Shout! Shout! Shout at the Ewok!

Howdy gang,

                Man oh man has it been a crazy few weeks! Super busy, but pretty damn good overall. The 22^nd was my wife’s 28^th birthday. She worked of course, but I took off from work so Elizabeth and I could pamper her a little bit. Elizabeth got her Mama the new Garth Brooks box set which we have sadly been listening to non-stop in the car. That will go down as one of my most regrettable purchases I think. Anyways, I picked up Ewok early from daycare so that her and I could get some extra snuggle time in before Mama got home. Once she got home I let those two do their thing while I made dinner. As it turns out, cooking for someone that is gluten and dairy free is a giant pain in the ass. I’ve never had a whole lot hiding out in the Fat-dad Cookbook, so I did my trusty stand by and made tacos. My wife was just happy because she got to get a little extra snuggle time in herself AND she didn’t have to cook. My wife even got a backrub once Elizabeth finally went to bed! I know. I know. I’m pretty much the best husband and father that has ever lived.

                Elizabeth is growing like a damn weed! Seriously. I can’t stop looking through the pictures of her on my phone and it is simply amazing how fast she has grown. She now has 5 teeth, she is eating non-boob food regularly, she has become much more vocal, and is SOOOOOOO close to crawling. She is so close to crawling that it is almost painful to watch. She has all of the parts down, she just can’t seem to put them together in order to actually crawl. She lifts her whole body up in some sort of a mix between a plank and push up, but instead of moving her legs to get forward movement, she ends up scooting herself back. The fact that she can’t seem to figure out the crawling thing doesn’t really slow her down at all though. She figured out about 2 weeks ago how to efficiently navigate her surrounding by rolling to where ever she wants to go. It really is quite the sight to behold. She is some sort of toy-seeking missile too. She still loves her Sophie, but she now also loves to knock down her stacking cups and she insists on emptying her ENTIRE toy basket. She has such an intense determination when she makes eye contact with that toy basket, it seems to scream “What the hell?! I JUST emptied that freakin’ basket!”

                Like I mentioned, she has become much more vocal over that last 2 weeks. She used to jibber jabber from time to time, but now… this kid won’t shut the hell up! It is damn near constant yelling and general noise making. She seems to have 2 real favorite times to do it though. 1^st favorite is to simply keep herself awake whenever she is getting sleepy, which has turned our nighttime routine in to a rather noisy affair. Her 2^nd favorite time is at strangers in public. I am not exaggerating either. We will be strolling as a family through Target and she will pick out some rando, make eye contact with them, cock a half smile and then just start yelling nonsense at them at the top of her lungs. I will attempt to write an example of her jibber jabber phonetically so that you can get the full picture. “AAAAHHHHahahahahahAAAAAAAHHHHHbabababababaBABABABAHahhhhDDDDDDDDDDDAAAAAADADADAda!” It is annoying and cute all at the same time.

                We, as a family unit, are very glad that teething seems to be getting a little easier and it seems like there might be a light at the end of the tunnel. Her big, goofy ass, jack-o-lantern smile still melts me every time she flashes it at me. It was so hard to see her in pain, especially when she is normally so happy-go-lucky. Even though she has 3 teeth all coming in at the same time, she seems to be doing much better with it this time around. It is pretty easy to get her to smile and giggle as she seems to think everything is freakin’ hilarious. I had to take her to the doctor this last Monday for the 2^nd part of her flu shot. They had the whole office decked out for Christmas, so we had a lot of fun looking at the lights on the tree, but the fun really began when we noticed the shiny balls hanging from the ceiling. I would lift her up so she could swat at them and I thought she was going to die of laughter. She refused to give up either, we seriously played with them for about 10 or 15 minutes before we were called in to the exam room. The laughter quickly died once she got the shot of course, but she only cried for about 15 seconds and then she started giggling for ABSOLUTELY NO REASON! She then reached out for the nurse and gave her a little snuggle hug and went back to her normal goofball self. The nurse mentioned that that was the 1^st time in her entire career that any patient had reached out for a hug after a shot. That’s my girl I guess.

                As per usual, we ended up having 2 Thanksgiving get-togethers again this year. The whole fam damily got together at my in-laws house for lunch and Elizabeth had lots of fun playing with her 2 cousins and her Papa and her Aunts and Uncles. She is just totally enthralled with her youngest cousin. We will call her Eva. Eva is the goofy one of my two nieces. Her older sister is a little more reserved and can even be shy, but not Eva. She is always moving, always doing something goofy, always doing something kind of weird, but always is adorable. She is infamous in our family for licking a window and for her favorite game called “sock hands”. Sock hands is really just what we call her insistence on wearing her sock on her hands instead of her feet. Now that I just typed all of that, I can totally see why Elizabeth is so interested in her cousin. Hmmm. Anyways, we also went to my cousins’ house for dinner and because it was our God Son’s birthday. He turned 7 this year! That just made me feel old as all hell. He is just such a fun and generally good kid.

