Yet another lesson learned the hard way

Lesson learned: When Elizabeth is so hungry that she becomes an inconsolable little rage monster, we need to take more burp breaks while feeding her. Otherwise she will seem calm but then make a strange gremlin sound and projectile white goo at me like she needs to be exorcism by a priest. My god! The little shit smiled first! Don't tell me she didn't know what she was doing...she plotted! Having a much deserved beer while watching The Exorcist. Cheers...I guess.

Well call me a monkey's father...

Howdy all,

        I can't help but to put my two cents in on the death of Harambe the gorilla at the Cincinnati Zoo. I actually didn't know that it even happened since we were up at the cabin for the weekend with no cell service or internet access. We did have a TV, but since it was raining all weekend and we were in a cabin with 2 small children, the TV hardly left Disney Channel. Anyways, for those of you that don't know, a small boy (one report I read said 3 and another said 4 year old) apparently made his way in to a gorilla habitat at a zoo while his mother was distracted. A large endangered male silverback gorilla ended up finding the boy and started dragging him around "aggressively" and the decision was made to shoot the gorilla in order to protect the boy. All day now, I have been seeing memes that basically say that the Harambe would still be alive if that mother had just kept an eye on her kid. I find myself rather torn...

        As an animal lover, I am appalled that the gorilla was shot. As an asshole, I think they should have played a simple numbers game and decided that there are plenty of humans already, but the gorilla is endangered. But as a new parent...I get the decision. For several reasons. Nobody that has EVER spent time around small children can't tell me that those little shits can turn in to ninjas when they want to. Elizabeth isn't 2 months old yet, but somehow she manages to kick and hit her way to what ever the hell she wants! I consider myself a very involved and attentive parent, but last week my dumb ass didn't have the car seat clicked in all the way. Shit happens and I'm not sure that the mother can be TOTALLY to blame on this one. Again, as a new parent, I will tell you right now that if I was in her shoes and Elizabeth was getting tossed around a gorilla habitat and a zoo representative told me that they needed to protect the gorilla...I am confident that I would turn in to some sort of Rambo type character. Endangered or not, if an animal was tossing Elizabeth around I would gleefully snap its neck and shower in its blood and then make a rug out of it. Hate to get graphic, but it's true.

Ready for the zoo sweetie?

       One primatologist even weighed in and said that it was probably the screaming of the crowd that got Harambe agitated and that's why he started to get so aggressive. So, is it any ONE person's fault? No. But the whole situation has me freaking terrified now. The one story I read about it said that the little boy made it through 2 different barriers. My mother cursed me when I was a little boy when I was being a real shithead and said "I hope you have a kid someday that is just as naughty as you!". Now I have visions of Elizabeth being a little shithead just like her father was and I KNOW that I could have made it through 2 barriers meant to keep me out of a gorilla habitat! Lesson learned: don't bring Elizabeth to a zoo...EVER. Or at least if I do, I should put her in the same contraption that they put Hannibal Lecter in for his court appearance.

      I guess my degree in Primatology from Google U probably isn't enough to make any informed decision, but I do know that although it is a tragedy that Harambe had to be killed, it could have been an even bigger tragedy if that little boy had been killed by an animal that is 6 times stronger than an average man. Thanks for reading everyone. This "prost" is for Harambe...bottoms up man. Cheers.

Family is more than blood...

Howdy y’all,

I have been sitting on this post for a full week now. I won’t lie, this is going to be one of my more serious posts (by “serious” I mean that I try to refrain from making any dick jokes...), so I apologize in advance if I bring anyone down with this one. On May 21^st it would have been my late grandmother’s 98^th birthday. Because my Ma worked so much while I was growing up, I spent a large amount of my time at my grandparents. As a result, I became very close to both of my grandparents, but especially my Grandma. She taught me so much, but probably the greatest lesson she ever taught me was that “family is more than blood”.

Yes...that is the little Fat-dad himself.

 As an example, my grandma was known simply as “Goose” to the majority of my friends and at the very least, was known as “Grandma” to about a solid 1/3 of my hometown. She really drove that point home when my cousin married a woman that had a child from a previous relationship. My grandma was asked, “How are you liking the new step-great grand baby?”. She was quite obviously angry and responded with, “She is my great granddaughter! She will call me great grandma!” She just never saw the point in making the distinction. If you were family, you were family. And family had a very loose definition. She had once given me some advice that I even used in my wedding speech, “Treat your friends like they’re family and always love your family. You will never go wrong”. It stuck with me. Always.

I have always been blessed with great friends. And now my daughter will be blessed with great family based of my Grandma’s definition of the word. Elizabeth will have so many aunts and uncles that she won’t even know what to do with herself. I feel quite comforted in the fact that if anything happens to my wife or I, that my daughter will be surrounded by people that would do anything for her. When I had announced that we were pregnant, many of my guy friends kind of assumed that the party was over. Now they are all so jazzed that they are Uncles that I can’t keep them away from my house!  I seriously almost makes me cry just thinking about it.

