A Complete Tragedy

No, you haven't accidentally logged into a different blog. And no we haven't undergone Father/Son plastic surgery. This posting is dedicated to a truly great friend of mine that recently passed away - Shannon Childre.

I really have (and still do) the best intentions of posting more often, but his death has forced me to hit the pause button on a lot of things over the past two weeks. Shannon and I have been creative partners for a good portion of the past 10 years. When I was an intern, he was the first person to really give me a chance and show me the ropes around the agency. We had plenty in common so we hit it off and made some great memories over the past decade together.

Shannon and I traveled out to San Diego for Comic-Con 3 weeks ago with some other coworkers to help our client man their booth. The second day we were there, he went out for a jog along the boardwalk by our hotel and collapsed from a heart attack, at the age of 39. One of our mutual interests was eating the right kinds of foods and giving our body a good sweat when we had the chance (it's harder to work it in with kids). A total and complete biological fluke left him dead shortly after he got to the hospital.

To add to the situation, he wasn't carrying an ID and we didn't discover that he was truly missing until he was a no-show at dinner that evening. We raced around the city to try and put the pieces together, went to the hospitals looking for injured John Does, and we sadly discovered him as a deceased John Doe. My body went into a complete shaking shock, the only other time I experienced this sensation was right before Benjamin was born. Except that was shaking from excited shock, not sad shock.

The whole event is filled with a series of "firsts" that I never wanted to perform a "second." Packing up his hotel room, flying his stuff home, trying to find words that will console his wife and two children, planning a memorial service, trying to work with his blatant absence. The entire flight home my body was completely tensed up trying to fight off tears, and I couldn't wait to get home and hug Emily and Benjamin.

There is hope though. Shannon's death has brought people and emotions out of the woodwork. About 500 people attended his memorial and is was a time for tears, laughs and celebration of who he was and a chance for all of these people who he positively impacted to get together in the same room to say "thanks" to him. And "thanks" to everyone else there. Compliments came off the tongue easier, people told one another how appreciative they were of one another - it was a great evening.

The tragedy is that Shannon wasn't there to see it, and that it took his death to shake people out of their rat-race funk and rediscover their own humanity. I eulogized him at the service (another First) and I tried to leave people with a positive message that they were his legacy, and for them to recognize the traits they admired in Shannon and apply them to their own lives. I also tried to pass on a simple lesson that came out of a conversation Shannon and I had - he recently started to learn how to speak German. I asked him, "Why?" and his playful response back was, "Why not?" It was just something he had always wanted to do, so he made a move to learn German.

My challenge to the audience at the memorial and to you today is to say "Why not?" more often in your lives. Yank those things off the backburner and just do it - take that trip, learn that skill, take a class, volunteer somewhere, or suck it up and ask that person out that you've been eyeballing for weeks. Shannon's passing is proof that life is clearly to short to not roll the dice more often.

The saddest part of this whole incident, and one that I haven't cared to dwell on too much, is the fact that his 2 year old boy (Griffin) and his 1 year old girl (Lily) will have to learn about their dad through stories, old pictures and mementos from his past. Something no child should have to endure. This obviously makes my imagination go crazy thinking how that could have been me and what Emily and Benjamin would do if I were gone. And that really makes me sad.

Who Taught My Baby How To Be A Jerk?

Is that bad, calling your baby a jerk? Benjamin has just turned a corner where his new found mobility has emboldened him to have a bit of an attitude. And some of the things he does, if any of us did them, we would be called jerks. Actually, we would be called something worse.

I'm not really calling Benjamin a jerk and he hasn't become "Damien" from the Omen movies, but he is definitely testing the limits.

For instance, if he's messing with an object he desires (phone, marker, remote, gold bullion) and we don't let him have it, he will run away squealing from us and then throw said object into the corner.

THEN, if we put the object back he will go back over to it, look you right in the eye and zing the object haphazardly behind him. And the look on his face says, "Oh yeah, you want this so much, go get it (ZING!)" There are some choice days where we call timeout for him more than the last 2 minutes of an NBA game.

