On Visual Confirmation...

Do not be distracted by the baby. This picture is simply posted as evidence of my stunning weight loss due to sugar starvation.

On Waisting Away...

I’ve been conspicuously absent from the blog for over a week now and some explanation is in line for why there has been no posting. You see I was tired. Actually, I was drained of all energy due to the insidious nature of The South Beach diet. If you are not familiar with it, let’s just say that the first two weeks are what I imagine the totality of Hell will be like. No sugar, very little carbs. Basically, anything that might make your life worth living…awake…is not allowed.

I don’t think that you realize just how much of our everyday food has some sort of sugar in it. Even canned vegetables have sugar. Avoiding sugar is something tantamount to avoiding oxygen. It almost cannot be done. Trust me.

My wife and I cut short Phase I of the diet by 24 hours. There was only so much chicken and vegetables we could eat without wanting to end it all. I would just be satisfied for something that has taste associated with it from time to time. So Phase II was ushered in this morning complete with its allowance for fruits and some bread products. We can also have milk and other dairy like yogurt again. At this point, it really is the little things.

All in all this diet has been a very good thing for me. Despite my intense hatred of the first two weeks, my eating habits and the way I’m currently looking at food have totally changed. Even my cravings have diminished somewhat. I was never much of a vegetables guy. But when you are basically only allowed to eat them, and meat, you start to get over some of the hang-ups you previously had. I haven’t eating squash or zucchini since I was little and probably refused to eat it after the first bite. I eat them now though. I’ve actually gotten so used to bell peppers that I don't even have to hold my nose before swallowing. I even had eggplant… I’ve confirmed that I will never have another reason to eat eggplant again. I’m actually going to call for its abolition. I figure if you can't bring yourself to eat it on a limited diet, it will never be one of the chosen.

More frightening however, is that I started to look forward to when we could introduce fruit into the diet. Fruit is a particular nemesis. It is a texture thing I guess, but the seeds don’t exactly send me into rapture. Still, I was excited for there introduction into the diet, along with the bread. This morning, as I was eating my cereal of bran, I was introduced to blueberries. It was not a beautiful union, but more of a grudging alliance. We agreed to meet again in the near future and see if we can work out our differences. Next up will be strawberries, of which I do have a little history. We’ve been introduced but never had much of a conversation. I hope we can get to know each other better…that is, if he isn’t totally annoying to me.

It’s hard to argue that all this dieting hasn’t given me results. I don’t feel like I look much different, but the scale tells me that there is 10 pounds less of me than there was two weeks ago. To me, it wasn’t so much about the weight as it was about looking healthy. Since it is pretty hard to look healthy without actually being healthy, well, I was left with no choice. If I was 215 pounds of muscle (even mostly muscle), then I’d still be eating pizza 3 times a day (with a milkshake chaser). As it is, I find myself going to Chik-Fil-A and getting the garden salad…as a treat. My, but the time they are achangin’.

The cool thing is that my wife and I are doing this together. This means that we spend less time in front of the TV and more time preparing meals, or going to the store to hunt down that elusive beast called…”Things We Can Still Eat”. We even went to a grocery store that was one of those places. You know, lot’s of organic stuff. No major brand names. I’d heard of them, but wasn’t sure if they even existed…but apparently they are real, and legal. And apparently I was wrong. If you eat organic you are not required to vote liberal. And I didn’t see one hippie in the entire store. Truth be told, I was a little disappointed by that.

On Significant Events...

There were two fairly significant events that occurred on Wednesday this week. Both will reverberate for a while here in the Halls of Mental Midgetry.

The first is that my wife gave her final notice that she will be staying home next year to take care of K-Mad through her first year on the planet. The past few months she has been on an extended leave of absence and that in itself has been a tough thing for her. She has done a great job so far, despite the fact that being relatively stationary all day without being surrounded by hundreds of people is not her natural habitat. She much prefers chaos…middle school chaos. Yet she also craves the time with K-Mad.

