Story dice!

I mentioned in my last post that I just wanted to eat pistachios and do story dice.
Well, pistachios aside, DanPar was asleep, and Crash Boy was determined to be unhappy no matter what I did, so I put him in a backpack and got to it!

So here we go!

“It’s not just the face,” James said, looking down at the interplanetary passport in his hand, “it’s that you made me Swiss.” The face in question had a list of things right about it. Brown eyes, blonde hair, pear-shaped face. The large beard and thick glasses, however, were added on to mask the fact that the card’s creator had based the face on description alone.

“Buck up, rock star,” the man in goggles responded with a large helping of patronization, without looking up from his computer, “you are Swiss. Maternal side. That’ll be three hundred.”

“I’m as Swiss as a freaking Dorito is Mexican. Besides, they speak, like, twenty languages there! Can’t you change it really quick? Just the nationality. Please. I’m in a rush.”

Rolling his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other, the man in goggles repeated, “Buck up, rock star. You said you knew five languages. That’ll be three hundred.”

Great, James thought. That’s what I get for bragging about my programming skills to a guy called “Dot EDU.” He took the money out from his wallet, and put it on the man’s monitor, stealing a glance at the screen. Divided into four quarters, he saw two security cameras, a chat room, and some shoot ‘em up videogame.

He stood there for a second, and figured the silence meant he was good to go. Walking through a small corridor, he saw a sign above a shredder, reading:

Nostalgia gets you killed.

Shred everything. ↓

 It took him a second to get the hint, before reaching into his wallet, pulling out his national ID, and dropping it in the slot. No more James Gideon, he mused. A few minutes and miscellaneous rewards cards later, he went up the stairs and opened the door above him, coming out of a farmhouse’s storm shelter.

Like after a matinee show, the daytime seemed out-of-place. The only two lights James recalled were the man’s computer screen and a string of Christmas lights. The guy was like some sort of shut-in vampire.

Suddenly, a car door slammed. James looked up, fearing that he was followed by his boss’ goons. He went pale as, beyond his worst nightmare, his boss walked towards him, her eyes piercing into his. “Crap!” he exclaimed. “Oh, crapping crap!” His mind went through every possible scenario, but there was no civilization for miles around. Including Count EDU’s lair, he thought grimly.

“James,” she said, sounding unexpectedly sympathetic. She nodded to the storm shelter “Is he still in?”

“Huh? Dot EDU? Um, yeah.”

“Great. Now listen, either I give you a ride to the spaceport and no explanation, or I give you an explanation and a hasty funeral in the cornfield. Okay?”

“I don’t...” James’ mind raced. After being on the run for days, nothing was making sense. What had he missed? “What are you doing?”

“Same as you,” she laughed, opening the shelter door. “Getting the hell off of this planet before we’re out of time.

Staring after her, he thought, Who does the bogeyman hide from?

Big rocks, sand, and beer

Years ago, probably freshman year of high school, I went surfing on the web for some good jokes. There's one I read that stuck with me:

A professor brings a large glass jar to his class, and explains, "This is your time." He proceeds to put rocks in it, until they are poking out the top. "These rocks represent what matter most to you. Your family, your work, for a small minority of you, your schoolwork. Now most of you would say that I have filled it."
The class nods, and so the professor brings out a small bag of sand. He then pours the sand into the jar, filling the cracks among the rocks. "The sand represents what you do with your free time, even when you don't think you have any. What you read, what you listen to, what you do at the end of the day when it's only you that you have to answer to. It all works to support what matters in your life."
A student raises his hand, and once he is called on, says, "You missed something, teach." He walks up to the front, reaches into his bag, and cracks open a can of beer, pouring it into the jar, where it is easily absorbed into the sand. "No matter what," he says, taking a swig, "there's always time for a beer."

Now, while the joke is there, I love the jar analogy. Considering it was over a decade ago, and it's still bouncing around in my head, it must resonate with me. And boy, that family rock is a HUGE one. It's horseplay, potty training, reading, warming milk, naming toys, making racetracks, shaking my head, pool noodle swordfighting, and in a nasty-looking offshoot of the "family" rock, it's also spraying off diapers, doing dishes, and doing laundry. It comes with the package.

Another big rock is the friend one. With lots of my friends being from college, thus being spread across the country and world, I've got to work to maintain that friendship. And where the option is often seen as "lots of distant friends vs a few close friends", I think I've got lots of close friends. It's awesome.

But man, sand. I feel like I don't have much room for sand. I wish I had more time to do things just for me. Not even indulgent things. Chelsea asked me today what I'd do with free time if I had some, and I said that I would eat pistachios and write something using story dice. Right now, my free time is either those rare spaces when the boy's naps overlap, which I use to rush my chores, and possibly get a few winks in myself, or the time when I'm feeding Baby Crash, when I'm reading on my Kindle.

All the other free time for me I feel like I have to steal from the bigger stuff. I'm sure I'm losing a few "parent points" because Daniel's watching videos on my phone right now from when we looked at bunnies this morning. But it's nice to be able to sit down and write. Heck, it's nice to be able to sit down. I like sitting down.