And the absolute worse part is when he does the "Marlin" - a full body contort were his head and feet stiffen and fling in the opposite direction from his body. Much like a marlin jumping up out of the water and flopping around on the deck of your boat. At least now I know what it's like to be headbutted and kicked in the ribs at the same time. I could soooo make it in the UFC.

For full disclosure, he still has plenty of good moments and isn't filled with vinegar that often. The times that he has an attitude make up probably 5%, but going from 0% to 5% makes you think "oh no, is this it? Is the cheese sliding off his cracker? What did we do wrong? Whose teaching him this stuff?" Like everything else in the media, I guess we should blame the parents. Wait a second...

Life's a Zoo

Sometimes you just need a break, so I took one for 2 weeks. A break from pretty much everything except family. I had two big revelations, the first one is that I am programmed to remain busy. Even if I don't have work to do, I fill my time with some other form of work rendering me completely incapable of relaxing. That's why I never book a massage, I'd rather just rub my own shoulders so I feel like I'm accomplishing something.

The 2nd revelation is that every day I go to work, I am completely missing the sweetspot of Benjamin play time. I see him in the morning when he can't wait to eat breakfast, and then I see him at night when he can't wait to eat dinner, mess around a little bit and then go to sleep. I had two weeks of seeing him in his element and doing things that I didn't know he was able to do, like play piano. I kid.

(3rd revelation is how are all of these other people at Target at 2PM on a Tuesday??)

One treat is that my folks came in to town from TN to stay for about a week. They hadn't seen Benjamin since we was 2 weeks old, and Benjamin really has never seen them. They just looked like black and white polka dots to him. He had a blast, they had a blast, we all had a blast. They marveled at Benjamin's ability to do some things that are just kind of commonplace to us now. It was a great experience to see their joy from our little bundle of joy.

I did plan a family outing to the Ft. Worth Zoo while they were in town, which was the inaugural expedition for everyone. I thought that Benjamin at 16 months would be able to understand that there were exotic animals running around him, I was wrong. Let me set the stage a little bit with these three words - Texas, June, Hot.

We got there right when it opened to hopefully catch the animals in the midst of wrapping up their breakfast before they start running and swinging and breaking into dance in order to entertain the patrons. What we saw were animals submerged in water, huddled under any shade they can find or buried in a hole somewhere. To me, the looks on their faces read, "Please, send me back to Africa where it's cooler"

The animals that did play ball weren't interesting enough to pull Benjamin's attention away from people watching everyone around him. "Oh Benjamin, look at the huge gorilla right in front of your face... orrrr keep trying to touch that girl's barrettes in front of you" All in all we got to see about 1/3 of the park before we called it quits to find sweet relief in a room piping super cold A/C. And unfortunately there were no penguins to be found.

Spoonman

Benjamin's favorite appliance in our house is the dishwasher, sorry rice cooker. And the other day I was doing my household duty of emptying the dishwasher and Benjamin did something outside of his usual routine of trying to climb into the dishwasher.

He pulled out two spoons from the utensil caddy and trotted out of the kitchen. A few seconds later he came back to the dishwasher empty handed and pulled out two more spoons. I assumed he was playing a little game where he grabs the spoons, hoping that I chase him, and then tosses them into the dogbed like he does every other one of his toys (sorry Schmax).

I let him do it a couple more times until I realized he had taken every spoon we have and put them somewhere (these were clean by the way, so it also hit me that I have to watched all of the flippin spoons again). Curiosity finally won out and I followed him on his final spoon heist, only to discover that he has arranged (not thrown) all of the spoons on the window sill in our office.

Clearly, I know that he is not an artist in-residence with high-level cognitive thinking, but it was amazing to see how he was actually evaluating the current structure to determine where best to place the next spoon. It was a neat moment, and then a creepy moment. It reminded me of the Matrix where that little psychic girl is bending spoons with her mind.