                I guess we had a pretty eventful couple of weeks! I am out of town tonight for work and won’t be home until 1030 at the earliest so I probably won’t actually get to see Elizabeth until Friday afternoon if I don’t get called in to work. I was kind of “over it” when it came to work hotel stays about 5 years ago, but now that I got my little snuggle buddy at home and she is growing and learning so fast, I hate to miss any second that I don’t absolutely have to. Grrr. Anyways, as usual, I thank you all for reading. Don’t forget to check out Fatterhood on Facebook, I will be posting some of the holiday family pictures that we took and you WON’T want to miss em. Check back soon for more posts or use this time to catch up on some older posts! I hope you all had a great Thanksgiving as well! Until next time…Prost!

What kind of man does that make me?

Howdy gang,

                As I said in “Grab the Kleenex Y’all” I had been planning on doing one more post about my mother. My original plan had been to get super loaded on November 12^th and write a post. I have had a 2 year tradition of getting crazy ass drunk on the anniversary of Ma’s death, but this year a unique opportunity presented itself and I decided to take it. My best friend Thad Dickson was in town for his cousin’s wedding, but sadly his awesome girlfriend couldn’t make it so he asked me to be his plus one. Since we come from a small town it wasn’t as awkward as it might seem to most, I went to high school with the bride and her sister, her mom works at the bank that I used to use, and being close to Thad’s family we just knew each other anyways. It was quite the departure from my normal tradition of drinking alone with my Ma’s urn and wallowing in my own pity party. I ended up still drinking, but while dancing, singing, and laughing with friends. I decided that this may have to become my new tradition by the way.

                The wedding was fantastic of course, the bride looked wonderful, the ceremony and reception were very classy, I got to hang out with my best friend and his sister for a day, and I got to catch up with a friend I hadn’t seen in probably 10 years. The festivities were a little tainted though by the loss of the family patriarch Archie.  He passed away the Monday before the wedding at the ripe old age of 87. Being close to the family, it was like a loss in my own family. It was an amazing mix of sadness, remembrance, respect, joy, family, and love. As awful as I am sure the loss is for the family, it was truly a sight to behold from an outsider’s perspective. I hate to sound selfish, but it is totally the environment that I needed to be in at the time. The funeral is on Tuesday and I plan on being attendance, possibly with Elizabeth depending on my wife’s work schedule.

                It also made me get very introspective about the loss of my mother. She truly had such an indescribable impact on me and ultimately on Elizabeth. I am reminded of an amazing quote by the 7 year old daughter of comedian Patton Oswalt after the untimely death of her mother. She said, “When your mom dies you’re the best memory of her. Everything you do is a memory of her”. I shouldn’t really surprise me that something so meaningful, simple, touching and elegant should come out of the mouth of a child. She put in to words the very idea that I should have came across myself. Elizabeth is the continuation of my mother’s legacy. My wife is a continuation of that legacy. My job is a continuation of that legacy. Everything I have ever done or will do, is a testament to her as a mother and as a human being. That may seem a wee bit narcissistic, but I don’t mean it to sound as everything I have done or will do is amazing, but rather that all of my successes are her successes. And even with my failures, I know that her unconditional love would mean that she would still support me.

                I don’t think I had mentioned in any previous posts that on October 3^rd every year I shave my head in memory of Ma on the anniversary of her diagnosis. She had lost her hair during the chemotherapy and I shaved my own in head so that she wouldn’t feel so self-conscious. Side note: in case you were wondering what constitutes “best friend” material in my book, Thad actually shaved his head as well. On November 12^th I let it grow out again as a sort of symbol of life carrying on, so to speak.  I actually picked up Elizabeth at daycare the afternoon after I shaved my head, she had not seen me yet and I couldn’t help but laugh at her reaction. I swear to god that she looked at me and raised an eyebrow until I said “Hi Sweetpea!” and then she cracked a smile once she realized who I was. For the last month she enjoyed playing with my bald head, but now that it is time for it to grow out again she still seems to enjoy feeling my hair as it is growing back.  My kiddo is just such a happy-go-lucky little turd that I am always in awe of her. We somehow lucked out as parents and ended up with such a great kid. I am kind of worried about when the other shoe will drop and we will end up with a total shithead. She has her shithead moments of course, but seriously she is so great.

                I am a full bottle of wine in right now and I fear that I have derailed a little. I don’t want to bum anyone out at all as this is supposed to be a humorous blog, but there is a song that reminds me so much of what my wife and I went through during Ma’s illness that after 3 years I still can’t listen to it without crying. If you are interested, it is called Dismantling Summer by The Wonder Years. The line that gets me the most is “If I’m in an airport and you’re in a hospital bed, well then what kind of man does that make me? I’ve been acting like I’m strong, but the truth is I’ve been losing ground.” Like I said in my previous post, I had to work in order to pay the bills even though every fiber of my being wanted to be by her side while she was in the hospital. In order to get through my day, I had to lie to myself and say that it was fine.