Mmmm...

Still working on that "sitting" thing.

His Iron Man "gloves".

Gotta take the opportunity to hang out on the swing for sale outside Soops!

Can you find the TWO bunnies???

Getting lighter!

I was big.
Really big.
I checked myself at one of those grocery store BMI doodads, and it told me, with as much tact as can be expected from a machine, "You're obese!"
Well huh.
Huh.

I could qualify it in my head as much as I could, with, "I can still run, jump, and climb as well as the average Joe" or "I'm chubby, but I'm not round or anything." But hey, I was obese, by the standard that determines if you're obese or not.

But I sure do love eating. It's a great thing to be able to do with someone is cook and eat and enjoy things. So I devised a diet, called the "Sad lonely hungry Woody diet"!

Here's the deal:
Eating is a social thing for me. I love eating with people. So, when I'm with people, eat as normal. If there's steak, eat steak. Salad? Eat salad. Mac n' cheese? Eat mac n' cheese.

But I spend most of my days just me and the boys. When it's just us, I eat a super restrictive diet, only vegetable carbs, lots of protein, and low fat.

For breakfast, I usually have coffee and protein powder. If I must, I add some powdered milk. Lunch is chicken and asparagus. Lots of chicken. Lots of asparagus. In between, I have eggs and sugar-free gum. From dawn through the afternoon, I have around 600 calories.

When Jessi comes home, we have dinner as usual (we had enchiladas last night!), and it's not uncommon for us to have a little bit of ice cream after the boys go to bed.

And it's actually working. I've lost ten pounds in the last month! It's no crash diet, no "I LOST FIFTY POUNDS IN FOUR DAYS" but I'm visibly thinner, and it's sustainable! Some days are rough, so I allow myself some cheats here and there, but it's always minor, like a few crackers, or rice and lentils, or whole milk in my coffee, or I finish the yogurt Daniel didn't finish. (Gasp!)

So, here I am. I feel good. The low carb diet always means a dip in energy, especially at the start, but I'm getting better at it. Every day I have another reason to look forward to hanging out with people, and it's very nice.

Anyways, just some brag brag about me being overweight! Not obese anymore, just overweight! And while I may never reach "normal", I'm glad that I was able to take action before things got dire!

Chock-full Saturday

"I'm hungry. I need a muffin."

Those were Daniel's first words today, coming through the monitor. They were sweet, and so indicative of how old that boy is getting!

Soon we found all four of us around the breakfast table, batting back and forth the most common phrase on a Saturday in a married household, "So, what do you want to do today?"

It seemed like we were just going to spend the day indoors, until...honestly, I don't know what happened. Something must have. Because before long, we were going out for mini pizzas, buying wine, having a picnic at the park, running around watching kids play baseball, heading to Grandma and Papa's house to see Binbint, playing in a sandbox, reluctantly playing in sprinklers, splashing in a kiddy pool, and having a big steak dinner before coming home.

Now I can barely believe it's not Sunday, considering how chock-full we packed this day. As we dropped DanPar into bed, ass rightfully kicked, he hugged Jessi's old teddy bear and said,

"Hi, Big Bear. Daniel loves you."

1 of me, 2 of them

It used to be just DanPar and me, up until the last few months. It's one of the strangest feelings I've ever felt, seeing that you are no longer as much of a friend as you are a parent.

We'd go out and about, laughing, playing, talking, and when Crash Boy was born, he'd just come along with. But the outing was centered around Daniel and me.

It's changed now.

At Walmart, DanPar will ask me to take Baby Crash out to look at the fish. When the little little guy is napping, Daniel will try and sneak in his room to wake him up. And he loves picking out jammies for his little brother, and still celebrates when he rolls over, even though he's been doing that for months now.

 And I know it's all good, and all healthy, and when I tear up thinking about it, it's because I'm so happy with how these boys are growing up. It's just still a little sad, because my job is not so much "friend" as it is "friend-maker". I set out areas where they can play with the same toys. Daniel gives his little brother a rotation of Duplos for him to chew on, while he commands me to make steps out of blocks for him to roll doomed Duplos down. DanPar gives Crash books to read, and waits patiently to the side as I read them to Baby Crash, before telling me to read them again.

I will sacrifice my own time to go outside, pick up the sticks he's thrown, and scatter them on one side of the yard, because Daniel loves to go find them over and over again, every day, and show them to Crash Boy.
These boys are good boys. And even though it isn't just the two of us anymore, and it's not exactly going to be the three of us until they're older, I like to picture the two of them together, happy, while I wrap large arms around them, fostering fraternal love.
Perhaps the sweetest moment was a couple weeks ago, when Daniel was going to bed, and as we picked up Crash Boy from the pillow reserved for giving him hugs and kisses, Daniel said, "Baby Crash loves Daniel."
They're growing up. It doesn't feel fast, not yet, but it's an inevitable process that I know we're all going to go through, no matter what.