So you might imagine that the decision did not come easily. There were many tears. Dana was emotional too. It’s not an easy thing to make a definitive decision to forego your career for a year…or for any amount of time really. It really stinks when your career is something that you love doing. You know, it’s strange. I keep hearing about all these burnt out teachers in our country, but I guess I don’t have any real experience with that phenomenon (well, not since high school anyway). Every day I’m around a highly motivated teacher who loves her job and misses her students. I don’t know whether that is commendable or if I should have her committed. Of course, K-Mad will benefit from a great mother who is also a great teacher. I fully expect that she’ll know her ABC’s by next week.

The second major event that occurred this week is that a true war against my ever expanding waistline has been declared. For the first time in my life, I’ve joined the ranks of the dieting horde. The South Beach Diet has come into my life and, needless to say, I hate you all and I hope you die. The good thing is, my personality has not seemed to change at all with my new dietary restrictions. This is totally new ground for me. I still view myself as the guy I was in high school (on many fronts actually) and wonder who that guy is in the mirror every morning. Dieting was just not something I ever imagined doing. I used to have a metabolism that allowed me to burn off almost anything that entered my system. Alas, more evidence that my youth is lost.

So fair warning, you may see some post next week that are a little more angsty than usual. I’ll try not to take it out on you…but again, no promises.

On Mom...

I had hoped to do another Mother’s Day post yesterday, but was unable to attend to it due to unforeseen circumstances. Work. The fact of the matter is, I’ve been too long remiss in giving kudos to the female who raised me to be the man I am today. I guess some might consider that questionable praise, but I happened to think that things could have been worse…much worse.

The fact of the matter is, my Mother should probably get more praise than on just one day of the year. Back in the 1970’s this woman married herself to the Army (oh, and my Dad) and moved from a small town in SC where all her family lived, and went to glamorous locations like Ft. Knox, KY and Korea before landing in Arizona where her two children were born.

To hear my Mom tell the story, she had a rough go in her early years of motherhood simply because no one prepares you for the massive changes that occur with a new baby. This is particularly true when your first born (me) decides to be very vocal about their existence, their likes and dislikes and the fact that they just soiled their britches for the umpteenth time that…hour. The stories of my infancy and early childhood have become legend in my family. So much so, that my wife was sure that God was going to pay me back by our child being the same as I was. That has not been the case though.

The fact of the matter is, despite Mom feeling like she started out totally inadequate for the job of motherhood, she did a pretty awesome job. The Army took us a few other place, notably Germany, and she played the role of military wife and mother admirably. My earliest memories start in Germany and I distinctly remember playing Master Mind in the kitchen of our apartment. I also remember breaking the Korean lamp my mother loved in the living room.

Then came Virginia after a brief stop in Ft Leavenworth, KS (where Dad was not incarcerated in case you were wondering). We would settle here for the duration of my schooling until Dad finally retired and they moved back to SC to much rejoicing.

During my formative years, Mom was always there as a cheerleader, comforter and day laborer who always made sure that my sister and I knew we were loved. She was the mother of two totally different types of children and was able to provide the finesse needed for both. I was always more independent, and hated help with my homework or other things, and Mom gave me the breathing room I needed while not letting me make a total ass of myself.

Much of my morality comes from my parents. Mom was instrumental in instilling good values into me even when I would intentionally pull her strings. Often she did this through her great sense of humor. On one epic event, I mouthed off about something. She said, jokingly, that if I didn’t stop it she would pour her cold coffee over my head. I told her that she didn’t have it in her… She had it in her, and I had it all over me.

Even though she is the one that taught me the value of a good nap, she seems to be tireless in all that she does. I know that I do not have that same fortitude in me. She has been the frontline in my sister’s battle with an eating disorder, she worked for many years down in SC and now she is taking care of her mother since her step-father has been diagnosed with cancer. It doesn’t that there is much rest of the weary. All of this, and I’ve never heard her complain. The love she shows for those around her amazes me.

Add all that to her first grandchild being born and her traveling almost every month to come see her…I’m frankly tired just writing this Happy Mother’s Day message to her.

So Happy Mother’s Day Mom! I’m going to go take a nap right now…and yes, I am still at work…

On Too Cute...

This folks...this right here is why I'm in so, so much trouble. I assure you, it only gets far cuter from there.

On Motherhood...