Ultimately, it was one of those instances where you wish you could peek into someone's mind to see exactly what's going on in that noggin. There is, however, one thing I knew for certain - how Benjamin would react when I gathered up the spoons. Let's just say I'm glad they weren't knives.

It's Summer Baby!

(insert excuse for not posting stuff in nearly two months, but it involves saving orphans from fires and helping to topple the Taliban)

Since last we met Benjamin has gone through a bit of a renaissance progressing from "baby" to "toddler". It is amazing that in less time than a pro

motional period for free Time Warner cable a life form can go from craw

ling with little

understanding of language to a bi-ped that can communicate through sign language and remedial mutterings of english.

It is also a relief to my biceps now that I don't have to lug around 27lbs of dead weight everywhere. In fact, if I try and hold him too long he wants to bust loose and explore his house. He actually kind of struts a bit when he cruises around the living room and kitchen, like this is his joint. But then you get him in some of the other bedrooms and he is tentative like he is creeping around a haunted mansion with no flashlight. His eyes go wide

not knowing what lurks behind every nook and cranny. He also issues out a "Hmmpf..." sound almost like it is a sonar ping.

The decibel level in our house has also increased. He is definitely... finding his voice, not crying just doing his best impression of a caveman. Before I would get nervous if I heard him making noise, now I get nervous when he's not making noise. A sure sign that he is up to no good.

That's the other part of his renaissance, he dabbles in the arts of mischief. I call it mischief because he knows that he's not supposed to do something but he tests the boundaries anyway. Like turning on our bathtub faucet - he'll go over to it, look my way, and then turn it on and quickly turn it off and scurry away. I'll warn him with a timeout, and you can see him pondering the repercussions and still do it anyway. And he

takes the punishment like Steve McQueen in the Great Escape - he sits in his room and does his time with smile about how he tested "The Man".

There are a dozen other things to go on about, but I will stop here so I have more topics readily available to write about in the near future. Thanks for coming back to check this out, you're making sure that the terrorists don't win.

Sick of Being Sick

This is more of a pamphlet entry instead of a full-fledged slice of life, but I am so ready for March to be over. Sickness has ping-ponged between Benjamin and I all month, I think we've made it through though.

This past month has been riddled with co-pays and empty medicine bottles. Good riddance March, we'll reluctantly see you next year.

I think this picture says a thousand words of sick baby misery.

Down with the Sickness

I remember being sick as a kid as a somewhat enjoyable experience. People give you lots of attention, you get to lay around, watch TV and hot soup is yours for the asking. Now, being sick as an adult with responsibilities is terrible. Because you can't not (nice double negative) take care of some things - key work assignments, life obligations and helping care for your child. It is exhausting.

Up until this year, I have only get one unseasonal summer cold each year. I typically take lots of vitamins, lay low for two days and it is gone. I have been sickly since Valentine's Day, and I blame Benjamin. He has been sickly too, so I think we keep rubbing our sickness on each other through random wrestling and smooching. Oh, and we share the same pacifier.

Dealing with a sick baby is not ideal, but doable. Dealing with a well-baby while you're sick, not fun. Both of you sick? Terrible. Combine my ear infection, which totally messes with my hearing, and Benjamin's loud wail of discomfort and you have the real March Madness. I crave some kind of hibernation technology where I can go to sleep and wake up refreshed, Benjamin is better and my biceps are stronger. I can show you some preliminary drawings I have on cocktail napkins.

One thing that is interesting about having a sick baby, is that they are still really cute. They are super-cuddly and want to be held, and they have a cute-glum look on their face that says, "I-dun-feel-soo-gud..." Benjamin sneezed the other day and he blew a little snot bubble out of his nostril. If I saw you do it, it would be so disgusting. But to see him do it, it was cute as kittens. There is nothing cute, however, about sick baby diapers. Nothing.

The one-upside to this is that Benjamin loves taking medicine, to the point where he whimpers when the eyedropper of fake-cherry serum is empty. So when he gets older we plan on giving him a bottle of 'Tussin for his birthday.