You see, I jumped out. Well, actually, mom and Doc probably pushed me out.
I would gather the first thing I did was cry. This doesn't bug me. Crying brings tears so ya don't overheat, band-aids so you can fix/stop oww-ies, hugs (the best).. expressing.. expressing of something you love, are skeered of, regret, thank, are amazed at... Tears let you know pretty early, not all jumpshots go in, hey batter hey batter hey batter, not all swings precede that crack of the bat, sometimes, there just ain't equal like in a relationship.. and, that a fruit cake is about the only damn thing that lives on the planet forever. Funerals suck, but, again, ya let the tears out. How poopy would it be if you didn't feel... if a loss meant nothing..
I cannot remember what was assuredly 'the good ole days' when mom would lay me on a blanket and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't move anywheres. Days Of Our Lives, Jack LaLanne, Dinah Shore, I don't remember none of it those first few years.
What goes up must come down, or so says Newton (Isaac, not Grundy.) This too has been a perty good prerequisite for moving thru the lunar cycles. Ya try and ya try and ya try (walking) and ya can't. Maybe, once or twice, whilst matriculating from crawl to walk, I busted a diaper pin open, I'm sure we all did. This brought tears, anudder band-aid and no memory of the whole damn situation.
We didn't have no camcorders back in the day, but I've seen vids of moms and dads who observe those first few steps of their youngin', and it's OOOOOOOOOOO MMMMMMMM GGGGGGGGGG! Of course I don't remember, but what I do know it, I am absolutely certain I had the (and advance apologies for the language, but there ain't no udder way to put it), ahm, I am absolutely certain I had that "Holy Shit, WHAT NOW" look on my eyeballs.
That look, fear, wonder, I-ain-t-never-done-this-before, skeered, happy, tell me how it ends, are we there yet - comes in vely handy in life. "But dad, can we leave the training wheels on a bit more?"... Fast forward to 9 years old, bat in hand, a REAL pitcher on the mound, a pitcher who throws SO HARD, ya ain't got time to jump outta the way. KA-THUD, right upside the rib cage. Holy crap I'm glad they didn't have the cams back then, it's a certainty the whites of my eyes were as big as the baseball.
And, that "HS, WHAT NOW" look would be circuitous for a lifetime. You mean I passed my driver's test? Is there really room on this two-lane highway for me and that semi a comin' that's a goin' 72 miles an hour?....
And, that look........ we all had the Paradise by the Dashboard Light, moment,look..... I remember that I had no idea what I was doing (scroll to the first time I went from crawl to walk... T-Ball to real pitcher.. Bicycle to beat up old Lincoln and that Mack Truck a comin')...... and some time later, that look... it accompanied the "Do you Victor, take (enter either 1st or 2nd here) to be your lawfully wedded wife?" (WAIT! Can I go back to crawling'? Training wheels? My Schwinn?)
S'more shock and awe added to life. "Ahm, I know this is the kitchen, but can you tell me which one is the stove, and doya know if it's gas or electric?".. "Hey, your leg is on my sidea the bed." "Must you really read in bed until 2am? That light is bright and I gotta be at the plant perty damn early."........ "Hey baby, ya wanna?" "NO? WHADDAYA MEAN NO?"... back to the crawling, the facing a real live pitcher, driving, hitting a curb, having a flat time......I GET KNOCKED DOWN BUT I GET UP AGAIN, YOU ARE NEVER GONNA KEEP ME DOWN.
Oh Danny boy.......
Then, then....... "______ and ______ sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G." Therein lies the problem. Relationships are hard. Damn hard. And you wanna try SITTING IN A TREE kissing? Duh. Then, I guess, somewhere along the way, the answer was yes, oui, si, ja, which led to First comes love, then comes marriage, a tree, or, the damn reading light off, and then comes lady with a baby carriage. Which of course brings out all the "WHY YOU MISOGYNIST YOU.. YOU CAN WALK THE BABY TOO!" So ya do.