 As much as those thoughts eat me up, it really hits on the biggest parent lesson that I learned from Ma. Parenting is sacrifice. I had to act strong just to get through my day so I could pay the bills. When my wife and I had to bear through marriage classes, we were tasked with bringing in an item that represented family to us. I brought in a Mickey Mouse dressed up as Santa toy that has become a x-mas decoration staple at our house. I explained to the group the history behind the item. When I was little and Dad left, money was super tight, but Ma didn’t want me to go without Christmas. Seems dumb, but she was not one for taking “handouts”, she was far too independent and bullheaded for such things, but she put her own pride aside to make sure that I had something to unwrap at Christmas, so that particular item actually came from Toys For Tots. I didn’t know that story until I was much older of course, but that one item really solidified what parenting is…sacrifice. I never have to worry about my own needs. I don’t even really have to worry about my wife’s needs. I have one focus only and that is my daughter. If that means I go without sleep, food, luxury items, then so be it. As long as she is safe, happy, and healthy then it is all worth it.

I have more to say, but I feel this may be a great stopping point. As usual, thank you so much for reading. It is a little late, but if you would please join me in having an adult beverage at your earliest convenience in her honor. I hope to have another post or two up this week, but we can all see how well my intentions have worked out so far. Prost!

Down With the Sickness

Howdy gang,

                Man, I just can’t believe how time seems to slip away from me. It has been a busy and eventful week and a half, so I guess I better just hop in to it. Eh?

                Two weekends ago, Elizabeth was pretty sick as I covered in “The Power of Ewok Compels You”. I never really gave the ending to that story though. We didn’t end up going to the wedding that weekend; we chilled at home since Ewok was still not at 100%. She had shown some serious improvement by Saturday, but we are glad we stayed home since it kind of hit round 2 Saturday evening. By about 11PM that night, my wife and I started to get worried about dehydration. She was pale, she hadn’t peed in several hours and hadn’t pooped since Friday afternoon. We made the call to take her to Urgent Care right away on Sunday morning. We were pretty much the first ones there and were seen right away this time. The staff were totally amazing! I really can’t emphasize that enough. They immediately guessed that we were first time parents and did their best to calm our fears. Almost as soon as we got in to the exam room she had a massive piss (or “pee butt” as we call them”) which kind of made us feel dumb. The nurse and the doc looked her over and said that she had some very slight signs of dehydration, but that we were doing everything right and it looked like she was over the hump. It was such a weird place to be in as a parent. We didn’t want to be “those” parents that worry about every sniffle, but we had started to get very worried by Saturday night. We left feeling a little stupid, but the staff made us feel great for doing everything we could and not totally waiting it out either. The doctor also told us we had to have at least 10 babies since Elizabeth was so cute.

                By Sunday afternoon she seemed to be feeling much better. She took a massive shit. And I do mean massive! It was so big and forceful (remember she hadn’t pooped for about a full 48 hours) that it obviously was a chore for her to push it out. I had a dad-fail when I went to change it and I ended up gagging myself and throwing up. A lot of my friends, family and coworkers gave me shit (no pun intended) but I feel like I need to explain the actual situation before you can judge. Remember, I had hardly slept for about 4 days, wasn’t eating right, and this was no ordinary poop. This was the type of poop that I would have if I had only eaten the poops of hobos that had exclusively eaten skunk asses. And there was soooooo much of it! It just kept coming! It ended up being a 3 diaper poop once everything was said and done. The good news though, was by Sunday afternoon and after her massive adult sized dump, she was feeling about 95% better. She went back to daycare on Monday and did really well. The daycare teachers had told us that she was more fussy than normal, but that it was easily solved by being held. “Easily solved by being held” is a relative term though I realize, as when there are 2 teachers for 8+ infants, they simply don’t have enough hands. I even apologized to the teachers since her need to be held was TOTALLY my bad. While she was sick we took a lot of naps in my recliner and I kind of let her get away with murder for 4.5 days. Dad-fail number 2 I guess.

                Everything seemed right as rain until last Thursday when we got a phone call from daycare saying that Elizabeth had a high fever. Due to a work commitment, my wife couldn’t call in so I had to. “Had to” is a very loose term by the way, I had an incredibly shitty day on Wednesday at work so being able to spend the day with my daughter while napping and watching The Office really wasn’t much of a punishment. By 9am when I picked her up, her fever had peaked at 103.4F! I could tell immediately that she wasn’t feeling good. She was fussy, she was pale, and she was super snuggly. We got home and had some Tylenol, ate and took a insane 2.5 hour nap. By the time she woke up her fever was already down to 99F. My wife was texting me all day for updates and she gave me the unique challenge of taking a rectal temperature. I had never taken one and I had to look up the directions. As it turned out though, saying that Ewok was uncooperative would be the biggest understatement of the century. I found a different thermometer that allowed for an armpit temp and it was down to 98F. By early afternoon, she was hungry, she was playing, she was smiling, and she was giggling. I had been pretty confident from the beginning that the fever was just from teething and by Friday morning we saw a tooth starting. Daycare still wouldn’t let us bring her in until 24 hours had passed from the fever breaking. “Luckily”, my wife was able to stay home this time and took her to daycare later that morning.