I wouldn’t say that I’m much of a morning person, but I’m also not militantly against the idea that I do have to wake up and start my day. I just don’t see the point in belaboring my rising and my shining in a war that I simply cannot win. I am a man of routines, and I do have a one for the morning. Lately that entails getting K-Mad from her room and delivering her to the food supply unit. Then I get myself nekkid and into the shower. Now, while in this birthday suit state, I won’t say that I exactly check myself out. I’ve been fighting a losing battle of the bulge that I don’t need to be reminded of daily. Let’s just say that my once emaciated looking college body is gone…gone, gone. Years ago I had someone tell me that I might actually want to eat a sandwich from time to time. I did…repeatedly. Although I take care to avoid visual confirmation of my waistline, I do always take a quick peak down to my gibblies to assure that the presence of wang is still there…

…and then I always take time to thank God that I am a male…

And this is how I’m starting my Mother’s Day post…

My wife is far superior to me in quality and…well…basically about every other way imaginable. Except in Scrabble. I still own her in Scrabble. She has put her career life on hold for the time being to take care of K-Mad. She has pored herself into the comfort and care of our child from day one with no complaints even at odd hours of the morning. It has not always been easy. I can see the toll it sometimes takes on her, especially when she is sacked out on the couch waiting for to hook herself up to what I call the Bessy Machine. But K-Mad is turning out to be a total delight, and that is in no small part to all the efforts of my wife. I’m not totally absent, but the special care K-Mad gets from her mother is huge, and I am so thankful for it…

…but you couldn’t pay me to take her place. I’m not talking about staying home, or taking care of K-Mad full time. I’d love to do that actually. Stay at home Dad is exactly how I’d like to spend my life…in theory. Since parents often view public school teachers as babysitters for their children, I think they should be paid accordingly. Then my wife could go back to work and make hundreds of thousands of dollars a year if you think about it. Hundreds of children and 8 hours at a conservative $20.00/child rate… We could make a bed of money and just roll in it.

I would never want to be a mother in today’s society because of the mix signals, and downright hostility some women have for those who either choose to stay home, or choose to go back to work. As you might guess, that is exactly where we find ourselves today. My wife has about two weeks left to determine what she will do for the next year. This is not the first time we have dealt with this question, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. The process of making that decision is influenced by what I see as two very different and distinct philosophies, neither of which is very accommodating to those who disagree with them. This is particularly the case if you are an evangelical Christian and my wife and I are. I’m not an expert, but I do know that in making her decision, these to viewpoints weigh heavily on her.

Naturally, the more conservative Christian viewpoint on motherhood is that, if at all possible, a woman should always stay home with her child(ren). There is little to no room for a woman to think about her career because her duty is to raise children, not worry about her place in the workforce. Proponents point to all kinds of scripture that they feel supports this view, particularly highlighting gender roles as they believe they are outlined in The Bible. Stepping down from that extreme, other Christians do recognize that woman may actually like to work and desire a career outside of raising the family. However, there is still the expectation that for a while, the mother should stay at home (usually until school age). Even in that case, the woman who might actually enjoy working and not want to put her career on hold to stay at home for much beyond maternity leave is, if not shunned, certainly made to feel awkward (most of the times not even deliberately).

On the other hand, today’s society seems to play the exact opposite card, but with the same inability for any kind of flexibility. Women who decide to stay home, forgoing their career for a time or forever are looked down upon by the more extreme elements. They are made to feel like they are striking against the cause of feminism and adhering to outdated gender roles for motherhood. You here it referred to as a 50’s woman, or June Cleaver. That or you are passed off as some sort of religious freak, or a trophy wife somehow not as strong and independent as the woman who chooses life outside the home. Either way, you are subservient to the wishes of males, or you have no ambitions of your own. My favorite part about this viewpoint is often it is supposedly the champion of open-mindedness. In theory it is. In practice, it is often a form of reverse narrow-minded demagoguery because if fails to take into account that 1) a woman can choose to stay at home as an expression of who she is, or of what she truly wants for herself and family and 2) even if it is out of a sense of faith, that does not reduce the woman to a caricature of servitude.