So........ we cycle back to crying. S'more and s'more. If by chance colic is involved, you might feel like rewinding the tape, praying for a dead battery so the dashboard lights don't come on, or, one of you, whilst smooching in the tree - fell. But, ya take turns. My turn, her turn. Hold the baby, rock the baby. Walk the baby. I remember one night, prolly August of 1985 or so, the crying, colic had kinda gone on into infinitum. 11pm. 11:20pm. 12:03am. 12:47am. 1:13am. You get the drift, on and on and on and finally... (we were both smokers. OK damnit, I still smoke).. anyways, long about 3:17am the crying starts again... we were in the living room, awake, because that's how we lived those first 6 months (which seem like 7 years).. the crying starts again, I look at her and say "My cigarette is longer."
Another lesson for the circle, cycle of life. Stuff like that don't work. Whatever (let's use Lola) wants, Lola gets. OK, that's not totally fair and does sound a bit like misogyny - but, if ye be smart, "She win" is a standard we men maybe oughta live by. Or, the answer will always be no sugar tonight in my coffee, I've got a headache, not in the mood, leave me alone I'm at a really good point in this book I'm reading.
Soooooooooooooooooo, where were we... Oh yeah, with infant. There's that age, that stage where ya gots a blanket, you place infant upon it, and they don't/can't go nowhere. (Took grandson to pool yesterday, was a couple with an infant of that exact same can't go nowhere age.. I hope and pray they know how special that stage is, and how damn short it seems.)
Then the circle starts again, crawl to walk. Fall, scrape, band-aid, tears. (Richard Simmons has replaced Jack LaLanne, heaven help us.) Days of Our Lives is still on. Captain Kangaroo has been replaced by "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh who lives in a pineapple under the Sea? SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS."
Diaper pins are a thing of the past. Heck, now they've even got those pull-ups for dads/grandpa's like me that can't tell the front from the back of a regular ole regular diaper.
So........... sitting back, watching a grandchild with colic, get up, get down, wake up, fall asleep, wake up, walk, fall, get a boo boo... it's kind of a sadistic joy for a grandparent to see, live thru, knowing that finally your child is getting their due. I don't really recall my folks sitting back from afar with that sheepish 'ha ha karma' look, but certain they had it.
To be frank, ahm, mom and dad woulda had to have named me that. Well, I mean.. (Is it just me or does that - starting a sentence with "I mean" drive you bat poop crazy? What about the time you say a sentence and you DON'T preface it with 'I mean?'.... side note.. slight turn.. I was at my yummy hole in the wall breakfast joint the other day.. geezers (that's a definition of men just like me) were having a mostly friendly political battle. Yuck. Then, I heard one guy say "I seen your lips movin', so I know you lie!"
Where was I (again.) I was trying to figure out whereintheheck I was initially trying to go with all this. And I ain't sure.
Originally, I'd intended to somehow wind down to things I really, really enjoy. Tears, strangely, is one. If ya don't feel, the hell is the use for even being here.
Kids. Sure they poop their diapers, pee in your face when you change 'em (at least the boys anyways) but dadgum are they fun, and a wonder.
The excitement (fear, joy, titillation) of things first time ever.
Grandkids. Watching dad figuring out which side of the diaper is front. Putting together toys with a screwdriver at Christmas time at midnight. Listening to "I'm not gonna tell you again" is maybe my second favorite 'song' behind "You can't always get what you want." (Grandkids.. "sure honey, you can have a second donut, you can eat double the veggies tomorrow"... and, as you drop 'em off.. "Oh, we swung by and got chocolate ice cream on the way home and I forgot to get napkins.. sorry!")
"You can't always get what you want" which redfacedly included tidbits about sex (or not.)
Ahhhhh cycles. The cycles of life are joyous. Up down. Fall cry. Boo boo band-aid. The eyes have it.
I do.
I do love life.
The good.
The bad.
The fugly.
The tracks of my tears.
Yours too?
Thank you for being here, and I do hereby swear to love you til the end of time, or until I can no longer remember your name.
Love, Victurd
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