Our president made CHANGE the center of his campaign. I have talked about it much lately, too. It is an inevitable thing. We cannot avoid it. Change comes to us all in many forms and many connotations. In less than two weeks I will embark on yet another change in my life. I’ve seen numerous changes to my life in the last two years, and perhaps the best has been the addition of Jacob into it. He is an absolute joyful son and each day with him has been a blessing.

Now the hard part is coming….letting go a bit. In September I go back to work full time and Jacob will be enrolled in nursery school three mornings a week. The rest of the time he will be with my amazing mother and another fantastic woman, Valerie, a mother of four boys, all grown. Of course, my mother-in-law will help plenty, as well. She is terrific and Jacob loves both his grandmothers so much. This was the best we could do for the first five months of the school year. Bridget and I wanted to ease the little man into school and also allow him to keep his nap schedule. Again we are lucky to have great support - even if we have to pay for some of it.

CHANGE is upon us all in many good ways, but I know I will feel a huge pang of sadness at letting go of the best two years of fatherhood - staying home with Jacob. I have bonded with my son and he has done the same with me, but I somehow feel he will be more resilient. Ironic, isn’t it? He’s two and a half and I am thirty one, but he is better equipped at letting go. How did that happen?

The newest and best news I have to offer is that Bridget and I are expecting again. Yes, it’s true and you can feel free to send a congratulations our way if you feel inclined. That CHANGE will be here in February. Until then, Jacob will be telling all who will listen, “I’m going to be a big brother.”

Resist. Multiply. Accept CHANGE because what is the alternative?

I recently read this article about Obama’s view of what a father is and should be. Click here to read it for yourself. As we approach Father’s Day remember it is probably still one of the most important jobs in America - especially when the economy is bad.

Happy Father’s Day to all you dads and dads to be!

Resist. Multiply. Spend half the money and twice the time with your child(ren).

Details to come, all of them, but for now, know that Stella and I are at the hospital.  She is 8 cm dialted.  Wow!  It actually seems like I know what I’m talking about.  ‘Wish us luck!

Owen here, writing, presenting before the good communal people of Tribe.  Honestly, by this time of August, the 15th, I thought, or I eagerly hoped I would be posting pictures of little Verde, and reporting on the recovery of Stella, and the chaotic adulation I felt for both her and the very, very new baby of ours, but, nope, we patiently wait, some of us exercising more patience than others.  I’m done with this; Stella has the patience, emotional durability of a monk, but I tend to lean towards the mental, spiritual proclivities of a poet.  Hence, the drinking and irritability that have filled my recent August days.  The weight of waiting is beginning to get a bit heavy.  Stella, friends and family tell me
“We’re almost there.”.  Never have I lingered in the “almosts”, “maybe’s”, and “sometimes” of life.  My palette really doesn’t host the shade of grey, so lately, it’s been a haul and a half.

In my mind I’ve walked to Jerusalem and back, looking for the circling falcon, hoping, and praying not to see it.  Literary allusion - check it. I want my child to live with the potential for a peaceful, grounded, sentient existence that has a long, far reaching future, setting precedence for perhaps an immoral spiritual, bodiless journey that will eventually run out of energy and settle in another incarnation of Stella and myself, decades, generations to come.  Lately, In my mind I’ve sailed the seven seas with my soon to be son or daughter, pointing out the diverse creatures that weave the fabric of maritime existence; I’ve pointed to the setting sun, peacefully exploding something beautiful, descending brilliantly off the bow of our metaphysical craft leaving a white, subtle wake in the dark blue imagined waters behind us.

Lately, I’ve been contemplating all of those people who have passed, who meant so much to Stella and I.  Where did their energy go?  I’ve been in the rooms of dying people, and there is a tangible, feel it in the marrow of your bones, shift of power when they pass.   That energy had to go somewhere.  Perpetual motion is a law, a basic principle of science, and a cornerstone of physics.  Physics son, physics.  Perhaps, some of that energy transferred into loved ones.  Maybe, just maybe it reconfigured itself in Stella and I, therefore, eventually, transcending time and place and settling into the molecular ladder that is the heart and soul of our unborn child.  If this Friday morning theory of mine proves to be correct, well, then our baby boy or girl will be in good standing then.  Stella and I have known some great people who offered a lot to those who breathed the same air as them, shared meals, and late night laughs that lingered into early morning cups of coffee with steam rising, allowing vapors to shape the congenial mood of the love shared.  These fine friends and family members had tremendous attributes that now burn immortal in the novel eyes of the child growing in Stella.

