Time flies.

I really don't update this thing often enough. But there are a ton of things that I don't do often enough. Write. Tell people that I love them. Get 8 full hours of sleep. Eat salads whatever anyway you get it.

The lack of updates would make one assume that nothing is happening. This would be a very, very wrong assumption. Kids never rest.

And neither do Vanessa and I. We had another kid... Two years ago. So. Yeah. A little behind on updates. Whoops.

Anyway, Jack is two now, Matt just turned 6, Lilly will be 5 tomorrow and Em's gonna be 4 before I know it. Which means that we are just shy of having been parents for five full years (yes, those numbers are correct). And I still don't have my head wrapped around it at all. I love it, mostly, and they're amazing, except when they're not, which isn't often. 

Here's an example of Jack being amazing. It's bedtime. Baths have been taken, pajamas put on and a bedtime story read ("Theodore the Flying Mouse," a Little a Golden book that belonged to Vanessa). We're working on kissing the girls goodnight and tucking them in. While Vanessa finishes that, I go into the boys room and Jack is standing by his bed. He hands me a couple books to put into said bed and then says, "wrap me up." I ask him if he's ready and he says, "yeah," in his little, adorable voice.

So I wrap him up, he says, "baby," which means "Rock A-bye Baby," so I sing it, kiss him and put him in bed. And he's out before I put a blanket on him.

Here's why this is amazing: at two he has the presence of mind to know that he's tired and ready to go to sleep. I'm 31 and half the time I'm like, "I'm tired, I wonder what's on the internet now!" It's just an amazing little thing.

Here's another example. If you say "nap," he knows that means bedtime and he is not always game for that. So we would trick him by saying, "let's go change your diaper!" and then throwing him into his crib after that. Now any time you suggest a diaper change, he says, "I'm happy!" 

"Jack, do you have a poopy butt?"

"I'm happy!"

While it's not a correct response, it's hilarious. When you take him to change that inevitably poopy butt (this kid shits a lot), he just repeats, "I'm not tired," and, "no bed," until you put him down. Vanessa claims she's never heard the "I'm happy" business and that's too bad. It's great.

Anyway. This kid is two and he's smarter than a lot of the adults I know.

Vague freak out.

A thing happened the other day and it freaked me out. 

That's pretty vague, right? Well that's kind of what parenting is all about. 

This specific thing was a text message from Vanessa while I was at work. "Taking Jack to the ER. Can you join me." That sounds equally terrifying and nonchalant. No follow up to be like, "he fell down the stairs and has a bone sticking out of his leg" or "he got stung by a bee and is swelling up." Nothing. Just "taking your child to the ER. May or may not be dying."

So I ran the hell out of work. 

With the information I had prior to this text message, I should have been able to piece together what was going on. Jack had been treated for croup earlier in the week. A dose of meds earlier in the week. He had still seemed kind of sickly but not terribly so--just grumpier than normal. Vanessa had mentioned that he had puked that morning as well. 

So I should have figured it was croup rented and he was likely ok. But I fucking panicked. Whoa boy did I ever. I was madman on the highway. 

As it turns out, unnecessarily. They x-rayed his lungs, determined that he looked fine, gave him a once over and sent us packing. Jack still seems a little grumpy but he is my son...

Return of the Living Dad.

Everyone tells you that being a parent is difficult. 

But they never tell you how difficult that is, exactly. And even if they were like, "It's really, really hard. Harder than you could ever imagine," you still would have no idea how hard that truly is. 

The thing is, they don't tell you what is hard. It's not so much the day to day stresses of being a parent--feeding and clothing your mini-mes. Not to say that is always easy but there are more difficult things. And most of them, you are never prepared to handle. 

One would be having a child diagnosed with special needs. That term instantly makes you think of a kid with Downs Syndrome or any other form of handicap where you can look at someone and say, "Yep. They're different."

But there are so many others. ADHD and ODD are two. One is probably familiar to you. The other probably not as much. Both are subject to debate and often those debates are capped by someone saying, "That child just needs a firm hand," or something similar. 

They are so incredibly wrong. 

ODD is a difficult thing to understand. It stands of Oppositional Defiant Disorder. A super simple explanation would be:

"Matthew, take a cookie."

"No!"

And the truth is that obviously Matt wants a cookie--who doesn't want a cookie? But because you're telling him to, he's not going to do it. 

And holy shit does that make things difficult. Not just at home. In public places like restaurants and grocery stores. Or in classrooms. You're seconds away from a colossal meltdown every place you go. Couple that with a lack of impulse control thanks to the ADHD and you've got a hell of a volatile situation. 

But the point of this isn't to frighten you. Or to complain about my son. Because while ODD sounds a little terrifying when you read about it, Matthew is not his diagnosis. 

He's a beautiful, sweet boy. He's smart like I never thought a five year old could be. He wants to hug everyone and give them kisses. He wants absolutely nothing more than to make everyone happy. He just can't. 

But I will never give up on him. I will believe in him until my dying day. I don't care how hard it gets or how much I have to fight--with, for and against him--I will always be there. 

Right now Matt sees a counselor every other week to understand why he feels the way he does. He takes medication for his ADHD. He's in speech therapy to help him vocalize his emotions better. I take him to all of these appointments. And it's hard--hard to see my child struggle with things that seem to come so easily. It hurts. I think about his future every day. I wonder if he will be OK. For a lot of parents, that worry is much simpler. And I kind of envy them. 

