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“Remember why you came and while you’re alive to experience the warmth before you go”

– Incubus “The Warmth”

I struggle on most days with my responsibilities at home. Parenthood is very difficult for me and something I feel like I’m getting worse at with each passing day. There are times when I get unreasonably irritable, times when my frustration doesn’t match the occasion.

For what it is worth, no one really helps me with it. There isn’t a single person in my life trying to help me be a better parent, or even help me ease the difficulties of it. Now, that isn’t to say people don’t help out, even a lot. We get a ton of support in terms of daily babysitting or even if we have something we want or need to do. Our children are always welcome and in good hands and we have a lot of options. But what I am talking about is not that type of help. I don’t mean take the kids off my hands for some time help. I mean emotional support. I mean clearing my head kind of support. I mean relieving stress and learning to avoid it kind of support.


I think you pretty quickly find out what type of parent you are going to be. While you don’t really need to discipline a kid for a couple years, and that is a large portion of what type of parent you are, you can look at your interactions and figure out who you are pretty early.

It turns out that I’m the type of parent that likes to push my kids.

When Jocelyn was born I had read a lot about how holding your child in different positions, and especially laying them on their stomach and making them look around, could really develop their spatial awareness. The science isn’t exact, of course, and a lot of people believe that this is just a head-start and all kids will eventually reach average perception regardless. However, my opinion is simply “why not do it?” I gotta play with this kid anyway, let’s work on stuff too.

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I took my sleeping pill, Trazadone, for the first time in months yesterday.

The decision came before Jocelyn had her several meltdowns I mentioned in the last blog. I was actually planning on taking one on the night of her first meltdown. It was one of the first things I told my wife when I got home from work. But alas, Jocelyn had other plans.

The great part: I slept through the night.


Not more than a couple hours ago I found myself lying face down on the living room sofa, face in my hands, crying harder than I have cried in a very long time.

I cried that way for maybe fifteen minutes, but I had just come from my daughter’s bedroom where I had been lying next to her while she slept. I was holding her, kissing her head, and crying then as well.

Tonight was the second consecutive night of extreme tantrums lasting several hours.


I wrote this in the middle of July. I never really finished it, which is why I never published it, but I suppose now is an appropriate time. The top half of this is old, the bottom is new, you’ll get it.

As I write this, my wife is 38 weeks pregnant. This is the furthest along she has ever been, since my daughter was born during the 37th week of pregnancy.

The last time around I was pretty much a trainwreck. And we were not prepared at all. Thankfully it happened on a weekend, and just blocks from my house, so it was easy to roll with the punches. But the major difference is that this time around I feel much better. I’m nothing but excited for this baby. I know what it takes to raise an infant. I remember how frustrating and difficult it was but I know I can handle it better now. I am worried about how my current daughter will be, especially since right now we are not good friends. But it will be what it will be. I’m much more laid back this time around.


Life with a kid is hard. And I’m not very good at it.

Just about nightly my daughter wants or needs something vital, like nourishment, which I simply cannot provide.

Even when it comes to play time, I am hardly adequate at giving her what she wants. I feel as if she hates me for this. It is clear she loves her mother more. And when in crowds she will recognize me and warm my heart as she wants to be with me, but it is fleeting at best. I’m just the best of what’s around.

It extends beyond my daughter. This is a feeling I get around a lot of my family, especially my in-laws.

Normally, I’m able to command a room. I’m the funny one, according to my friends, and I’m certainly the loud and vulgar one. I have no problem making my attention known. But at family parties with my in laws I simply cannot do it. I don’t know if it is simply a different dynamic, younger crowd, my anxiety, but I simply melt into the background. And it doesn’t really matter which side of the family I am with. On the one side I am simply ignored by the people I want to relate to the most and on the other I am overshadowed despite having equal if not superior skills to those who woo the crowd. I attribute it to her family being so large; no one commands the room, really. But it is difficult for me to be out of my element.

Work is no different. I have the ability to dominate every conversation but I am rarely asked to join and when I insert myself it feels forced so I refrain. The obvious conclusion is that I’ve dominated too many conversations to be asked to partake, but the reality is that I’ve never gotten the chance, and at this age have learned to tone it down several notches.

At this point I’ll settle for just listening in on interesting conversations.

At the deepest level I just want to cuddle with my daughter every night. But she just wants to be independent, a quality I love in her, even as much as I hate it.