There is a middle ground. Many of the folks I know live in it. However, it seems that they are few and far between. My viewpoint is that I am going to support my wife regardless of what she and we decide for her next year. The fact of the matter is, she is an awesome teacher. Although I would love for her to stay home, if we can swing it, I do not share in the belief that there is enough Biblical evidence to suggest that a woman cannot work and be a mother at the same time. I’d even support her if she goes back to work for the sole purpose of her career. I just don’t support a society that tells her she has to do that or she will be less of a woman.

So, on this coming Mother’s Day, I say enjoy it babe. You are an awesome Mom no matter what the future holds!

On Taking Stock...

It’s bad enough when work invades my home life, but when work invades my work life, that is just unbearable, and uncalled for. This is about the busiest season that I have, so I’ve been unable to get online and spread my own version of wisdom. I’m very liberal with the definition of wisdom, and I think you might consider being too. My newly found workload couldn’t come at a worse time for a couple of reasons. Mainly, my personal Loaf Quota has not been met in the past four months now, and worse, I was just getting my second wind regarding posting to this blog. Work and fatherhood have allied against my lazy essence and are threatening to change me as a person. I could not be more devastated.

So in honor of my new found desire to “blog it up”, and my changing persona to a more goal minded and hard working individual (please attempt not to faint), I have decided to dialogue with myself, chronicled on this post, and figure out just what I’m supposed to be doing here with Odes to Mental Midgetry. To be sure, I have made it very clear to my very being that no form of Mental Giantry would be tolerated in my premises. I think myself got the message because I still feel pretty stupid this morning.

I really never had an idea of what I wanted to blog about when I started this. I just figured that I would pretty much write about anything that came to mind. It’s been a blast so far, even if, embarrassingly, it appears what comes to my mind the most involves something to do with Netflix. I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised considering I sometimes forget to eat whilst I am reorganizing my queue… I’ve had some positive feedback from many folks, most of which say that they enjoy getting to know me through reading this blog. I think when I hear that my first reaction is really to die a little bit more inside. Seriously, I hope that you know that this blog is primarily about exaggeration and sometimes outright falsehood. I would be devastated if you thought that I was really a Woody Allen clone, particularly since I loathe Woody Allen.

So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll keep at this for a bit longer. I will probably continue to avoid the overtly political since one of my goals was not to be like 95% of the other blogs that exist. I’d rather have my comments section spammed by my family and not by irate folks who disagree with my worldview. Heck, I disagree with my worldview most of the time I see it actually written out. I hope you will forgive my occasional forays into more serious fare though, considering my life is not all about hi-jinks as my Flight 93 post may suggest.
I hope you enjoy continuing to read this as much as I enjoy writing it. Maybe you’ll learn a little bit more about me…and lose that last ounce of respect you had for me.

On Travelling (Part Duex), Screams and Wedding Things...

This weekend will be another travel weekend, and we here at The Halls of Mental Midgetry are trying to hold back the tides of panic that are already threatening to wash over us. CINCHOUSE called before 9:00a.m., before my seat was even warm, to inform me that she already had lists of stuff we needed to do and to pack before we hit the road tomorrow. I think she enjoys doing this to me. It’s not like we just met. We have known each other for over a decade…we are about to celebrate five years of marriage. And in case none of that educated her, she does read this blog. So evidence suggests that my stress is some sort of perverse joy for her.

This will not be a long trip in the sense of how far we have to drive. We’re only going to Richmond, a mere two hours away. In Northern Virginia Time to Real Time conversion that’s still only a 4 hour trip. So it’s not like we are going down to SC or anything. Plus, this weekend we are going to participate in a wedding of a long time friend to the Beeley’s dating back to our youthful days at JMU. Good times are virtually guaranteed. I’m even getting gussied up in a tux. Not surprisingly, I don’t often gussy up, so that should be an event unto itself. I imagine my friend's stress out paces mine for the weekend. But this blog is really about him, now, is it?

To make matters even better, I have definitively proven the existence of God. Theologians, historians, athiests and dogmatic followers can finally put aside their differences. The proof is simply this...the fox hound will not be joining us on this journey. A dog sitter has been found for He Who Vomits Muchly. (And seriously, I’ve watched this dog jump over couches, turn on a dime repeatedly when chased, navigate wooded areas at full speed and outrun most other animals except greyhounds and cheetahs. How is it possible…how is it POSSIBLE…that he has motion sickness!?!). I take great comfort that I will not be spending any time cleansing my car from his morning meal. K-Mad is another matter, but we can at least put a bib on her.

