It has been a little over a month since I posted, and since then I have been home maybe six days. In that time, I have never felt compelled to write; I have felt like I should post something, but that is mainly because I sort of suggested a two week window when I last wrote. I think that means I'm done.
(For those who want to know about my situation: I'm working between 12 and 14 hours every day, including weekends. Sometimes lunch is a five minute window to scarf down cold pizza at 2pm, and dinner happens while the servers are cleaning up the restaurant for the night. I call home a few times a day, and the ones where Buffy doesn't cry are considered "good" ones. We don't have many good calls. Harry has stopped asking when I'm coming home and instead asks when I'm staying home. Of course, this is an improvement over a five day period where he refused to speak to me because he was so angry. Beverly is overworked and exhausted, and her parents - my infamous inlaws - have yet to offer help. In short, I'm miserable, and my family is suffering.
I've already written an email to the owner and explained that this was not what we agreed to, and that it cannot continue past this project. He has made assurances that I will get time off at the end of this to reconnect with my family, and that my role will be primarily office-based. I am, at best, skeptical of this, and expect that once I honour my one year "give it a shot" commitment I made with my wife, I will return to my former employer.)
So that's that. With the exception of the past month, I've been blogging regularly since the middle of 2006, so I've amassed five years of memories here that I'll probably dump to PDF and save for my kids to read when they are older (old enough to read me swearing, anyways), which will be cool for them. I think it will be good for them to be able to see me as a human being, without the veneer of being "father", to see the uncertainty or the guilt or the concern alongside the pride and happiness they will have grown up knowing.
Thank you to everyone who has read this and my other blogs, and especially to those of you who took the time to let me know you were out there by commenting or emailing me personally. (I'll still be monitoring this site's comments and email - theonesfd [at] gmail [dot] com - so if you want to reach me you still can.) You guys made this blog what it was, and I am grateful for that. I think we had some really good discussions here, and hopefully, through the magic of google, some other father will have a similar question and find some ideas or at least some commiseration here.
Anyways. I'm not big on long good byes, and this has already gotten longer than I expected.
So long, and thanks for all the fish.
The Post-Wedding Post
This is the post you've been asking/waiting for, as well as the post you probably aren't expecting.
- Happy Thanksgiving to all the Canadians out there. I hope your turkey day went/goes well.
- The tux situation worked out fine. I picked it up, with Harry in tow, on Friday afternoon. (To those who asked why I wore a tux, I don't wear suits, so the last one I have is from before I met Beverly and is horribly out of style. Rather than buy a suit that I probably won't wear again, we decided to rent a tux.)
- The rehearsal dinner was, in perfect form with the rest of the wedding, poorly planned. We all arrived, were handed menus, got the kids all set with what they wanted, only to be told that the meals were pre-arranged (and not what anyone wanted; I ordered pizza when we got home). On the plus side, I was able to avoid dealing with adults most of the night by watching most of the kids, which resulted in me being dubbed super-dad.
- Harry developed a cold overnight, so he was only slightly more amiable than a rabid wombat for most the day. Everything was a struggle, including getting him into his suit, which required me to take a second shower because he was convinced I was "stinky" and refused to dress until I washed. Of course, this happened an hour before the ceremony.
- At this point I suggest you check out my twitter feed for some quips that I'll explain.
- My MIL's hat literally looked like a brown yarmulke, worn to the side, with some bizarre fake plants sticking out of it. Beverly had the camera, so I couldn't capture it.
- When I brought the kids home before the reception, Buffy asked me, "Why doesn't [my SIL] want me at her party?" in between sobs. She pleaded with me to stay home with her and Harry. It was horrible.
- The groom, and a few other men, wore kilts. The father of the groom felt it necessary to (quite angrily, actually) explain during his speech that kilts were not dresses.
- Beverly's speech went over really well, which means her decision to cut my opening joke about living in a province where two people in a dress can get married was the right one.
- One of the few bright spots was a chance to talk to the one other Lions fan. He was much older; he actually remembers seeing Bobby Layne.