                We had a house guest for a good chunk of this last weekend as well, my best friend Thad Dickson was home from Boston for a family wedding, I will have more about that in an upcoming post, but Elizabeth loved playing with Uncle Thad! It took her a while to warm up to him, but once she did it was constant smiles and giggles. Seriously, he might be her new favorite toy. There are a few pictures up on the Fatterhood Facebook page if you are interested. Long story short, we are seriously planning a trip out to Boston sometime in the spring or summer to go see him and his wonderful girlfriend. He kept bringing up how much and how fast she has changed since he last saw her and it has had bee looking through pictures on my phone. My god is he right?! She used to be a scrunched face little peanut and now she is actually looking and acting like a little human!

                All and all I am super glad that she is feeling better. The whole experience totally dicked her sleeping schedule, but she is back to her old happy-go-lucky self. Teething still blows though. As per usual, thank you all for reading and check out Fatterhood on Facebook. Another post will be coming shortly (for real this time), but don’t be afraid to catch up on older posts as well. Prost!

The Power of Ewok Compels You!

Howdy gang,

                Man how the time flies yet again. I shan’t lie, I am almost a full pint of Bully Boy vodka down (more on why in a little while) and I am ready to do some fat-dadding!

 It has been a rather eventful week since my last post. Last Saturday we went to a Halloween party that our friends were hosting. We ended up almost having a pretty good 1^st time parenting fail when we realized that we never asked if it was ok if we brought Elizabeth with us. The thought had never even crossed our minds until someone asked who we found to babysit. The very thought that a group of twenty-thirty something-year-olds wouldn’t enjoy the presence of our darling child never occurred to us. We lucked out as everyone seemed really excited when I asked via the Facebook group if she could attend. Halloween is easily my favorite holiday; candy, horror movies, dressing up, etc. My wife on the other hand is apparently indifferent towards it, so we ended up with what I still consider a ludicrous family costume budget. To fit in her damn guidelines (seriously, $300 is “too expensive” for a Ghostbusters themed family costume? WTF?!) we opted to be Popeye, Olive Oil, and Sweet Pea for a grand total of about $20. We looked cute and we had a blast at the part. I will post a picture of the 3 of us on the Fatterhood Facebook page soon by the way. Elizabeth was well behaved, but stayed out way past her bed time so she ended up being kind of a crank for most of the weekend.

                I was deadest on taking Elizabeth trick-or-treating on Halloween. I went so far as to take off work just so I could guarantee that I would actually be home to do so. I found myself in kind of an awkward spot though. You see, you can’t really go door to door with a small child asking for candy when you look like me. Even on a good day I have a tendency to look semi-homeless, but currently with my shaved head I knew it would look like I had kidnapped Elizabeth. I was severely self-conscious about the whole thing. I put out a Facebook message looking to tagalong with any of my friends or family that have kids to bring down my creeper factor and my cousin offered to let me join in. She and her husband recently joined the parenting cabal as well and they wanted to take out their little one too. She was freakin’ adorable by the way, she was born a wee bit early so she is still very tiny, but dressed up like Stitch from Lilo and Stitch she was just too cute to handle. We made the circle around my Aunt’s house which is kind of a swanky neighborhood, the kind that hands out full sized candy bars. Elizabeth ended up falling asleep on my shoulder about 3 houses down from my Aunt’s house. Not sure if going with my cousin helped the perception at all, but it did make me feel better.

                After trick-or-treating Elizabeth and I (my wife had to work by the way) stopped by my wife’s parents’ house. Grandma was still at work, but Papa wanted to see his little granddaughter. He took it upon himself to introduce Elizabeth to her first piece of candy since it was Halloween and all kids “need” candy. I figured my wife would go ape shit, so we kind of compromised and he found some sugar free suckers to let her gum on. She loved it…of course. There is a great picture of it up on the Fatterhood Facebook page. We made our way home and my little Ewok was totally tuckered out.

                The Wednesday night after Halloween Elizabeth just wasn’t herself. She seemed tired and cranky. Daycare had said that she seemed “off” as well, but that she had been over-all pretty good all day. We were sitting around having our family time and I was packing my overnight bag since I was supposed to be out for work Thursday night when all of a sudden she had a pretty intense coughing attack and started puking. And I mean REALLY puking. This was beyond spit up. I said that she looked like she was auditioning for The Exorcist and told my wife to hide any crucifixes that were in the house. She did that a few more times yet Wednesday evening. After looking at our calendars, we decided that I should call in since my wife had a very important review due at work and since she had called in the last time Ewok was sick it was kind of my turn. I stayed up all night with her since she seemed to cough less when one of us was holding her for some reason. We kept her out of daycare of course, and the two of us just kind of chilled on my recliner most of the day. She seemed to be feeling quite a bit better by Thursday afternoon, but was still coughing and was still throwing up occasionally. We called the Doctor and he said that there really wasn’t much to worry about unless she had a fever (which she didn’t) or unless she was showing signs of dehydration. By the time my wife arrived home Thursday it seemed like we were out of the woods, but then the puke started up again.