However, we are still traveling with an infant. I’ve discovered that K-Mad is very much like a rock star and her mother and I are her entourage. She has been known to make unreasonable demands about her car seat like: “I want to get out of this car seat!”, or even “I’m hungry, feed me now!”. She is turning into a diva...minus the cocaine addiction. There are three people going to Richmond this weekend, but 80% of the cargo will be K-Mad related. If it’s not the Pack N’ Play, it’s the swing. We are even bringing her bouncy seat. There might be room for her mother and I to bring a change of clothes, but I'm willing to turn my underwear inside-out if I must. I can relive college for a weekend.

Of course, all of this is in an effort to make sure she has the comforts of home so as not to totally flake out on us. That is the cause of much anxiety at the moment. Along with the really cool new things she is doing, like laughing and smiling, she has also started her period of…less pleasant communication. The past two nights have been learning experiences for me personally. To this point, K-Mad has cried, and at times those cries were sustained and loud. But they were cries. We have now entered the screaming stage. Two nights ago, while trying to put her down for the night, she decided that she didn’t want Dad. She let me know this with screams of displeasure. I thought maybe she was in pain, but that proved to be false because she shut up the second Mom took her.

Last night was a true baptism though. My wife had gone to get her nails done for the wedding. She was gone for about an hour and a half. Of that time, K-Mad screamed for about 45 minutes straight. I was sure that all 15 of our neighbors living next door thought I was murdering my child. I had to leave her be at one point and just let her cry for 15 minutes before trying to re-engage. Long story short, I prevailed in the end. I think that bout may have been gas related, but still, only when she got her first round of shots did she scream like that…and that ended after 2 minutes. I told me wife had she returned in the middle of that, I would have given her the child without a word, made my way to the shower, waited until the water was poring over me…and cried my eyes out in frustration. That was brutal. Don't judge me. You weren't there. As it was, she found me calm but totally wiped out on the couch watching Weird Al in UHF…I was that screwed up.

But I grew some thicker skin, and will not be as affected the next time. My worry is that my mother-in-law, who will be caring for K-Mad for two nights in a row as we participate in wedding activities, is not prepared for this. Now, I’m about to wade right into controversy here. I want you to know that I could not ask for better in-laws all around, especially not a better mother-in-law. Yet, I must say that I would not be feeling angst if my own mother was watching K-Mad instead. Now before everyone starts diving for cover thinking that I just started some war, let me explain. My wife and brother-in-law must have been absolute cherubs, because for some reason my mother-in-law honestly believes that if a child is crying for an extended period…especially screaming, then a) they must be hungry or b) if they aren’t hunger then something must be medically wrong with them and a pediatrician needs to be involved. On the other hand, my mother raised me. I’ve watched her rock K-Mad for about an hour in the early morning while she wailed…and my mother would still smile at me as I came into the nursery. What a freak. She was totally unaffected. I got the sense from her smile that she was saying “You were worse. This is nothing”.

The last family gathering with K-Mad and my in-law side did not go well either. K-Mad didn’t scream, but let’s just say happiness was not exhibited to any great degree. I felt like my mother-in-law took it personally that K-Mad did not respond well to her attempts to calm her down. Like she had failed or something. I felt like taking her aside and saying “Woman. (I’m all about respect you see) You need to realize that the little girl in there is a Beeley spawn. You just don’t understand. We turn out alright in the end, but the beginning can be a loud, rough ride”.

I am, of course, doing my blog bit here and speaking in hyperboles. My mother-in-law is well equipped to deal with her granddaughter. She has three grandchildren already and my niece, her son’s daughter, was known to pitch a fit too. I would just feel awful two of her nights are not spent seeing all the great qualities of K-Mad, but seeing the…brutal.



Oh, and the real beauty of the weekend schedule is that K-Mad has her second round of shots tomorrow morning. Seriously, who planned this day?

On Fatherhood...

K-Mad has not made much of an appearance here in the blog of late, and for that I truly apologize. Lest you were worried, she is still breathing, and not so underweight anymore. Apparently she inherited both her mother and father’s genes of a high metabolism. If so, she can be sure that this gift will end suddenly and completely when she hits 25 years old. Lately she is tipping the scales at a whopping 11 pounds and some odd ounces. We do another weigh in this Friday. We are hoping to get out of the 25th percentile at some point.