Over the past nine months a lot of energy has been allotted, taken, and transferred between Stella, myself, and the life in her womb.  A lot of fuel was burned by my overactive imagination and sage in progress soul.  If the body is just a mere vessel transporting precious cargo, the soul, throughout life experiences then I’m ready to harbor, stock up on essentials, and welcome aboard the newest crewmen to the decks, Stella’s nine month passenger.  Boy or girl? Place your bets.

Speak to you Monday, or maybe not, take no offense, hopefully not.  I hope to be in the hospital with Stella and the baby, basking in the glow and the responsibility of it all.

Que tenga un buen el fin de semana.

Here is the most recent communique between Mr.XXXX and myself.  It really all is in the timing.

Owen,
Thanks for getting back to me. The offer is for this year.
We had a teacher lined up for 4th / 5th, but they backed out.  I saw your resume and said “There’s my man!!!” So, we have the job for you!

I will keep you in mind for next year. Please keep in touch. Thanks for considering us. I wish you and your wife all the best with your new baby!

Congratulations Dad and Mom!!!

Best regards,
Mr. XXXX

Tomorrow: No News, Enfermo, As Promised-Karaoke/The Movie

Resist. Multiply.

Owen, my friend, your life is going to change a lot in the next few weeks.  You are already in the thick of change (more so than Mr. Obama would speak about in his bid for president), and it is obvious to me that I should impart some lessons I learned right after the baby came (15 short months ago).

Don’t take this as a didactic speech about the perils of fatherhood or the impending doom you may feel as your life takes on a new meaning.  It is not meant to scare you, brother.  I simply want to share with you a few good things I learned along the way.  If you recall, you learned the hard way when you ate a pregnant Stella’s dessert a few weeks ago.

First off, being a father is the second best thing to happen to me.  That may sound weird, but it is true.  The first best thing was meeting my wife, falling in love with her, marrying her, and then getting to “try” for weeks upon weeks to make the baby (Jacob) we all know and love.  Collectively, that will always be number one in my book, and the close second will be the first time I held my son – because I knew at that point I was a dad.

The easiest part of fatherhood during the pregnancy stage (with the first child at least) is the fact that you can still keep your married life somewhat normal and routine.  Sure there is the obvious bump your wife will be sporting for nine months, but you can still do a lot of the things that married couples do.  For example, you can go out whenever you want, eat in restaurants, take day trips or mini-vacations, lay in bed all day and watch movies, and just sleep late.  These things will end for some time when the baby comes.  Don’t worry you will be able to work them back into the routine in a few months if you are lucky.  (Make sure you set up good support systems with the in-laws and your parents.  They will be happy to help with enough notice.)

That may sound grim, but it is an honest truth that accompanies a baby being born.  Your job will be to provide food, shelter, comfort, and lots of diaper changes.  Don’t forget that childbirth is traumatic for your wife, your child, and you.  Be sure to rest when that little bundle of joy is resting.  Stay off the computer, the phone, or any other device during those down times.  Lie down and relax.  Your wife and child will need you fresh all day long.

Also, make sure you ask your wife if there is anything you can do to help.  This has nothing to do with D.M.S., but rather it is the human thing to do.  Many times there will be nothing you can help with.  If she is breast-feeding, she covers that part and you cannot really add anything substantial.  Regardless, get up with her at 2 a.m. and change that kid’s diaper.  She will appreciate your company and your assistance.

Keep in mind, your real work has just begun.  Having the baby is easy in comparison to raising that child.  Make sure you always remember that.  You will need to give up certain parts of yourself for a little while.  No more living for just yourself and Stella.  Make sure you take good care of you – your child is going to want you around for many years to come.  I know this is not really an issue for you because you are super healthy and conscious of that, but some guys out there need to reevaluate things before that baby appears.  You know who you are.