When I was a kid I had an Uncle Dave. I am a little proud and a little ashamed to admit that I was almost a teenager before I realized that Uncle Dave had absolutely no blood relation to me. I was probably 12 years old before I put 2 and 2 together and realized that Uncle Dave was, in reality, one of Dad’s old drinking buddies. After my Dad left, Dave stuck around. He would stop over all the time and check in on me, he tried getting me in to model trains, he would check up on Ma, to the point that I had literally no idea that he wasn’t blood family. Between the words of advice from Grandma and the actions of Uncle Dave, I quickly learned that there truly is more to family that genetics.

I never had a Norman Rockwell version of a family growing up, but I have come very close with my wife’s family. A mom, a dad, 3 kids, and now 3 children-in-law and 3 grand-kids.  I was so excited to be a legit uncle when my first niece was born. My goodness! I truly can’t even put it in to words. In my life I have been quite blessed to be considered Uncle Brian to many of my friends’ kids. I have also had the honor of being a Godfather to my cousin’s son, and one of my best friends’ daughter. My wife and I are legal guardians to 3 kids in the event anything happens to the parents (Every time they go on vacation my wife and I pray and sacrifice a virgin so that nothing happens to the parents. We love those kids, but I couldn’t imagine multiplying my simple little family overnight!) But there was just something about becoming a “legit uncle”, which was a thought that I slapped myself for, because even though I am not blood to most of the kids that I am an uncle to they are still loved like they are blood.

One change that I have actually been trying to make since becoming a father is that I am trying to let go of my anger. For years and years I was angry at my father for leaving. I don’t want to get into the whole back story, but I was simply put…angry. I wasn’t able to wrap my mind around it growing up. I was even going to get a tattoo when Elizabeth was born that said “It doesn’t matter who your father was, all that matters is the father you are going to be” in Mando’a. But while going through the pregnancy, I actually started speaking to my father again. Long story short there, even though things are still in a weird place, I am learning to give up my anger about the situation for the sake of my daughter. Things are still moving slowly and I have a lot of work to do on my end. I spent the better part of 3 decades destroying bridges and I now I am slowly trying to rebuild them. But the amazing part is that even though I have spent so much time destroying these bridges, people are inherently good and are willing to give me that second chance. I just don’t want to have my daughter pay for any of my sins I guess. I have since changed my mind and will be getting a tattoo that says “Buir” which is simply “Parent” in Mando’a.

Although I was terrified of how becoming a father would change me, I will say that making me let go of my anger has been an awesome change that was also long overdue. Since the death of my grandmother and then the death of my Ma, I had been moving further and further away from my side of the family. I had my reasons for it at the time and I will even go so far as to say that due to where I was emotionally at the time, it was for the best, but I am very glad that my daughter has made me open my eyes. Family, whether it is blood or not, is important. So here is my cheers for all of you (you know who you are) that are my family! Prost!

Tom Brocaw can bite me, but you kids should still get off my lawn.

Howdy,

                Recently I was listening to a comedian on Pandora and he went on a rather humorous rant about how kids these days have it so easy. I have my own pretty solid rant about the current state of children’s playgrounds, but that is for another day. Anyways… it really got me thinking about the past, present and future of our youth. Do they actually have it that easy? Did we have it that bad? Are the baby boomers really all that great? Who really is the greatest generation? See if you can follow me on this whole thought process.

                “Back in my day...” is the start of a rant that I have heard some variation of a billion and a half times. It has really got me thinking about my childhood and I have come to a very startling realization, of course things were better when *insert who is speaking* was a kid! Everything is better when you are a kid! You don’t have a job, people buy you shit, do your laundry, clean up after you, you literally have next to ZERO responsibility! How awesome would all of that be right now?! I grew up in the 90’s, it wasn’t an especially great or terrible time to grow up, but my recollection of it was that it was the shit *in case there is a generational gap “the shit” is a positive term*. But that is the problem with every generation; you remember it through the eyes of a child. A child always remembers the awesome stuff, almost never the shitty things that “define a generation”.

                I will get to tell Elizabeth about a time pre-9/11 when you could pick up a friend from the airport at their gate! Back in my day, we didn’t have your fancy GPS! Back in my day, we didn’t have your IPODs! Back in my day, you were lucky if your car got 20 miles to the gallon! So forth and so on. My Ma used to tell me her stories about growing up too. Back in my day we didn’t have computers! Back in my day gas used to be less than a dollar! Back in my day everyone was stoned! This pattern continues with my grandparents. My grandparents used to tell me stories about growing up in the depression, riding a horse to their one room schoolhouse, what it was like to live before planes. On and on and on and on. So this got me thinking…does any of this shit make one generation better or worse than any other?