She’s finally out of her newborn clothes too. I remember the days when her mother and I talked about how much money (mostly other people’s money) was spent on clothes that she would probably fit into for a month or so. What a joke that turned out to be. We have got our…or your…money’s worth out of her clothes. But can I be honest here…maybe even a little mushy? I’m sorry to see some of those outfits go. It’s not that I just liked the way they looked…it’s that she is growing…and growing means she is changing…and I hate change.

For a while I thought that fatherhood was not living up to its billing. I mean, in the way that it was supposed to be all “hard to do” and such. Please. I had come to believe that I was some freaking natural or something. She was helpless against my innate abilities to rock her to sleep at night. Her 4:30a.m. diaper changes were a breeze. Sometimes she could be overly cranky, but if that’s the best she could do, then this parenting thing was no problem.

Something happened to me last Friday. I was already in a mood regarding United 93’s release. Obviously, I chose to blog about that instead… Make no mistake, in some ways this event impacted my psyche every bit as much…

…Thanks to my insistence on making friends with total computer geeks, my Thursday nights are spent online doing geeky things. I’m not proud of that fact…but I’m married and have no one left to impress. Plus, my troll character is becoming uber…and uberness is next to Godliness. Friday mornings are fairly brutal, especially because Congress has not, so far, acknowledged my idea for permanent three-day weekends. Thus, I must depend on my friend…let’s call him Mr. Starbucks…to give me a little pick-me-up.

Have you ever seen one of those TV shows or movies that start out by following some average joe in his regular routine. You may see him going to the grocery store, or the dry cleaners… Then he makes his way to the bank. Now you, the viewer, also see the van pulling up full of guys that are about to rob the same bank that our average joe just entered. You might even scream something like “Don’t go in there!” He is in the wrong place at the wrong time.

On Friday, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I stroll up to the Starbucks and enter not realizing that today would affect me in profound ways. I would be forced to deal with a crisis for which I was not prepared. I hadn’t taken any of the self-defense courses that I promised myself I would. I didn’t check to make sure I knew where all the exits where in case of emergency like you are always supposed to do. No, I went in the door in a sleep deprived coma and missed an obvious bad sign standing right in front of me…

…two teenage girls in their Paul VI Catholic school uniforms were ahead of me in line. I could barely make out the bleached blond hair of both girls through the crust that still covered my eyes, but their overblown sense of self-importance hit me like a wall. I think some of it even got in my nose. And then they began to communicate. It is the communication of girls that are obviously high school seniors and know all about life. This communication requires a slightly upturned nose and copious amounts of fixing your hair. Giggling is also involved and apparently we have re-entered the valley girl era of the 80’s and no one told me because everything was “oh my god” followed by a pronouncement of something that I’m sure God could care less about.

If you’ve been reading this blog for any amount of time, you know that one of my biggest fears in life is the thought of rearing a female teenager. It is not that I view them as the most useless thing ever. Some of them are quite lovely…at times. It is that I have zero experience with what in the heck they are thinking at any given moment. I do have a sister, and she was a teenager at one point...but that only serves to validate my inability to decifer their very essence. Male teenagers are easy. They are certifiable morons. But I was once, and some would say still, a certifiable moron myself. So at least I have a foundation for dealing with a male. I have enough trouble understanding what my wife wants.

At the bottom of all of this angst is really my feelings of total inadequacy regarding parenting. I know…I just flaked out on you. I went all “girl” myself by even uttering the phrase “feelings of inadequacy”. It’s the truth though. What the heck do I know about guiding anyone through the road of life. I fall asleep during road trips…this one hasn’t been much different. Now I’ve got to be the driver? God help us…and He’s going to have to for this to work at all.

Of course, this angst I feel could all be for naught, you never know how K-Mad will turn out over a decade from now. She’s just barley staring to show her personality now, so I’m not sure what I’m hyperventilating about. Besides, I married smart. I married a Middle School teacher. I figure one half of this parenting corps is somewhat prepared.

I think this calls for a self help book….