| did i step on your ego? perhaps you shouldn't let it drag so... |
[Nov. 19th, 2009|10:04 am] |
For every time he tries to include me in something important, making me feel valued and respected, he throws me another beat-down.
I busted my ass, my brain, utitilized every resource I had at my disposal to make it great.
We did make it great. It's working. It's still alive. And best - it's growing.
Can't say so on FB as all my damn coworkers and heartless boss are there...
but ya, = SUCKS SUCKS SUCKS!!!
And fuck you, Jim.
Ahhh! that feels better. |
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| domesticity |
[Nov. 6th, 2009|09:42 am] |
The A, the Wolf and i have been perusing the listings of soon-to-be-vacated homes with the unlikely (unlike us) intent of acquiring a little piece of Salt Lake City we can call our own. i swore before i had not the slightest interest in such a major purchase (puts a bit of a cramp on me gear budget), but my condo curiosity got the better of me/us.
i love looking at my clients' condos downtown. They're ridiculously over-priced and often poorly thought-out from a design standpoint, still i have always held a strange professional curiosity to tour them whenever a new project comes on the market. We were in one such property a little over a week ago when, sitting on the nicely carpeted floor of the master suite with the Wolfman between us, we both simultaneously had the realization that Wolfie will be crawling soon and wouldn't it be nice to have everything on one level with more baby-safe floors?. We LOVE our place! But all those damn steep stairs and ratty old splinter-inducing floors are not conducive to safe baby travel. What to do?
We started looking at houses to rent and found some very nice places for close to what we are paying now. Then i realized we could acquire a damn mortgage for the same amount (sometimes less) and have the freedom to punch and paint walls to our hearts desires. We found a place we both love - an old Victorian built in 1900, completely restored/updated and emanating a fantastically welcoming energy.
Can we actually do this? We don't know, but it feels good. |
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| Where to turn... |
[Oct. 26th, 2009|10:26 am] |
...when you're the best at what you do,
but you lack the motivation to do it anymore.
Having been thrown back into the pit after a considerable amount of time in the "comfy" seats, i find myself questioning the venue entirely. One must do what one must do when situations present themselves in such a way that previous arrangements no longer support the current infrastructure, and a nice speech made recently by a respected icon had confirmed the decisions made.
But today i've got a strong urge to fly. |
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| 12 days & a blanket of stars |
[Sep. 27th, 2009|01:29 am] |
As most of my friends, associates, digital contacts and enemies know, Adriana and I had our baby, Wolfgang Wilde, on Monday, Sept. 14 at 12:51pm. He was born via doctor-ordered Cesarean Section and was/is complete and completely healthy. He just spent the last five minutes clinging fiercely to my thumb, and he is lying across my chest, resting in my left arm, so i am typing with only my right hand. And this has been our M.O. for the last 12 days so we've been a bit quiet on the digital front. Plus our laptop puked out on receiving wireless signals so we only managed a few updates via phone while we were in lockdown. Anyone wanna gift us some PC diagnostics as a baby gift? We would be eternally grateful! I'll have to write about the birth later as I don’t currently have the mental capacity or the dexterity required to relate such an amazing experience (I watched everything - and I have photos!). For now just a quick update and a few observations.
The little bat is currently wrapped in a light blue blanket peppered with little white stars and he is shirtless, wearing nothing but a nappy and a pair of socks. My child, most definitely. i could burn away hours (and have) just watching the endless procession of ever-changing expressions that cross his baby face. Even with his eyes closed he's the most super-expressive thing i've ever seen! The tiny lips make abstract shapes which gently hint at the possibility of some future communication, or perhaps they simply convey his current status, which changes by the second: concerned, peaceful, distressed, ambivalent, gassy, surprised, What the Hell..!!!, starving, searching, curious, etc., etc., etc. How can such a miniscule thing convey so much with naught but a grunt or a squeak as aural accompaniment? It's amazing. He's amazing. That word has been used far too much on far too many things that are actually far, far, far from amazing, but this little Wolfman... this itsy, bitsy human bean... this handful (or chest full) of humanity can say and has said so much. I'm completely overwhelmed. I'm madly in love. I'm hopelessly lost and forever his devotee.
He sleeps on the bed, either between us or upon one of us. Much has been said about the necessity of separation - "Make sure you lie him down in his crib.", "Don't let him sleep with you or he'll never want to sleep on his own.", blah, blah, blah. He belongs here. He's content and he feels safe here. And isn't that our job? We win. I've been reading about how birth is the first great trauma, the first great disappointment, the first emotional scar that is inflicted upon children. And while that initial violent act of separation can’t be helped there is much that can be done in the first few months of life to mend that wound and build a strong foundation of trust that will last his whole lifetime. So we create the womb-in-the-real-world as much as possible. I wrap him tight in soft, warm blankets; arms down but bent at the elbow so his hands rest beside his ears, and legs drawn up close to his chest. He sleeps on his side, on my chest or hers, just the way he was laying in the womb. He's happy this way. How do we know he was even ready to face the world? Maybe we forced him out too early... He fusses a bit. I squeeze him tightly, curl him up into a little baby-ball and rest my lips upon his head. Ssshhhh.... and a soft side-to-side sway. He's back asleep, making the occasional tiny cooing noise that accompanies baby sleep.
He keeps his hands up by his face so can quickly cover his eyes - he doesn't like light. He'll sometimes throw the back of a wrist across his forehead in exasperation - so tragic! He'll grip the corners of his swaddling blanket and hold the cloth up, spread out like tiny wings about to spread, or more like bat wings or a cape he can quickly draw about his face to shield his delicate skin from the menacing glare - Baby Bela. He's ours and we are his and you couldn't penetrate this fortress with a nuclear bomb.
Oh, if you could only see the way his tiny fingers will rapidly close around one of my own, holding the entire organism there in a seemingly fragile display of immeasurable strength! You would melt. He's less than miniature yet he's larger than life. He's the loudest voice at the least volume. He's a softly panting chest no wider than the length of my index finger, skinny arms which belie the tenacity of bridge cables and legs born straight up beside his head which will now bicycle-kick a diaper change into drawn out submission.
He's the Wolfman. Wolfie. Wolfgang Wilde Parker-Burnitt. And we love him madly.
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| Countdown, T. minus... (just a few more hours) |
[Sep. 14th, 2009|02:34 am] |
Can't sleep...
Wolfie comes tomorrow!!!
Holy shit, it's been forever, and it's been like no time at all.
We check in at 10am. The separation / revelation occurs at noon.
Shortly thereafter he'll be out of his momma's protective incubative custody and in my arms. We'll check each other out. We'll gaze eye-to-eye. He'll tell me his story and I'll tell him mine.
We have everything we need for a few days' stay in the hospital, so I won't be leaving his side, or hers. We're solid, the three of us. As solid as it gets.
Check out the Wolfie post for a bit on the cloth diapering story: http://kicksandflutters.blogspot.com |
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| 14 days until the Wolfman cometh! |
[Sep. 6th, 2009|02:44 am] |
Let's see... it's technically the 6th, so that means only 14 days until Wolfie's official due date. However, if a surgical intervention is required, the remaining days will most certainly be cut at least in half. How does one choose when a new life should enter this world? Come out when you're damn good and ready, Wolfman. Surprise us! |
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| 2708 |
[Aug. 28th, 2009|01:22 am] |
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How very, very disappointing. |
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