                I mean, think of it. I grew up in the MTV generation, and the baby boomers give us constant shit because of all of the advantages that we have. But isn’t that simply how time, innovation and society works? To my great-grandparents, my mother’s generation had it soooooo easy. “What do you mean you don’t have polio AND cholera?!”. Every generation works their ass off to make sure that their children have a better life than they did growing up, and then they spend the remainder of their years bitching about how better the new generation’s life is! That doesn’t even begin to make any real kind of sense. If you go back far enough, then one of your ancestors will bitch about even “The Greatest Generation”. They would say “What do you mean you don’t just die of the flu?!”, “What do you mean that most women that give birth live?!”, “What do you mean that you don’t have to track your meal across the frozen tundra for 12 days?!”. Your 150^th great-grandparents would think that you and all preceding generations were a bunch of raging pussies!

                With that being said, I am quite thankful that I managed to do the majority of my stupid shit before the advent of social media. I have little to no shame, so I have no qualms with posting about my stupidity on social media. Nor do I seem to have a problem posting about the stupid shit my daughter pulls, but I do feel a little bad that all of this will follow her forever (not bad enough to stop doing it by the way). My generation is the in-between generation. We still ran around until the streetlights came on, but we had Nintendo (and streetlights for that matter). We had the internet, but it was pretty much only used only for Porn and science stuff (that might be the most accurate description of the early internet you will ever read btw) until I was quite a bit older. We had cars, but they didn’t have nearly as much safety paraphernalia. We had social media, but we were able to do something without posting about every single meal we ate. We had color TV, but we were still kicked out of the house to play once cartoons were done. I think you get the point.

                Do I think my generation is the greatest generation? Hell no. Do I think any other previous generation was the greatest? Maybe, I guess. But do I think that my daughter’s generation has the potential to be the real greatest generation? You bet your sweet ass I do! I sincerely hope that her generation can fix all of the shit that we’ve broken over the years. I want them to not be able to imagine a time when people blew each other up over stupid shit. I want them to not be able to imagine a time when people died of common diseases. I want them to be able to not imagine a time when anything they could imagine could become a reality. But will I bitch about how easy they have it when that time comes? Again the answer is you bet your sweet ass. These freakin’ kids better get the hell off of my lawn and start listening to better music!

                As usual…a sincere prost/cheers to all of you that have taken the time to read this. Just for the record, if you are reading this then you are also a pussy generation since you are accessing the internet and you have enough disposable income to own a computer…yeah…I said it. Pussy! Here’s to hoping that Elizabeth can fix all of the world’s woes…might be a lot to put on a 6 week old, but I think she can do it. Cheers!

Memorial Day and the Ghost of Fatterhood Future

Howdy y’all,

                I will keep this one short and sweet. I have always considered myself a pacifist (i.e. coward), but I have never lost an appreciation for those that have fought and died for me to be a raging wussy. This Memorial day weekend I was able to spend the entire time with my in-laws. 8 adults and 3 children in a 1 bedroom cabin…yeah.

My brother-in-law left his #1 Dad Hat at the cabin.
"There can be only only one", so I must take
on the mantle!

                Anyways, we managed to have our longest trip thus far with Elizabeth. It was supposed to be about a 3.5 hour drive up to the cabin and it became about 4.5 hour drive with a stop for nursing. She actually did quite well. There was an insane amount of napping from the little Ewok. It was a very nice dry run for some of our longer trips that we have planned for the summer. Da Butt earned herself yet another nickname from our little niece who had a lot of trouble pronouncing Elizabeth’s name, so she is now know as A Little Bit! I won’t lie, it was super freaking cute. Our niece was just sooooo fascinated with Elizabeth. She constantly was giving us updates on Elizabeth’s condition. “Baby crying!” was said many times. My personal favorite was our niece yelling at the top of her lungs “SHUSH! BABY SLEEPING!”. Well, she had been at least.

But I did get a glimpse at the Ghost of Fatterhood Future while spending the weekend with a 2 and a 4 year old. I heard several things over the weekend with my nieces that I never thought adults would ever have to say. For instance…

“Stop licking the window!”

“Why is she wearing her socks on her hands?”

“She used the potty, give her a marshmallow.”

“Don’t eat the minnow!”

“Stop hitting her head!”

“Stop hitting your head!”

Man, maybe the infant stage is the easiest stage… dear lord. I will be updating a little later with some photos from the weekend as well. Cheers!

I was a teenage feminist...