                I had called in for Friday as well, so I pulled another all nighter and stayed up with Ewok again. To be totally fair to my wife, I am a night owl by nature and I could have tried to sleep but I am a notoriously hard sleeper and I was terrified that I wouldn’t hear her cough and that she would aspirate her vomit in the night. My wife woke up Friday morning and found that she too was super sick. I won’t go in to details as she wouldn’t be very happy if I did, but let’s just say that I found myself on Ewok duty and Mama duty for all of Friday. Which brings me to the pint of vodka. My wife still feels like shit and went to bed at around 830. Elizabeth seems to be doing MUCH better since this afternoon, she has been playing and laughing most of the day and the cough has become less intense. I moved her pack-n’-play out to the living room so that I can watch her and let my wife get some much needed rest. This has left me though with a combined total of about 8-12 hours of sleep out of the last 60 and I have burned through my Netflix queue. I made the decision to start mixing vodka with Kickstarts (no lecture needed, again, we have already established that I don’t make great health decisions) and having a movie marathon. I made my way through the Saw movies and am currently plugging through the Underworld movies. Ewok is sound asleep right next to me and oddly enough…I don’t think there is any other place I would rather be.

                We were supposed to go to a wedding in Madison on Saturday, but seeing as how I am the only “healthy” one in this house and I haven’t really slept since Wednesday I don’t think we will be making it. I will see what happens tomorrow, but my hope is that my wife will be feeling better so that I can catch up on some sleep and then write another post tomorrow. If not, then I will perhaps be in some sort of coma-like hibernation for the weekend. Either way…I thank you for reading. As always, check back soon and don’t forget to like Fatterhood on Facebook.  I really don’t know how to thank you all for sticking with me so far. 6000 views in 20 countries and still growing. I know there are more popular blogs out there, but I would never have dreamed in a million years that mine would be even mildly successful. I really do thank you! Prost!

Grab the kleenex y'all

Howdy gang,

                I have been working on this post for almost a month now. I had initially intended on posting it on October 3^rd, but it wasn’t quite ready at the time. I kicked around the idea of just holding on to it until mid November (for reasons that will become clear by the end of this post), but it has been kicking around in my brain and on my computer and I think now is really as good of a time as any I guess. All of this being said, you will quickly find that this is not my typical Fatterhood post. There won’t be much for humor this time, but I won’t lie to you…I am really putting my heart out for the entire Internet to see. There are parts of this story that only my wife and a handful of extremely close friends know; but seeing as it is a part of my history, it is now a part of Elizabeth’s. At heart I have always envisioned Fatterhood as an extremely long letter to Elizabeth. So…here I go and I hope you stick with me and enjoy the ride.

                On October 3^rd 2013, I got a call while I was at work from my Uncle/Godfather telling me that he and my Aunt had taken my Ma to the hospital due to unexplained profuse bleeding. I immediately asked if everything was okay and he said that there really wasn’t anything that I could do at that moment anyways. She was having some tests done and that the doctors had a few ideas, but that it didn’t sound like too much to worry about. Of course I worried. I finished out my shift at the Crimson Plus Sign and bolted to the hospital. She was resting comfortably in her room, talking and joking around with my Aunt and Uncle. There still weren’t any test results to be had, but they did start to give her a platelet transfusion that afternoon. We all sat and talked and eventually my Aunt and Uncle left to go home. My wife left work early too and met Ma and I at the hospital, but in true Ma fashion, she wanted us to go home since there wasn’t anything to do but wait anyways. I made her promise to call me as soon as she heard anything and my wife and I went home.

                Around 7pm that evening Ma called my cell and told me that the results were in and that she most likely had some form of leukemia. I knew immediately that no matter what she said that she was terrified because her 1^st fiancé had died of leukemia.  Not knowing what to say at such a moment, my caveman brain could only come up with, “Are you shitting me?”. He simply replied “No.” I asked what the game plan was, what she need from us, who was watching the dog, did she want me to come back to the hospital? I essentially asked ALL of the questions. My wife and I lived only a few miles from the hospital at that time so we raced back over to be with her while we figured stuff out. By the time we got there we found out that there was already a plan to send her to Mayo in Rochester Minnesota. If you aren’t from our neck of the woods, Mayo hospital in Rochester is world renowned for its medical care, the Pope had been seen there at one time and even Mr. Burns from The Simpsons went there, but you don’t go there for a cold. If you go to Mayo it means it is serious. They transported her there late that night and my wife and I went home and started working on our own game plan.

                The next day we set up a meeting with her new Doctor at Mayo in the late afternoon. Again, Ma didn’t want us “making a fuss over her” so she told us to stay home. I made the terrible choice of going to work instead of staying home. I figured at the time that I might as well keep my mind and hands busy instead of just pacing our apartment worrying, but since I was so distracted I was next to worthless at work. I couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn when it came to sticking needles in people. I was a wreck. My boss ended up sending me home early once I filled her in on what was going on. My wife and I packed up and hit the road to Rochester, that would end up being the 1^st of many, many, many trips.

