Have you ever seen Willie Wonka and the chocolate factory? The old one. Gene Wilder. This fine movie has a portion of it that is currently parallel to my current situation. No, I did not win a golden ticket, get sucked into a huge tube for drinking out of a chocolate river or turn into a huge blueberry. I’m talking about the sleeping situation. I have not gone off the deep and and purchased a bed gown with matching cap, my grandparents have long passed, so they aren’t in our bed and we have not started sleeping head to foot( I don’t like feet), but its something similar. If you know me, or have read any of my previous blog entries, you know, to be frank, we have a hell of alot of kids and dogs. Call me a bad parent, but our 1 year old sleeps in the bed with us. Along with my retired bomb dog, who sleeps at my feet, my wife’s pom, who sleeps on her pillow, on top of her head( sometimes mine, which is confusing, because I will often have dreams that I finally have hair, and usually wake up disappointed) and our 3 year old, who literally has a bed 5 feet away from our bed, but usually ends up with us.
This is alot to take in, so lets take a breather. We have a king size bed. More than enough room for two, and even a one year old. When you add two dogs, and potentially a third if you get up to go to the bathroom, or get a diaper, or fill a bottle, or turn the wrong way, there is a 90 lb lab who jumps up to take your place and the 3 year old, who has migrated from her bed, things get confusing and uncomfortable. I currently occupy about a popsicle stick worth of space on this once king sized bed. If you have kids, you know that they tend to move when they sleep. Quite a bit. My 3 year old moves like a pop locker who just watched Breakin’ and will do the robot, topped off with the kickworm, from her spot, to the bottom of the bed, and back to the top or the side. There really is no method to her madness. The one year old, is fairly still, except when she rolls over to slap you, or kick you, because she loves you so much, she feels the need, in her sleep to smack or kick the everloving, hair having dream out of your mind with her tiny, strong legs and hands. She’s tough and i’m not anymore. I bruise easily.
This is my problem. It is my struggle. How do I fix this? As most of you know, I have spent a fair portion of my fatherhood running around foreign countries with a rifle in my hand and I have missed shenanigans like this. I don’t want to go Joan Crawford and strap the 3 year old in bed, and the bomb dog has carte blanche to do whatever the hell he wants, outside of getting used diapers out of the garbage can and shredding them on the bedroom floor, which makes for an awkward first step in the morning. He still does it, and I hate it, but then he jumps on the bed and cuddles up with one of the kids, so he has found his safe spot where he cant get in trouble, and I get to clean pee diaper crystals off my feet. YEA!!!
So we are back to where we started. I currently have my wife, asleep, 3 year old with her feet in the 1 year olds face, bomb dog next to her head and the pom on top of the pillow. As I type this from my popsicle stick space on the bed, I don’t know if I really want to fix it, to be honest. One day the bomb dog will pass away, the kids will get too old to think mom and dad are cool and we will have an almost empty king sized bed. Sometimes in life, we see problems as just that and not the blessings that they really are. One day, this bed will be a lonely place with only two of us.
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Thursday, December 10, 2015
Austin
I had a story to tell
To be perfectly honest, the last time I had been on stage in a performing capacity was the much anticipated 4/5th grade performance of “Your’e a good man, Charlie Brown” that had a two night run at Sunset Center in Carmel, California. I had secured the much sought after role of “Rock” who at one point in the play wore a pair of bunny ears and ran across the stage behind a clueless Charlie Brown. I also was probably close to grammy consideration when I got to sing “Two kinds of ice cream” during one of the performance numbers. Let me backtrack. Rock was created for me, because every kid in my class had to have a stage part in the play, and I was not that great at taking directions or singing and according to my teacher and the director of the play, I kept messing with my mouth before I sang my line. I had to take my retainer out, so I could let those lungs shine!!! Last night was different. It wasn’t a mandatory participation play, Carmel Valley was long in my rearview and this was for real.
My favorite Texan, who does not have a last name of Nunemaker, had pitched my story and after talking with the senior producer, and making her cry possibly every time we talked, I got a spot to tell my story. I say that David Crabb is my favorite non Nunemaker Texan, because he is. He jumped right past George Strait into the #1 slot, because without him I wouldn’t be doing something that was much bigger than me. We met several years before at a Wounded Warrior Project writers seminar and through that time, we went from writing stories to telling stories and David was always so good to us with his time.