I was blessed while growing up to be raised by an amazingly strong and independent woman. My mother also had a tendency to surround herself with amazingly strong independent women as well. Not to get too Freudian on everyone, but a friend of mine made a compelling argument for the women in my life being the basis for my love of science fiction. No other genre has soooo many strong female characters. Sci-fi gave us Princess Leia, Rey, Dr. River Song, Amy Pond, Rose Tyler, Mara Jade, Ripley, Newt, I really could go on and on all day. I am quite thankful for all of this though. I never grew up with the Norman Rockwell version of gender stereotypes and I don't intend to let my daughter either. As a matter of fact I will be starting on her first set of Mando Armor in the next few weeks! My Liz'ika (Star Wars language for Little Liz) will be kicking ass along side her Daddy and nerding out.

Even though I am confident that I will raise a strong little lady, I can't help but still be protective. If you have a boy then you only have to worry about 1 penis. If you have a little girl then I have to worry about all of the penises! A friend of ours was recently assaulted while walking to her car, the thought of that ever happening to Elizabeth sets my freaking teeth on edge. Hell, a pregnant friend of ours was holding Elizabeth and her unborn son started kicking Elizabeth. Now I am not saying that I would ever punch a pregnant lady, but my protective instincts kicked in just from that harmless interaction! Got help her first boyfriend.

An unintended consiquence of have a daughter is that boobs are now ruined for me. I won't lie, before if I saw a good looking lady I would look. I'm married, not dead. Now, I see a good looking woman and all I can think of is that she is someone's mother or daughter and those boobs on her chest were not put there for decoration. They serve a purpose. I got highly bummed out while driving home from work earlier this week. On my way home there is a titty bar. I refuse to call them gentleman's clubs because guys don't dress up in suits and top-hats and discuss politics while sipping scotch in these places. Normally I prefer the phrase "strip club", but I think after my description of this place you will see that the best name for it is a titty bar. Anyways, this place is in the middle of nowhere. The building is actually 2 double wide trailers pushed together and out front is a sign that has the name of the "club" and also read "2 for 1 lap dances! Look for the coupon in the Penny Saver!". Now do you see why this place is a titty bar? Back to my point, all I could think of is what happens if Elizabeth ever winds up dancing like the girls and this place? I doubt she would, but still. After pondering all of this for a while I ended up just getting really angry when I realized my freaking daughter had ruined strip clubs and strange boobs for me! She isn't even 2 months old and already my Fatterhood experiment is a failure!

Don't want anyone getting the wrong idea by the way, I never have frequented strip clubs (or ogled pretty ladies for that matter) a lot. I have always found them to be kind of gross and depressing places. But every now and again (and of course with my wife's permission) it was kind of fun to go to one for special occasions. But somehow, this damn kid managed to ruin boobs...I'm not even mad, I'm impressed. But I swear if she doesn't stop making eye contacting with me while nursing with my wife...I might end up losing my shit.

I will be posting another post when we get back from the cabin on Monday. In the meantime, I hope everyone has a great weekend and everyone is safe. I will be soaking up the sun while drinking beer and smoking cigars...in true Fatterhood style! But not looking at boobs...Cheers!

Harry Caray and the Machine Gun Shits

Sorry for the absence folks. Long week and it isn't looking any shorter yet. Anyways, I figured I would do a quick little post about some of Elizabeth's newest adventures this week.

Earlier this week I awoke to the sound of my daughter's machine gun farts. I thought she was still sleeping so I slinked over to her crib just to watch her for a while before I had to get ready for work. Little did I know that she was wide awake. As soon as she saw me she made the creepy direct eye contact and I knew it was more than farts. I really need to get a picture of the look on her face. It is pure determined concentration. I am confident that if I concentrated on anything in my life as much as my daughter concentrates on pushing a turd out, that I probably would become ruler of the world. Anyways, after listening/watching for about a full 3 minutes, I did what any good father would do, which is I woke my wife up and said "I think she needs to be changed and I am running late for work." No I wasnt. I did get to see the aftermath of those machine gun farts and my god! It looked like New Orleans after Katrina. Just chaos. I couldn't help but think "how the hell does someone that small make that much poop?!". Then today I had McDonald's for breakfast and for supper...guess I got my answer...

We have also started "tummy time". The Ewok seems to be really hit or miss with it. Sometimes she loves it and other times we might as well be dribbling her like a basketball. But I can't stop laughing when she does manage to pick her big old noggin up. She sways back and forth with it and many times slams it back down on the mat. All I can think of is Harry Caray. With her hair all messed up and her head swaying I would give anything to hear her say "If you were a boob, would you nurse yourself? I know I would. Cubs win!". I would take vido of it, but I know I wouldn't be able to stop laughing long enough to keep the camera still.

I have 2 other posts that are in the draft stage that I will publish later this week yet. I have decided that even though I don't get enough views on this page for me to quit and go pro, I am having a blast doing it and embarrassing my daughter on the world wide web. I am pretty sure she will thank me for it someday. As always...Cheers!