Lastly, enjoy every moment of it.  Take tons of pictures, keep a journal, or tape the mundane stuff that happens.  You will look back on these first months with a real sense of accomplishment.  After all, your first job is to keep that little baby alive – in a short period of time he or she will become loads of fun and all your hard work will be worth it.

You are going to make a great father, Owen.  Love Stella just a little bit more with each day, and you’ll get through the toughest parts with a smile and lots of kisses from your wife.  You are a lucky man and I wish you well in this new journey.

Good luck, my friend.

Tomorrow: Owen’s Rebuttal & The Dark Knight

Resist. Multiply.

There are many things, such as, personality traits, physical characteristics, and life lessons learned that I proudly want to pass onto my soon to be son, or daughter.  However, there is one genetic trait I hope and pray definitively doesn’t make it’s way into his or her DNA make up, continuing a harsh family genetic link.

It comes often.  Too often.  It stays for long periods of time.  Too long.  When it comes it is hungry, and it will feed on anything you give it.  It’s diet is not picky or finicky, but its appetite is ferocious and it will eat you whole.  After fed on, you are left in a dark hole with nothing left, nothing, but the task of rebuilding yourself once again.

It will return; it will always be back.  It is inevitable; the beast is part of me.  It is my depression and my anxiety that has manifested itself into a metaphysical 500 lb. Silverback Gorilla existing in my own psyche jungle.

Here are a few literal statistics to get a grasp of what I’m dealing with. Gorillas are the largest living primates. A mature male gorilla can be over 6 feet tall and weigh 300 to 500 pounds. He can spread his arms 8 feet across and is as powerful as 4 to 8 strong men.  Statistics, background information, are necessary before going into the ring, or waging a battle of any sort.  The war that I have been fighting has been a life long one, and I’ve assigned a symbolic animal to my enemy.  For me, to add a bitter sense of humor and glory to the struggle, a Silverback Gorilla is my depression and anxiety.

I’m 37 years old, and I know the Gorilla’s capabilities and physical prowess.  We’ve gone many rounds for many years.  In the beginning the Gorilla kicked much ass, and handed out some serious beat downs.  Sporadic months, adding up to years were loss in the ring.  In my twenties, I started fighting back, but I didn’t know my way around the ring, and knew nothing of jabs, crosses, and footwork.  I was battling more off of anger and frustration, pure survival driven chemistry.  I had no skills.

Luckily, in my late twenties I sought professional help. Eventually, the sparring coach, still working off of the boxing metaphor, taught me some techniques, some skills, some cognitive therapy that fine tuned my fight game.  The shrink, the therapist, the guru, whatever you want to deem mental health professionals, enabled me to develop my jab, my cross. Now, I can throw combinations, even some hooks, and a wicked uppercut.  Footwork, frees me up to stick and move, and avoid direct confrontations with the powerful Silverback Gorilla that is my life long opponent.

Presently, well into my thirties, I can handle my own in the ring.  Ironically, I’ve grown to admire and respect the Silverback Gorilla that sits on my shoulders, feeds in my mind, and rests in my heart.  The lifelong battling has made me who I am today, scar tissue and all.  I’m a lot tougher than I look.  At certain times, particularly stressful periods in my life, for example, the slow waiting for the birth of my child, the bell rings more often, and some of the bouts are 10 round slug fests, leaving me and the Gorilla exhausted.  After these matches, we embrace and compliment one another’s fighting skills, drive and stubbornness.  I’m going nowhere, and neither is he.  It’s genetic; family members, two to three generations removed have dealt with depression and anxiety.  I wonder if they ever assigned an animal to symbolize their dread?

Several weeks away from Stella’s due date I now prostrate on hands and knees, begging the universe to not pass on my genetic propensity for severe anxiety and chronic depression, leaving the Gorilla in the ring with me.  Enough Verde blood has been shed already.  Never, do I want my child to have to slide on gloves, bite down on a mouthpiece and need to practice the skills of cognitive fighting.  Never.

Primero Side Note - Actually, I love Silverback Gorillas.  They are beautiful mammals, three genes separated from homo erectus, us.  They are gentle giants, and peaceful vegetarians.  It’s a travesty what is happening to them and their natural habitats.  Research.