- The iTunes as a DJ plan went over about as well as you would expect a plan that allowed access to the playlist by drunk people. Some songs got cut midway through, and others were played on repeat until someone intervened.
- The bar didn't have shot glasses. They used wine glasses instead. My new BIL wanted to do a tequila shot. The bartender didn't try to measure. I don't really like tequila.
- Sunday we were supposed to go to Beverly's aunt's place for Thanksgiving dinner. For reasons that will be clear in a moment, we decided not to go.
- Sunday was also the day Buffy found out that later today I'll leave for my first business trip since she was 11 months old. I'll be a couple hours away, but working 12-16 hours a day, so visits aren't really an option. The first stretch will be two weeks - at least - and after that we really don't know. I'm struggling with leaving Beverly with the kids, with leaving the kids themselves, with everything right now.
- The increased work schedule means I will have no time to post here, so the blog will be on some sort of pseudo-hiatus. I'm not saying it's over, but I will admit that this will serve as a test drive for a blog-less life.
D-Day
It's starting. Actually, it started last night.
I can't promise continuous updates, but following @theonesfd would be a good start.
I can't promise continuous updates, but following @theonesfd would be a good start.
A Sign
I really wish that fate's fickle hand didn't love my asshole so much.
So, a few weeks ago, we went in to a formal wear rental place to arrange for my tux for my SIL's wedding. The woman who helped us (Beverly picked everything; I was just there for size) kept apologizing for not being able to find things as she normally worked in another location in a city about 250km from where I live.
You can guess where this is going.
Last night, I went in to pick up my tux. After longer than expected, the attendant returned and asked, "When you ordered, did you say anything about [city 250km away]?"
Fuck. Me.
For some reason, she entered in her store ID instead of the one where she sized me. (And no, it wasn't a force of habit. She had to manually override the default - the right store - to enter her store. I suspect she was worried about commission or something.)
Amazingly, I stayed calm. The only inappropriate thing I said was, in an exasperated tone, "I don't even want to go to this fucking wedding."
He said he would have it by 3pm today. I asked about contingency plans if the fit wasn't perfect. He measured me a second time and is getting multiple shirts and jackets brought in, just to be sure.
Of course, the rehearsal is at 3.45pm, and while Harry and I are not in the wedding, we're expected to be there. This means that we'll probably be late. It also means I get to preschooler-wrangle Harry while trying to fit into a monkey suit that I don't want to wear to an event I don't want to attend because Beverly and Buffy have to be there on time.
Even the universe knows this wedding is a bad idea.
So, a few weeks ago, we went in to a formal wear rental place to arrange for my tux for my SIL's wedding. The woman who helped us (Beverly picked everything; I was just there for size) kept apologizing for not being able to find things as she normally worked in another location in a city about 250km from where I live.
You can guess where this is going.
Last night, I went in to pick up my tux. After longer than expected, the attendant returned and asked, "When you ordered, did you say anything about [city 250km away]?"
Fuck. Me.
For some reason, she entered in her store ID instead of the one where she sized me. (And no, it wasn't a force of habit. She had to manually override the default - the right store - to enter her store. I suspect she was worried about commission or something.)
Amazingly, I stayed calm. The only inappropriate thing I said was, in an exasperated tone, "I don't even want to go to this fucking wedding."
He said he would have it by 3pm today. I asked about contingency plans if the fit wasn't perfect. He measured me a second time and is getting multiple shirts and jackets brought in, just to be sure.
Of course, the rehearsal is at 3.45pm, and while Harry and I are not in the wedding, we're expected to be there. This means that we'll probably be late. It also means I get to preschooler-wrangle Harry while trying to fit into a monkey suit that I don't want to wear to an event I don't want to attend because Beverly and Buffy have to be there on time.
Even the universe knows this wedding is a bad idea.
What's On My Mind
I haven't felt it in a while ("it" being inspired, or motivated, or whatever) so I'm just going to write what's on my mind right now.