I have had many titles in my life. Jail bound, College dropout, Soldier, Dad, College Graduate, Husband and I still don’t know if I can add writer of storyteller to it, because literally a week ago, I couldn’t find one pair of clean underwear and might have considered wearing one of my daughters diapers, until I could. I said earlier how my story was bigger than me, and it was.
The Story
No, im not going to tell “THE STORY”, because it is very emotional and hard for me to tell. I selected the story, because of that reason and because I knew that we were not alone in what we had been through. It is about my daughter and her death, and I never realized that it would affect so many people. I sat in the Paramount theater dressing room before the show with the other amazing storytellers that night and I did two things. 1) I probably overdid the cheeses. I only admit that, because in our house, we go with the presliced kraft cheese that is best for kids sandwiches and giving animals medicine. Sometimes we go fancy and get the HEB havarti cheese, you know the one that has the black hard plastic back and the TWO layers of protective sheeting on it? Yeah, big time fancy for us.
I had no idea what to do. I saw the other stroytellers, kind of go off on their own, and work on their craft. I figured that would be a good idea. I sat down in a chair in the hallway, right by the Chris Isaak autograph on the wall, and felt like the kid in school who should be doing his homework, but was definitely not doing it. Before I get too far, I need to let you know something. Music has always been something that I have cherished in my life. When I was in the Army, when we deployed, I took a discman to Iraq in 2003, same one in 2004-2005 and took my first Ipod to Afghanistan in 2008-2009. I always loved how before we would go on a mission in 2003, my team leader would play “Sandstorm” over and over through the jerry rigged speakers in our truck. Every time I hear that song, I think of Baghdad and what it was like to be young and wild. In Afghanistan, I had a guy in another unit that filled my iPod with music I had never heard of. He was a good Texas boy, so I got a heavy dose of Jason Boland and the Stragglers, Randy Rogers Band, Charlie Robison and Kevin Fowler. I had some of my own country that was already on there, but the red dirt got in my blood and it was a great break from music I had been listening to for almost a year.
Sitting, now outside of the dressing room, I put on some Bruce Robison(Charlie’s brother) and Kelly Willis Robison(not Charlie’s brother) and it took me to a great place. Its a song called “Long way home” and I needed to get focused and in the right mood, it has great harmonies, the perfect amount of pedal steel and some great harmonica, and it did its job. David came out and asked if I was good, and I was. I had a great chance, not for me, but to introduce our daughter to the world, 4 years after her death, to people that would never know her, outside of tonight, but would come to love her like we did.
My turn
I was number two out of five and the first story was amazing!! Remember, the first time I was on stage to perform was when I was like 10, so over 30 years before and that didn’t end so well. As David introduced me, I walked up there like I knew what I was doing, and I think the 1500 beautiful people there, thought I did. As I told my story, I could pick out people in the crowd. The man in front who couldn’t look at me, the girl in the third row who was audibly crying and when I held my left arm to show how I cradled my daughter, I could feel her there. When I grabbed my left hand with my right, to show how I cradled her feet, it wasn’t my hand anymore, it was Melissa’s feet. I almost broke down several times, but I got through it. I was so lucky that my wife faked a family emergency and came up early, so she would have no problems getting her seat and my friend Zach came up too, and I think in the couple of years we have known each other, he has never seen me serious. I got to give my wife a kiss, right as I came off, but something even more amazing happened. During the intermission, I heard stories. I hugged. Someone cried with me. We were not alone. One older lady told me that she was there with her rainbow daughter, and she couldn’t look at her. She said that she didn’t know that's what children who are born after their sibling pass is called that. I met a rainbow baby, who was know probably in his 20’s. I met a man who lost his mother on Saturday and gave me a long hug, because we both needed it. That is the reason I told my story and I will continue to tell it, as long as people need hugs and good cries. This is a big world, and as fast as it moves, its good to know that we aren’t as alone as we think we are. Welcome to the world, Melissa. Everyone loves you.
To be perfectly honest, the last time I had been on stage in a performing capacity was the much anticipated 4/5th grade performance of “Your’e a good man, Charlie Brown” that had a two night run at Sunset Center in Carmel, California. I had secured the much sought after role of “Rock” who at one point in the play wore a pair of bunny ears and ran across the stage behind a clueless Charlie Brown. I also was probably close to grammy consideration when I got to sing “Two kinds of ice cream” during one of the performance numbers. Let me backtrack. Rock was created for me, because every kid in my class had to have a stage part in the play, and I was not that great at taking directions or singing and according to my teacher and the director of the play, I kept messing with my mouth before I sang my line. I had to take my retainer out, so I could let those lungs shine!!! Last night was different. It wasn’t a mandatory participation play, Carmel Valley was long in my rearview and this was for real.