                We got to Mayo and chatted with Ma for a bit before we met with the doctor. She seemed to be doing as well as one could expect given the situation. When the doctor came in he told us that they were 98% sure they knew what Ma had, which was Burkitt’s Lymphoma. Burkitt’s is a very rare but very fast moving disease that usually strikes children, but can affect adults. The doctor laid out his prognosis and treatment plan, it was then that he warned us that due to my mother’s age that treatment was about 50/50 and that if chemo was going to go bad that it was going to go bad very quickly, but if left untreated that she would also die sooner rather than later. He was still quite confident that the treatment would work, but that we should be aware of the risks and know what are different options were. He asked the 3 of us how we wanted to proceed. We looked at each other; Ma let out a big sigh and said, “Well, it doesn’t sound like have that many options now do we? Sign me up for the chemo.”

                The next month was just a blur. My wife and I were taking turns driving down throughout the week to visit her and then going down together on the weekends. I would have loved to take time off work just to be with her, but both my wife and I had to bring home the bacon so we could pay Ma’s bills. Not her medical bills of course, but she didn’t have any money coming in so we had to pay for the heat, electricity, home loan, etc. I became her power of medical so was fielding phone calls while at work dealing with donors. My wife was working round the clock filling out paperwork for medical assistance, disability, etc. We were exhausted, but Ma had been doing really well with her chemo. After a few weeks she got released to our care so she could stay at our apartment for a few days to help save on the cost of the hospital room. It was while she was home with us for those few days that she started to take a turn. She was tired, couldn’t eat, had terrible sores on her mouth, and her hair started to fall out. While she was home with us she had a follow-up doctor’s visit and one of her blood cultures came back with a bacterial infection. She was readmitted almost immediately as even a minor infection is deadly during chemo. That was pretty much the beginning of the end.

                I was cleaning at Ma’s house getting it ready for her eventual return when I got a call saying that Ma had a lung infection and was starting to have fluid buildup around her lungs so they needed my permission to put her on a ventilator. What else could I say but yes? My wife and I bolted down as soon as we could to see her and by the time we got down there she seemed to be doing at least a little better. She was off the ventilator and was breathing on her own again as the infection seemed to be fading. After 3 years I truly don’t remember what she said any more that pissed me off so bad, but she said something to me that I just wasn’t in the mood for. My wife and I had been busting ass and doing the best we could and it just wasn’t enough. I blew up at her and went out to the visitor’s room to grab some coffee and cool off. I came back and we said our goodbyes as everyone was just tired and drained emotionally/physically/mentally. I don’t recall if either of us ever said sorry or even if we said “I love you” since I inherited my bullheadedness from my mother. If only I had known that that would be the last time that we would be able to speak to each other…

                A short few days later I get a call saying that Ma’s infection had done some serious damage. I will spare you the details, but they were going to have to put her back on a ventilator and that she had taken a rather sharp turn for the worst. I was on a 3 day out-rotation at work and just happened to be close to the hospital so as soon as I was done at work I sprinted to the hospital. She really had taken a terrible turn. She was on the ventilator; she had slipped into what was essentially a coma, and was just genuinely a pitiful sight to behold. She continued to decline to the point that her organs weren’t pumping blood like they should so they put her on an ECMO machine which is a heart and lung bypass, this machine was breathing and pumping her blood for her. After a few days of the ECMO treatment, her team of doctors asked to meet with my wife and I to discuss prognosis and options. We were told that after 2 more days on ECMO if there wasn’t any improvement that there really would be no hope of improvement. They told us that due to her illness that organ transplants would be out of the question and that unless she made a miraculous recovery in those next 2 days, that they wouldn’t be able to continue the chemo treatment.

My wife took that as essentially a death sentence and was crushed. I had asked about a best case scenario. What would happen if we took her off everything? They said best case scenario is that we would have to leave her on a ventilator, that she would have minimal brain damage from the coma, but would be dead within a month since we couldn’t continue the chemo. After asking a few more questions I found out that their “best case scenario” meant that my mother would be fully aware of everything that was happening to her, but wouldn’t be able to talk or possibly communicate at all with us; that she would fully aware that she was dying in agony. As difficult as the decision was to make as a son that didn’t want to have his mother leave him, it was easy as a son that didn’t want his Ma to be in any more pain than she had to be. I had the opportunity while spending nights in the hospital with her to have some great conversations with Ma and she had made me promise to not let her become a vegetable. This of course was different as she was not vegetative, but it seemed even worse.

On November 13^th 2013, my wife and I ultimately made the decision to take her off the ventilator. My wife, uncle, aunt and myself were all at her bedside when she went and we were assured that due to the meds that gave her that she felt little to no pain at all. I don’t want to bum anyone out any more here, but when they show this type of scene in the movies it isn’t even close to how it plays out in real life. In the movies they “pull the plug” and the patient takes one last deep breath, closes their eyes, and exhales that last time and they are gone. In real life, once the ventilator is turned off you essentially suffocate. Your body struggles to find air and it is painful to watch. Of course I am not happy with how it turned out, but given what the alternative was, I would make the decision all over again.

