Plenty of baby. Not much gaming.

When I first set out on this little slice of the blogging cesspool, I had every intention of the bits of prose that would inhabit the pixels of your computer screen would be told as a thirty-something gamer turned full-time stay-at-home dad. It seemed at the time a rather unique and untold manner of making a mark on the greater blogsphere. But, more than a year later, I realize that things here have never been that one dimensional.

You see, life is complex. That revelation may shock and scare some of you, but with the harsh reality of age comes the enlightenment of the truth, no one person is any one thing. I've been wrestling with that even more of late. It seems that the more that I've stayed home with my son the more I realize all of the things that I am. And some of the things I've lost.

The obvious bits need no explanation to any of you that have shared this journey. But, the gaming portion of gamingwithbaby.com has seen a decline. I haven't been sent a title to review in quite some time. The last thing was Professor Layton for the DS, and it's been so long for the Wii that the title of the last game I was sent escapes me. It's not that I expect anything, really I'm still quite shocked that the great folks at Nintendo think highly enough of me that they send me things to peruse.

But the forever paranoid, agoraphobic in me wonders if my neighbors aren't stealing packages off of my doorstep. Just another in the long list of wonders of apartment dwelling I suppose. It honestly wouldn't surprise me if that was the case.

And I'm up to my ears in baby. Butters continues to delight, amaze, and prematurely gray me just as his big sister did (and still does). He still steadfastly refuses to walk. I let go of him to get him to stand and he remains upright for a few brief moments, then gently squats down. Not the sudden "Issac Newton was right about gravity" butt connecting to the floor type fall, but rather the type of gentle graceful squat that one would generally associate with sitting down on the toilet to read the Sunday paper.

No change with Mac. She's still in California, we're still here. She misses us, we miss her. We miss her so much in fact that Butters' newest word is "Sissy." Now tell me that doesn't tug at the heartstrings.

As for Rotormommy, well that deserves much in the way of narrative. Too much for this meager post. Let's just put it this way, as stressful as things are, it's the status quo.

And yours truly is still here. Growing as a photographer and trying to make a couple of bucks at it. It's slow going, and truth be told I suck, but it's there. I'm learning however that my artistic sensibilities often have to bend to the needs of the person with the cash, and that's something I'm not enjoying very much. I think as this little venture continues I'm going to have to do as I did when I sold cars, and just be honest with people. I'm going to have to tell them what I am about, and if that doesn't meet their needs, then I can point them to someone who can.

That in a nutshell, is the happenings. It's a small nutshell, but it'll have to do. As it stands right now I've got about 500 shots to go through from Rotormommy's hockey tournament this weekend, dinner to figure out, and laundry to do.

Oh the joys of being a domestic goddess.

Ok. Maybe I am dead.

Long weekend of chasing women around with the camera. Stalkerific.



It's coming, be patient.

I ain't dead. Yet.

It certainly has been a while since I wrote anything substantial. I could certainly use all the tired blogger clichés, "I've been super busy." "Can't think of anything to write." "The family is taking all of my time." All those lines that we whom write in this media use all too often. But I'm not going to go there. While it is true that I've been busy, and Butters and Rotormommy have taken a lot of my time, I certainly am not at a loss of things to cover. From the recent happenings in the family, to the ongoing separation from Mac, photography, hockey, and beyond, I have a plethora of topics to write about.

And yet, the words do not come.

They're there, in my mind, but the difficulty comes from trying to get those words from my mind to the keys and onto the screen. They just won't flow. All of it stems from a general feeling of being defeated. A loneliness. Hollow. Empty.

In the month and a half that my daughter has spent 2000 miles away from us, we've managed to spend all of nine hours and fifteen minutes together. This time so generously donated to us by her mother since they would be in the area for her brother's nuptials.

Mac is the most remarkable child anyone has met. Those that have met her praise her on numerous occasions. She is every bit her father's child, easy like Sunday morning and allowing little to get to her. But, when it does, she internalizes those feelings, saving that anguish for herself so others are spared the expense of seeing her so unhappy.

So when we shared those few precious hours together, while outwardly both she and I were happy, inside raged a ball of emotion straining against the bonds placed there to hide it all. I knew what she was feeling, and she me. But despite the short time we had, we both soldiered on as if we were never apart.

The single greatest gift she gave to us in that time, was professing to both Rotormommy and myself just how much she missed hearing her baby brother babbling. You see, where we only know the pain of having one hole in our heart, she bears the burden of multiple ones. She alone knows what it feels like to loose everyone and everything. In a sick sort of way, we've got it easy.

But, that doesn't make it any easier for any of us.

There are certainly avenues I could pursue to rectify this situation, but to what end? Those actions, while beneficial to us, would make me no better than the woman who ripped Mac away from us in the first place. I have friends I could talk to, but none have ever faced anything like this. Those in situations remotely similar are on the other side of it, their child with them. And yet, for all the pain and the tears, for all the heartache and sorrow, I don't want to talk to others about this. I don't want to know that others suffer through this horror. If, in my suffering, it keeps someone from having to experience it, so be it. Such is a cross I'd gladly bear to keep my fellow man from having to know this nightmare.

Writing this may see contrary. Saying I don't want to talk about it and yet writing about it seems counterintuitive. But I'm not writing this as a commentary for the pains I, and my family, suffer. Rather, this is about getting the words to flow. About trying to confront the block that has been bothering me for so very long.

And if nothing else, this serves notice that I ain't dead. Yet.

Who's the man?

Brian Reid is the man. Brian "Rebel Dad" Reid did a spot on The Today Show this morning about, what else, stay-at-home dads. Brian has long been a champion in the world of stay-at-home dads, and this spot on The Today Show showcases why. Articulate and poised, even when Matt seemed to be goating him into whole "fulfillment in career versus SAHD" argument.

Kudos Brian, you did all of us proud.

You owe it to yourself to head on over the Rebel Dad and watch the embedded video from the show this morning.

April Fool's Day

I hate it.

There's nothing funny about that.