The New TV Season
I only have two returning network shows, and one of them (Chuck) hasn't even started yet. (The other - Fringe - has been OK through two weeks, but hasn't been awesome.)
So, I'm trying out a bunch of new shows. I'm really enjoying Terra Nova, although I'm disappointed that the stone markings from the pilot were so easily explained; I think that could have made for some interesting plot developments. I tried The New Girl because I love Zooey Deschanel, but couldn't take the singing crap. I'm enjoying Revenge more than a man should, and Person of Interest has promise but needs to explore the mythology to hook me.
I've got Pan Am on the PVR but haven't watched either episode yet, so the jury is out on that.
The Psychotic Hose Beast My SIL
Last night around 9.30pm, the phone rang. Beverly was in bed (and had been since 8.30pm; she's been exhausted and not feeling well) and I saw it was my SIL so I left it. Five minutes later, she called again. I listened to the voicemail after that: my wife was to call her if she could. Ten minutes after that, a text: "Are you home?"
This morning at 8.00am, while Beverly was trying to get the kids fed and Buffy to the bus stop on time, my SIL called. The reason for the incessant communication attempts last night? To inform Beverly that she had located a sitter for the groom's niece and nephew.
Because that is an urgent matter. Give me strength, people.
The iPhone 4S
Seriously? Four months delay for a better CPU and camera? It took you that long to fit a chip that was the same fucking size as the one you're replacing? I am disappoint.
Potty Training
At this point, I think we need to stop everything and go fully back to diapers. He refuses to use the toilet for poo, and he pees in his underpants at random. I feel like it's become a battle, and we need to fall back and regroup, then perform a new assault.
This Blog
Like I said at the outset, I'm just not feeling it lately. I feel like since the move I've lost something in the writing. I've written some stuff I really liked only to have the response be less than inspiring. I'm beginning to wonder if the time has come to shut down.
(Don't worry; I won't leave without a formal notice. I hate it when I wait around for weeks for a new post, only to email the author and find out they gave up. When/if I quit, I'll post something here.)
The New TV Season
I only have two returning network shows, and one of them (Chuck) hasn't even started yet. (The other - Fringe - has been OK through two weeks, but hasn't been awesome.)
So, I'm trying out a bunch of new shows. I'm really enjoying Terra Nova, although I'm disappointed that the stone markings from the pilot were so easily explained; I think that could have made for some interesting plot developments. I tried The New Girl because I love Zooey Deschanel, but couldn't take the singing crap. I'm enjoying Revenge more than a man should, and Person of Interest has promise but needs to explore the mythology to hook me.
I've got Pan Am on the PVR but haven't watched either episode yet, so the jury is out on that.
Last night around 9.30pm, the phone rang. Beverly was in bed (and had been since 8.30pm; she's been exhausted and not feeling well) and I saw it was my SIL so I left it. Five minutes later, she called again. I listened to the voicemail after that: my wife was to call her if she could. Ten minutes after that, a text: "Are you home?"
This morning at 8.00am, while Beverly was trying to get the kids fed and Buffy to the bus stop on time, my SIL called. The reason for the incessant communication attempts last night? To inform Beverly that she had located a sitter for the groom's niece and nephew.
Because that is an urgent matter. Give me strength, people.
The iPhone 4S
Seriously? Four months delay for a better CPU and camera? It took you that long to fit a chip that was the same fucking size as the one you're replacing? I am disappoint.
Potty Training
At this point, I think we need to stop everything and go fully back to diapers. He refuses to use the toilet for poo, and he pees in his underpants at random. I feel like it's become a battle, and we need to fall back and regroup, then perform a new assault.
This Blog
Like I said at the outset, I'm just not feeling it lately. I feel like since the move I've lost something in the writing. I've written some stuff I really liked only to have the response be less than inspiring. I'm beginning to wonder if the time has come to shut down.
(Don't worry; I won't leave without a formal notice. I hate it when I wait around for weeks for a new post, only to email the author and find out they gave up. When/if I quit, I'll post something here.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