My favorite Texan, who does not have a last name of Nunemaker, had pitched my story and after talking with the senior producer, and making her cry possibly every time we talked, I got a spot to tell my story. I say that David Crabb is my favorite non Nunemaker Texan, because he is. He jumped right past George Strait into the #1 slot, because without him I wouldn’t be doing something that was much bigger than me. We met several years before at a Wounded Warrior Project writers seminar and through that time, we went from writing stories to telling stories and David was always so good to us with his time.
I have had many titles in my life. Jail bound, College dropout, Soldier, Dad, College Graduate, Husband and I still don’t know if I can add writer of storyteller to it, because literally a week ago, I couldn’t find one pair of clean underwear and might have considered wearing one of my daughters diapers, until I could. I said earlier how my story was bigger than me, and it was.
The Story
No, im not going to tell “THE STORY”, because it is very emotional and hard for me to tell. I selected the story, because of that reason and because I knew that we were not alone in what we had been through. It is about my daughter and her death, and I never realized that it would affect so many people. I sat in the Paramount theater dressing room before the show with the other amazing storytellers that night and I did two things. 1) I probably overdid the cheeses. I only admit that, because in our house, we go with the presliced kraft cheese that is best for kids sandwiches and giving animals medicine. Sometimes we go fancy and get the HEB havarti cheese, you know the one that has the black hard plastic back and the TWO layers of protective sheeting on it? Yeah, big time fancy for us.
I had no idea what to do. I saw the other stroytellers, kind of go off on their own, and work on their craft. I figured that would be a good idea. I sat down in a chair in the hallway, right by the Chris Isaak autograph on the wall, and felt like the kid in school who should be doing his homework, but was definitely not doing it. Before I get too far, I need to let you know something. Music has always been something that I have cherished in my life. When I was in the Army, when we deployed, I took a discman to Iraq in 2003, same one in 2004-2005 and took my first Ipod to Afghanistan in 2008-2009. I always loved how before we would go on a mission in 2003, my team leader would play “Sandstorm” over and over through the jerry rigged speakers in our truck. Every time I hear that song, I think of Baghdad and what it was like to be young and wild. In Afghanistan, I had a guy in another unit that filled my iPod with music I had never heard of. He was a good Texas boy, so I got a heavy dose of Jason Boland and the Stragglers, Randy Rogers Band, Charlie Robison and Kevin Fowler. I had some of my own country that was already on there, but the red dirt got in my blood and it was a great break from music I had been listening to for almost a year.
Sitting, now outside of the dressing room, I put on some Bruce Robison(Charlie’s brother) and Kelly Willis Robison(not Charlie’s brother) and it took me to a great place. Its a song called “Long way home” and I needed to get focused and in the right mood, it has great harmonies, the perfect amount of pedal steel and some great harmonica, and it did its job. David came out and asked if I was good, and I was. I had a great chance, not for me, but to introduce our daughter to the world, 4 years after her death, to people that would never know her, outside of tonight, but would come to love her like we did.
My turn
I was number two out of five and the first story was amazing!! Remember, the first time I was on stage to perform was when I was like 10, so over 30 years before and that didn’t end so well. As David introduced me, I walked up there like I knew what I was doing, and I think the 1500 beautiful people there, thought I did. As I told my story, I could pick out people in the crowd. The man in front who couldn’t look at me, the girl in the third row who was audibly crying and when I held my left arm to show how I cradled my daughter, I could feel her there. When I grabbed my left hand with my right, to show how I cradled her feet, it wasn’t my hand anymore, it was Melissa’s feet. I almost broke down several times, but I got through it. I was so lucky that my wife faked a family emergency and came up early, so she would have no problems getting her seat and my friend Zach came up too, and I think in the couple of years we have known each other, he has never seen me serious. I got to give my wife a kiss, right as I came off, but something even more amazing happened. During the intermission, I heard stories. I hugged. Someone cried with me. We were not alone. One older lady told me that she was there with her rainbow daughter, and she couldn’t look at her. She said that she didn’t know that's what children who are born after their sibling pass is called that. I met a rainbow baby, who was know probably in his 20’s. I met a man who lost his mother on Saturday and gave me a long hug, because we both needed it. That is the reason I told my story and I will continue to tell it, as long as people need hugs and good cries. This is a big world, and as fast as it moves, its good to know that we aren’t as alone as we think we are. Welcome to the world, Melissa. Everyone loves you.
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