seems to love it, surprisingly enough.

I think we did good, Babe.

Amity and the PTBNL

Tomorrow, my baby girl will be two years old. She's been battling a fever for the better part of a week now, and that's lead to plenty of lost sleep for her mom and me. Last night, I took a trio of little ones to have dinner with their aunt and uncle. Amity was in high spirits there; the fever no longer a factor. She ran and played and ate well and jabbered up a storm.

I spent a very long time being quite certain that I wanted no part of being a dad. I could barely afford to take care of myself, I reasoned. They'd be annoying. I'm too busy. Funny thing about that, though, is that the priorities just seem to shift all by themselves when they need to. There have been things I'd like to do that I no longer can, but none of that matters at all when I come home from work and immediately have at least two kids draped around my legs welcoming me back to their lives.

Amity and Leyton have only seemed to grow closer over the past few months. Now that she can articulate her thoughts a bit better, she always has to make sure that whatever she has, that Leyton gets one, too. It's not unusual for the two of them to randomly hug each other and one is always asking the other to play. It reminds me a lot of when Lillian and Sebastian were a bit younger; they did many of the same things. I wonder how that dichotomy will change once the Player To Be Named Later* is born.

*Actually, my wife and I have already settled on a name for the new baby, but Player Whose Name Is To Be Revealed Later doesn't have the same ring to it, does it?

Speaking of... that PTBNL is in no hurry to greet his older siblings. Valerie has made several appearances at her doctor's office and the progress little baby boy Parent has made seems minimal at best. I told my Dad on March 5 that I was quite certain he'd have a new grandchild before St. Patrick's Day, now I'm just hoping that Amity and he new little bro don't have to share a birthday. Technically, the due date isn't until the 30th, but it can't really go that far, can it?

We've been having quite a bit of fun at Lillian's expense recently. It's driving her nuts that we won't divulge the baby's name, but Valerie did tell her it began with an "A". We've spent the last couple of months referring to the PTBNL in conversation by different "A" names (Anthony, Arnold, Alvin, etc). In one instance, Lillian was convinced we slipped up and revealed the name and she swore she wouldn't tell. It took her all of about 45 seconds after she walked into her grandma's house to unburden herself of that information far too juicy to keep secret. honestly, I can't recall what name it was that Valerie had casually used and Lillian took as gospel, but the true name it wasn't.

We have wooden letters that spell out each child's name. They hang on the walls of their rooms. We've kept the "A" sitting around in the open since Valerie gave that clue and two days ago, we agreed to leave another letter visible. Lillian immediately took the bait and we spent an hour or so trying to guess the name. I had both Lillian and Sebastian guess which letters they thought would be included in the name and wrote each one on a separate piece of paper. Lillian then shuffled them around to try to name names. Didn't work. The best she could come up with was "Aiden", but that's not the name, either.

The waiting game has taken control of our lives, I think. We haven't done laundry since last week sometime. I think we both just expect everyday that tomorrow the baby will and then tomorrow comes and he's not here and we expect it will happen tomorrow. In the meantime, we simply pass the time as quickly as we can and wait for tomorrow to come.

The Continuing Evolution of (this) Man

So I wasn't sure I would ever write this post, but I guess it might be okay to do so now.

As of today, it's been two months and two days since I stopped using smokeless tobacco. This is not the first time I've quit, or even the longest I've gone, but this does feel like the most permanent.

This might come as a surprise to some, but I hid my tobacco use from my wife for quite some time. I had quit after we got married but eventually I began again. I couldn't tell her. Eventually I became reckless and she found the damning evidence. It was a very, very bad day. She says it was the worst day she's had.

Instead of being some tough guy who tried to quit everything altogether, I recognized (probably because of past failures) that it wasn't so much the nicotine or tobacco I craved, it was simply having that something in my mouth. (Yes, I realize this is a topic that disgusts many)

So when I stopped chewing, I replaced it with "fake chew", which is tobacco free and manufactured to look, smell, and taste like the real stuff. I'd tried this before, years ago, and found it to be like plastic, but like most things, they've come a long way. In case you were wondering, Smokey Mountain brand Cherry or Peach is what quelled the cravings for the better part of two months. And by the way, tomorrow will be a week without even using the fake stuff. Now I just chew gum when I "need a fix", so to speak.

Over the past several months, I've taken steps to improve myself, which is something I probably wouldn't have been aware enough to do, let alone motivated enough, without my wife. Once again, she is the my inspiration in all things. I have tried to become more in tuned with my reactions to others, my relationships with my kids, all at her urging. Even if I had thought to do it myself, I likely wouldn't have thought me worth the effort.

This tobacco thing is as much for her as anyone, but just like everything else in the past four years, I find that when I do things for her, they end up really benefiting me as well.

I didn't write this post to be congratulated or patted on the back for a job well done. This isn't that at all. I failed at quitting more than once before this time, but I feel good about the end of this quest being fruitful. I don't feel good about doing what I did to my wife. Hopefully I'll be able to restore her faith in me.