We had Ma cremated and we did a celebration of life service in my hometown. I spent the whole thing drunk off my ass and biting my tongue at family and friends that I simply didn’t have the patience for. That being said, I did get to hear some amazing stories about Ma that I had never heard before, so not all of it was bad I guess. Throughout this whole ordeal I can’t stress enough how awesome my wife was. She was the rock that Ma and I clung to. Ma was scared and I was usually transitioning between drunk and hungover at any given point when I was off from work. She really held the whole thing together. We also received so much love and support from so many different people that I would have to start a whole other blog just to cover them all. Seriously, friends, family, neighbors, coworkers, the docs and nurses at the hospitals, and even total strangers all came out of the woodwork to help us. We got phone calls, texts, gift cards, gas cards, cards, emails, handwritten notes, pep talks, you name it and we got it. In the darkest of times the generosity of so many people went a long way in bringing some light into our world.

I seriously have enough stories about Ma to start a “Shit My Ma Said” blog. She taught me so much and set the bar for me personally as to what a parent should be. She gave be unconditional love and support mixed with a swift kick to the ass when needed. She was a tough woman that was strong her entire life that was what made the end of her life so hard to witness. Now, since I have thoroughly bummed you all out I think I should pull out one last story that shows the type of humor that my mother and I shared. When we were making her funeral arrangements the assistant funeral director (whom I have known most of my life, was in my cousin’s wedding and serves with my other cousin on the fire department…small town) asked how we would like her remains to be transported from Minnesota to our hometown in Wisconsin. I didn’t know how to answer. He explained that for a reasonable fee that one of the funeral home staff could drive to get her ashes in Minnesota and return them to Wisconsin or they could be mailed. I couldn’t help myself and I busted out laughing and between my guffaws and exclaimed “Mail her! Dear god yes! Mail her!” and I think he thought that I was just grieving. He explained some people aren’t comfortable with their loved ones going through the mail like that. I explained to him that the thought of Ma taking one last ride through the United States Postal Service and being delivered by our mailman of 20+ years was just too damn funny and Ma would have found it hysterical. The whole thing was so absurd that I just couldn’t contain myself.

I plan on doing one more Ma related post on November 13^th that I promise won’t be such a bummer. As always, I thank you all for reading and letting me get this out in to the open. Learn from my mistakes and make sure that you always tell the people in your life that are important to you that you love them. Check back soon for my glorious return to humor. Prost!

A Rose by any other name...

Howdy gang,

                Lately I have been getting a lot of questions about what we are going to actually call Elizabeth. I had mentioned in an earlier post that it has become a pretty big area of contention in our home. A commenter even suggested doing poll on the blog, which isn’t a bad idea by any means, but that person doesn’t know how bullheaded my wife or I can truly be. Let me lay it out there for you gang, Elizabeth Rose was named after my mother and grandmother for her first name. The middle name Rose is a long standing tradition in my wife’s family. We wanted to incorporate names that were important to both sides of our family when we named her. We had kicked around the idea of naming her directly after my Ma, so her name would have been Margaret Rose, but the idea of telling a “Little Marge” what to do was just too bizarre for me. We decided that Elizabeth, my mother and grandmother’s middle name would do perfectly. That was pretty much the last thing we agreed on in regards to her name.

                I originally had worked very hard to sneak a nerdy name in. Anyone that knows me and at this point, anyone that has read even a few blog posts, knows that I am a huge nerd. Almost every name that I suggested was promptly shot down. For the record though, I still firmly stand by the name River despite my wife’s strong opposition.  But I digress, I thought I was being sneaky still with the name of Elizabeth. While it isn’t nerdy per se, I just assumed that I would be able to call her Liz after Tina Fey’s character Elizabeth “Liz” Lemon from 30 Rock. How wrong I was. My wife wants to call her Eliza, which is nice, don’t get me wrong, but she just doesn’t seem like an Eliza to me. There are other ways to shorten of course, Beth is really popular one but for quite a few different reasons that I would prefer not to get in to here we shan’t be calling her Beth. Betty is also a shortened version of Elizabeth, which we both kind of like, but kids are dickheads so Ugly Betty is kind of inevitable. Which leads me to my next thought…

                The main thing my wife has against Liz is that it can be turned in to so many different things. Lizzy, Lizard, Blizzard, Liz-bian, etc. As mentioned before, kids are generally dickheads and will be cruel no matter what. Eliza is much more of a challenge, but for all we know by the time she get to high school, Eliza could be slang for a blowjob or something. I know a fellow by the name of Gaylord Johnson. Yes, you read that correctly. This gentleman is in his low 80’s and is a very nice guy, I am sure when he was born “Gaylord” was not slur that 8^th grade boys slung at each other nor was “Johnson” a euphemism for penis. Some times you just can't win. In all reality, Betty might be the safer bet considering by the time she gets old enough, most kids won’t even know the show Ugly Betty.

                It has only become such a thing in our house because daycare asked what we prefer her to be called. My wife overheard one of the daycare teachers call her Lizzy one day (a name we both don’t like) and despite my wife’s best efforts, she crinkled her knows like she was smelling a fart. For now, we told them just to call her Elizabeth as she has enough nicknames at home (Ewok, Da Butt, Little Bit, Gomer, etc.). I don’t recall if I mentioned this in an earlier post, but we did find out that they call her Queen Elizabeth at daycare, not because she is high maintenance, but because she is so well liked and well behaved. We were told that they look forward to her coming in because she is generally so happy-go-lucky and smiley. That was a huge pat on a back as a parent, but really I don’t think we can take credit for it as she has been chill and happy since she was born. Even today when I picked her up to go to the doctor’s office they said she was “a little cranky because of the teething…well…cranky for her”. They’ve told me more than once that her being cranky is still better than several of the other babies there on a good day. We really did luck out I guess.