But then I get to kiss Matt goodnight or snuggle with him on the couch. His little bony elbows poking me, feeling him breathe. Right then, right there, everything is perfect. My child is special. Because he's mine. 

Small things.

Emmy's teething. Those things are SHARP. When she clamps down, it hurts--a lot. But it's really cute to with her try desperately to get things to her mouth.

The other night, Lilly was sitting on my lap, stroking my overgrown face stubble. My heart literally melted. Today, she was chillng in her diaper, watching Yo Gabba Gabba and saying "Hi" to all of the characters. Then, she was blowing kisses to strangers in Target.

Matt makes me laugh endlessly. He has a new habit of labeling everything as mommy, daddy and baby. He also refuses to wear any shoe without a "man" on it. He has some Transformers shoes and refused to wear the nice dress shoes we bought him for his school Crustmas party. He also loved the creepy gingerbread man that visited. It was cuh-reepy.

It has been an intense, amazing year. I can't wait for next year.

Grief.

Not a lot of people knew this, but Vanessa was pregnant. Not a lot of people new this because it was very recent. Only a few weeks. This baby was planned and a welcome addition to our home. We were so excited.

But that excitement has turned to extreme sadness. On Sunday night, Vanessa started bleeding. We went to the hospital where they drew blood, had her pee in a cup, did a cervical exam and an internal ultrasound. All done just so that they could send us home with a prescription for another blood test in two days and nothing in the way of answers.

So we waited. Then, on Tuesday, we took a blood test only to be told that the results wouldn't be available until the next day. So we waited again.

Then we finally got the call. Her levels were lower. There was no baby anymore. Vanessa had miscarried.

After three days of waiting and hoping and giving up and returning to hope and then giving up again the end result was anticlimactic. There was no surge of emotion, no tears. Just more emptiness and numbness. Truthfully, I don't know how to feel or what to do. I lack motivation to do anything except sit. Life is zooming by all around me and I have no inclination to join the world.

I'm sad. I wanted another baby. I love being a dad. It is, without a doubt, the greatest thing to happen to me. I love my kids so much. And the idea of having another little one to snuggle against my chest, roll on the ground with, teach to brush their teeth, all of the stuff that comes with being a parent, it absolutely thrilled me. This, more than anything, is something that I was born to do. I'm good at it. They make me better.

And now I feel like I've been robbed of it.

People might say that we're over-reacting, that this was hardly a baby. I call bullshit on that. This was MY baby. In my heart, they weren't just a thing, they were my child. And losing a child is an awful thing.

I'm scared to move on. I'm scared to try again.

I can be strong. I can be brave. We will survive this.

*tumbleweeds*

So, I have been gently reminded several times that it has been awhile since I have updated.

Well, I have been busy. EXCUSE ME.

Nah, sorry. I feel bad. I have had a bunch of stuff going on, a lot of it that would be incredibly relevant to this blog, but I just haven't sat down to update. Gonna try and correct that right now. Biggest thing?

Vanessa and I finally have full legal custody of Matt. This is huge. This is the culmination of two years of pain, heartbreak and frustration. Getting custody was not easy. First, there was a huge battle with bio-mom. She was so convinced that she would get custody and was so angry at us that she fought us tooth and nail. It was ugly. We walked away a couple of times. It was one of the most emotional times of my life and I don't ever want to go through anything like it ever again.

But things finally came around and my parent's got custody of Matt. There's a good reason for this: they have money. Vanessa and I aren't homeless, nor are we broke, but we're not buying gold-plated anythings anytime soon. It was easier for the courts and CSB if my parents and custody. So they got it and Vanessa and I did the muscle work.

And then came Em. That was super simple. Emotional and painful but in completely different ways. And overall, simple. Just paperwork. Which is what it finally boiled down to with Matt as well. We filed some paperwork, paid some fees and waited.

The letter was non-descript. Just like any other letter addressed to me. But when I pulled the papers out, they looked distinctly like court documents. Realization was immediate and profound. I fucking cried like a baby. In my heart, Matt has always been my son and I didn't care what anyone else thought. Still, the official label was important. Now, I don't have to explain it to anyone. Matt is my son is my son is my son. All day, every day.

It was a great day. I love my kids. I love my family. And now, we're officially completely a real family.

A Couple of Brief Lists.

Things I Love:
1.) Snuggling--there's nothing like a warm baby head cozying itself into your chest.
2.) Wrestling--babies like to wrestle and get physical and the laughter that they unleash is better than any high you get chemically.
3.)The Laughs--I know that I just mentioned them, but I thought it worth mentioning again.
4.) Sleeping--in their beds, the car, my arms, whatever, this is the most amazing thing in the world. Ever tear is forgotten, every headache, whatever, it's all washed away. If you ever want to see absolute peace, watch a baby sleep.
5.) The Smiles--especially in little, teeny, tiny babies. Em's smile is wonderful.

Things I Don't Love:
1.) Diapers--in general, I don't mind them. But at a certain point, every baby wants to fight having them changed. This leads to poop (never pee) on feet, hands, the floor and pretty much anywhere else you don't want it.
2.) The Inability to Speak--hearing as they get new words is pretty awesome. Waiting for those words is difficult. They can scream all they want, I still don't know what it means.
3.) The Fights--babies are hard headed. It just happens that way. They don't mean to be, but sometimes babies are full on assholes. Yep, I said it. This usually happens when they want thing A and you want thing B and there's no type of compromise. Negotiating with a infant? Impossible.