I am reminded of a famous tweet in my circles. "Please go play with your brother. That's basically the reason we had him."

Night Intruder

Last week was a rough week for the kids. Crash had started teething, and even with Tylenol, he was waking up often. DanPar was using the opportunity, while we were at our weakest, to convince us that he'd be fine if we just put on some movies...

Horsey movie

Balloon movie

And that came with its own consequences. He could be set off by a single word, and start fussing over watching a movie. It was an exhausting week, and when things started settling down, I was used to waking up at least a couple times per night, per kid.

And then came Thursday. I got up, stood next to the bed for a full minute, working up the resolve to go take care of Mr. Par, and finally walked into his room. Only problem was, he wasn't even awake. Somehow, in the order of: 1) hear child crying, 2) get up, 3) regret everything, and 4) go take care of child, I had skipped #1.

So, I walked in, with no pretense of sneaking in, and Daniel lifted his sweet head up. "Dad," he said, sleepily, and then in a chipper tone, "Hi."
After I'd realized my mistake, I smiled, and sat down next to him. "Hey, kiddo." A pause. "Um, need a change?"
With a slow, happy, voice, "Daniel's okay."
"Well, all right." Another pause. "Need some more milk?"
Pause again. "Yeah."
"All right. I'll be right back."

So I got him his milk, tucked him back in, and kissed him on his head. "I love you, Daniel."
"I love you, Dad."

The memory still makes me smile, because being dumb made my night. I'd been spending so much time getting up and worrying, it was a great change of pace to get up in the middle of the night, and instead of being frustrated, feeling blessed with the family I have around me. When I went back down to bed, I kissed Jessi's hair, and whispered, "I love you."
And she whispered back, "I love you, too."

:)

I've got a sweet little family.

Rise, Shine, You People

Ages. It's been ages since I've been to church.
But this morning, Crash and Jessi were both asleep, DanPar and I were up, and I knew every moment with that loud boy (and his loud dad) in the house was risking waking up the rest of the household.
So you know what? It's Sunday. I'm Christian. Let's go to church!

I chose the closest one with the earliest service, which happened to be a Lutheran church nearby. (I was also able to get the Pokestop outside!) I was nervous, for a couple reasons:

1, classic, I hadn't been in a while. There's some sort of shame involved, but I knew it was dumb, so I muscled through it. While keeping an open ear for Crash, just in case "Oh no he's up guess I'm staying here."
2, I'd never been to a Lutheran church before, and while I was pretty confident DanPar could get away with wearing a nice jacket over his Avengers pajamas, all I'd been able to scrape up from our clean laundry was a golf shirt and a pair of jeans (with only one stain!)

But there's no chance I'd let #2 get to me, because if the Screwtape Letters taught me anything, it's that you don't need to follow every tenet of a church in order to attend and feel that divine belonging.
So with a wet hand through the hair, one last check on Crash to be eeeeeextra sure he was asleep (he was, dang,) we headed out.

The closer we got, the more real everything became. Over the last year, I'd come to think of religious folk as a voting bloc, thinking of them less as a group I was certainly a part of, and more of a tangle of politics and personal ethics. Before turning into the parking lot, I nearly turned off to find a nice  McDonald's to take DanPar, because I was overflowing with concerns. What do Lutherans think about gay marriage? How do they tend to side on racial issues? Are they active in the homeless community?

But by the time the car stopped, I was ready for church. Religion is a weird thing. I follow the idea of "You are not a body with a soul. You are a soul. You have a boy." (Not CS Lewis. Hard to find the origin.) And I could tell this was going to be good for me. So, deer in headlights, I walked in, trying to take everything in. Okay, everyone's wearing jeans. Cool. What the, is that a little thing of holy water? Mmkay, no problem, just pass it. Oh crap, the pastor's wearing a robe? That's a thing in protestant denominations? Well, the pastor's a woman, so that's neat.

The poor usher. I gushed everything to him. Confessed full ignorance, shared my worry that we were underdressed, and told him the only reason I came was because it was open early. I probably went a little far, but he gave me a big smile, and said, "Well, I'm glad you came. And we're not going to turn you away because you're not wearing a tie."

That's what made it all come back. The small-church churchgoers that were never anything but glad that you were there. It was like God nudged me and gave me a wink. It was all good. Good to have you here today.

Daniel was the loudest kid at the service, but not because he was sad or angry. He just told me in his normal volume (THIS IS HIS NORMAL VOLUME) all about the red car, about drinking milk, about Santa. But, and this was weird, the thing he said the most was, "Bless you, Dad." You can call me superstitious all you want, but I've already admitted to believing in an all-powerful magical being, so yeah. It was sweet of him, and in a way, it was comforting to hear it. I still had God's blessing, I hadn't fallen out of His favor, and it continues to remind me of powerful lyrics:

And if our God is for us, then who could ever stop us?
And if our God is with us, then what can stand against?

One last note: Today, Daniel had his first communion. (The bread and wine thing.) I know that's a big deal to some people, so there you have it. After the bread, he asked if he could have pizza. That's my boy.