                I think for the short term, my wife and I plan on just calling her Elizabeth along with our laundry list of nicknames. As she gets older and we see more of her personality form, our hope is that a short will present itself that fits her, even if it is Beth or Lizzy…but let’s hope not. In the meantime, she will be my little Ewok and snuggle buddy.

                Thank you all for reading, I hope to get at least one more post up sometime this week, but we will see how crazy this week can get. Either way, use this time to catch up on past posts and keep checking back. Don’t forget to check out Fatterhood on Facebook too! Prost!

SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS!

Holy shit gang,

                What a wild week it has been! I thought for sure I was going to find the time to get another post up last week, but life came and kicked me square in the junk. Work was hellacious and busy all week and then Ewok got some sort of stomach bug on Friday. She threw up a grand total of 10 times I believe and was just an all around crab ass all weekend. When she wasn’t being crabby she was sleeping which was kind of a plus I guess. Both my wife and I ended up getting sick as well though, we didn’t get the stomach part of it (thank God!), but both of use felt like total piles all weekend. Yet again, I must say that my wife is a freaking saint! Elizabeth was obviously sick and I had such a bad headache that I couldn’t move without my head feeling like it was going to explode (not to mention that out of 72 hours I slept for about 68 of them) so even though she wasn’t feeling well at all either, she was the caretaker by default. I may be implying that she wasn’t “that sick”, which is accurate to a point I guess. She felt better than Elizabeth or I did, but she still had a sinus headache that would have made Andre the Giant say “uncle” so I assume her Sainthood paperwork is in the mail from the Vatican. At least everyone is feeling good now.

                Anyways, I realized I forgot a pretty major update in my last post. Elizabeth has started on non-boob foods! So far we have only done mashed up squash and avocados, but she seems to really dig them both. We haven’t really given them to legitimately feed her, more just to get her used to the idea. She loves to grab chunks and play with it on her little tray and then suck off whatever is left on her fingers. She is SUPER curious now about any food that my wife or I have now. Uncle Ginger and Aunt Doc came over the other night and Ginger had a new whiskey for me to try. I was sampling it in a low-ball glass and the little gomer kept trying to take it from me! She also wants a French fry so bad that I can almost taste it (no pun intended…ok it was intended, but give me a break).  She is just so curious about everything now. She is constantly on the lookout for something to get in to. She is very responsive to any stimuli and seems very engaged with her surroundings. Obviously…she is a genius.

                Today we had our 6 month check-up. I know, I know, 6 months already! I don’t know where this time keeps going. Doctor said everything was looking really good and that she seems to be on track for everything. He did ask if she was starting to say “mama” or “dada” yet, and we told him that she is making those sounds, but hasn’t assigned them to either of us, she just makes those sounds while jibber jabbering. I was surprised, because he said that it still counts which seems odd. So far the smart money at our house is on her saying “Daddy” first as she will continuously say “dadadadadadadadada” all freaking day long. I know nobody will believe this, but I have actively tried to get her to say Mama first. I figured it is quite literally the least I can do considering that my wife carried her for 9 months, delivered her, only to have her come out looking and acting like me. Didn’t seem fair for her first word to be daddy too.  Anyways, she also had 4 shots today. She really took them like a champ. She cried of course, but it didn’t last long at all. Within 10 minutes we had her smiling and giggling. She is one tough little lady, just like her Mommy.

                I do have yet another humorous fat-dad fail to share. I had an office day yesterday, but since I was still feeling like twice microwaved shit I left work early and decided to pick up Elizabeth from daycare to get some extra snuggle time in. We came home and she demolished 4.5 ounces of boob juice and promptly passed out. She woke up about 45 minutes later in an especially good mood so we started to play. The new game that we play that she loves is “Jump”. I stand her up in my lap, hold on to her waist, bounce her a little, say “jump, jump, jump” and then raise her up above my head. She giggles and we have a good time. Well…this time when I raised her above my head she decided to spit up directly in my mouth! Before I continue this story, I feel I need to point out that it had been a full 45 minutes since she ate, she was in a good mood, and she wasn’t sick anymore. I thought I was in the safe zone. Nope. Anyways, I’m not sure if you have ever had a baby spit up directly in your mouth before, but it isn’t fun…especially when you yourself are not feeling good. I’ve never tasted my wife’s breast milk before, so I’m not sure if what was spit into my mouth was “good” or “bad”, but it was warm and fucking disgusting, so I quickly yet calmly laid her down on the floor and proceeded to projectile vomit in the toilet. Again…I wanted a freaking dog!

                Oh the joys of parenthood eh? As always, thank you for reading. Check out Fatterhood on Facebook for cute pictures of my Ewok and some random musings. And check back soon for another blog post. Thanks again, PROST!