Segundo Side Note - More thanks to Dr. Hob and his infinite knowledge of alternative medicine and herbs.  Due to his suggestions, St. Jon’s Wort to battle depression and a concoction of numerous herbs to combat anxiety I have never taken a traditional, pharmaceutical antidepressant.  Thanks Hob!

Tomorrow: Karaoke Mike Goes International, Don Peligroso

Working backwards…This afternoon, while watching the Euro Cup Final with brother Totally, friends Zippy and Calvin I drank a lot of German beer, Hacker Pschorr. I drank this fine beer to show my support for and unity with the national German team who played Spain for the championship. Unfortunately, the fine football players from Germany did not feel our backing, regardless of the amount of German brew that was consumed, and there was a lot of it zestfully swallowed down. Espana ganaron 1 – 0.

What?
This flattering photo is taken from the match. This fine gentleman is a player for the victorious Spanish team. What he is doing, well, I have no idea. Granted, I drank a lot of beer, but I don’t think that matters. Perhaps, it’s a Spanish secret weapon, a self -sacrificing move to distract the German players. It worked. Spain won, Germany lost. Perhaps, this self-inflicted wedgie is the reason Spain is the European Football Champions. Maybe, it’s a groundbreaking fashion statement that will take months to make its way over to the states. Maybe, just maybe, he has a wicked case of hemorrhoids and needed some ventilation to ease the burn. His face does look pained, intense, in need of immediate relief. What’s your take on it?

Possible photo blurb: ”Ay Dios mio, there is a bullfight in my briefs, and this matador needs a bathroom, a shower, and baby powder, in that exact order. Ay Dios mio.”

The Warehouse
Stella is due August 19th. We’re going to have a new ‘roomie very soon. He, or she already started moving in by forwarding their furniture, stroller, and clothes to our beloved home. My office, a bastion for ‘dudedom is now a warehouse, housing goods for an infant. The take over has begun. I’m going down swinging, my basement is now my bastion from which I will eternally battle D.M.S. It’s a bit muggy, and dark, but all revolutions started from the underground.

Tomorrow: Tim Russert - Fathers and Sons
Resist. Multiply.

Owen up on the mic, about to wreck sh%#!

Stella and I are on a budget. When it comes to money, well, I’m terrible. Stella, thankfully, is very smart with it. She realizes it is a powerful tool that has definitive uses and damaging misuses. My expertise lies with the misuses.

“Eat, Drink and Be Merry” is how I once conducted myself. Eating costs money, drinking costs even more money, especially if you do it in style, and merriment requires a lot of currency.

With a little one on the way, the tool that is money needs to be used much more effectively, so Stella assumed the role of treasurer for the growing Verde Corporation. It was not part of a hostile take over, but a friendly acquisition. To be quite frank with the tribe, I’m glad. The credits are increasing, and the debits are decreasing in the Verde Corporation ledger. I works’ real hard for my c.r.e.a.m. (cash rules everything around me – Wu Tang, son, Wu Tang), and I want my c.r.e.a.m. to works’ hard for me.

Eating is a necessity, especially for a ravenous pregnant woman, drinking is also a necessity, especially for the tribesmen living with the volatile Buddha belly.
A fine mead, a Guinness will bring yin to yang, or yang to yin in any ‘interesting’ domestic situation, or at least settle one’s nerves. So, this leaves merriment open for change. A lot of lifestyle changes have been made. Most of the changes, well, plain and simple, suck. They are far too numerous to go into, but one difference is exceptional and embraced, movie watching.

Netflix is a godsend. For just 10 clams a month, Stella and I can see four to five movies in a four-week period. One visit to the movies would cost us over $30, just one movie! Now, when I come home from laboring all day I leaf through the mail, searching for the regal red envelope that is our new Netflix movie. I’m ten years old again, digging for my birthday cards, or holiday cards. Money saved – solid budgeting – merriment, at least the visual kind is still in tact.

For me, Netflix is my new holy grail, and my movie queue(personal wish list) is visited often with a lot of enthusiasm. Next up on the queue: There Will Be Blood

Thought - Daniel Day Lewis and the guy who played Ralph The Malph on Happy Days both file ‘actor’ as their profession on their income taxes. They’re in the same profession. Are we all really created equal?

Tribesmen, Nos vemos de pronto.