Cottage Week 2009:

Cottage Week 2009 pictures here: http://thegearharts.smugmug.com/keyword/cottage%20week#602469993_f5x6v

Cottage Weekend 2008:

Cottage Week 2008 pictures here: http://thegearharts.smugmug.com/Vacation/2008-08-14-Cottage-Weekend/5742907_s34FP#354834988_bCkUk

You need more? Well, how about this:

Three days ago, the mouse I use for my laptop – the mouse that had been missing for two weeks, which I had all but given up hope on ever finding again – materialized itself under our living room couch. I already know you’re still not convinced of the presence of Stripe, or even Gizmo himself, yet, so I’ll continue.

My missing tape measure suddenly appeared in a box with one of Tyler’s toys.
My camera lens cap disappeared for two MONTHS before being found in Sarah’s Blazer.
One of Delilah’s dog bones somehow ended up in the subwoofer of our surround-sound system. IN the subwoofer. Only a very small hand or arm could achieve such a act of destruction. A gremlin hand, right?
A shoe in the kitchen pantry.
A missing library book under our bed.

Yesterday, I watched Tyler open up the clothes hamper, lean in, and pull out a football.

Just today, TODAY, I found a flashlight (which I didn’t even know was missing until I found it) in Delilah’s crate. There’s something about her crate, I’m sure of it. Then, just a few hours ago, I found one of Tyler’s sandals in our mail slot!! Why is this happening to us?????

When you woke up this morning, you weren’t the happy and smiling boy that I so love to see before I head off to work each day. You wouldn’t smile at me, and you wouldn’t give me a hug or a kiss. I told you that I love you and you said, “no.”

And then, I made you cry. You see, we have a rule in the house. You are only allowed to have your pacifier at nap-time. When you wake up, it’s time to take the paci out. We make a game out of it by saying “POOEY PACI,” and then you spit the paci out. This morning, you came into our room at five in the morning, crying and asking for your paci. Mommy tried to comfort you, but you cried louder. So, she gave you a paci and you went back to your bed. When you woke up and came downstairs, you still had your paci. Mommy and I both told you that you couldn’t have the paci downstairs. You simply said , “no,” and wouldn’t take it out. So, I took it from you. That made you cry.

Soon, I accepted that my attempts at siphoning some affection from you were fruitless, and I told you that I was going to work. As I walked toward the door you bellowed, “NEEEEEEEEED DADDYYYYY!”

My heart split as I pulled the door closed behind me. I had to come back into the house a couple moments later, because I forgot a package I needed to bring with me. I gave your mommy another hug and, whispering in my ear, she implored me to try again with you. I did, and you rejected me once more. I felt a lump start to form in my throat, so I turned and left before the tears could begin to well in my eyes and spill down my cheeks.

Tyler, if you ever have a son or a daughter, I want you to read this letter again. You need to understand that, sometimes, there will be bad days. Heartbreakingly sad days. All-around, infuriatingly mad days. But, also understand, son, that your child still loves you and looks up to you, and learns so very much from you.

I do.

Later, when your child finishes waking up, or when you get home from work, it’ll all be water under the bridge to your little one. But you? You’ll still hold onto a sliver of those bruised emotions. You’ll wonder what level of hell you’re about to enter as you open the door. And when that child charges at you and jumps into your arms? Well, that next hug will amaze you, probably faze you, knock you down, pick you up, spin you around dizzy and daze you.

It did to me.

And when you think to yourself, Man, I really hope I’ve never put my parents through all this crap, read this letter again, you little turd.

*Disclaimer: This is 2 months old, but a lot of stuff was going on and I just didn’t have time to fit this into the blog.
*Disclaimer 2: I know that this kinda makes the post not “Wordless”. I’m sorry.

We enjoy sitting at the dinner table, as a family, to eat our evening course. It was a difficult routine for me to get accustomed to. I grew up eating dinner while sitting on the floor of the living room and watching television. I’m not entirely sure if my entire childhood was this way, because I have an extremely foggy memory. The memories I do have, though, had me watching The A-Team, or M*A*S*H, or other 80′s entertainment while eating a delicious bowl of my mother’s goulash.

For Sarah, it was important to her that we eat as a family, at the table. I struggled against the change at first, but it’s now status quo in the house.

A few days ago, the sunlight angled into the kitchen and against the wall behind me at the dinner table. Inspiration struck! I told Tyler to look at the wall as I raised my hands. Within moments, the shadowed representation of my ten fingers transformed into a Doberman Pincer. For a moment, I fooled myself and had to look around. Convinced there were no other dogs in the room, I put my attention back on the wall. Time for sound effects to really show Tyler the magic I held.

As I moved my thumb down and up, I said “Bark bark bark bark bark!”

Apparently, Tyler didn’t see the ultra-realism in front of him, because he shouted, “COCK!”

I blinked. “What’d you say?”

“Cock. Cock cock cock cock CAWWWWWWWWWWWWK!”

“Tyler, I don’t think I unders-”

“COCK!”

I’m not sure how long Sarah knew what was truly happening. I suspect she knowingly allowed me to sweat for a few moments before speaking.

She said, “Yes, Tyler, that does look like a duck. Quack quack quack.”

“Cack,” he agreed.

I gave Sarah the ol’ stink-eye for a moment. Then, I turned back to my ultra-realistic duck and said, “Quack quack quack.”

Dinner is fun.

Thank you…

Date: Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Time: 5:45am

When the alarm went off, I opened my eyes, saddened. For the second night, Sarah hadn’t slept in the bed with me. With a sigh, I swung my legs off the bed and walked downstairs. Sarah slept soundly on the couch. I took a deep breath, continued my morning routine, and left for work an hour later.

Date: Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Time: 7:30am (approximate)

“Hello?”

Sarah’s voice answered through my phone’s speaker, “Hi.”

“Why’d you sleep downstairs again?”

I listened as Sarah explained. After some discussion, we both confirmed that we were still in love with one another, exchanged goodbyes, and disconnected the call.

Date: Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Time: 10:30am (approximate)

My phone rang three hours later. Sarah’s picture flashed onto the screen. I pressed the green button and waited for the tone in my headset to signal that the call was connected.

“Hi, honey,” she said.

“Hi, what’s up?”

“Well,” she started. I listened as she explained.

“How long?”

“A week,” she said.

Recalling her reasons for sleeping downstairs the night before, I replied, “Well, that would explain why you threw up last night.”

“Yeah, and why I felt like a furnace the night before that. So I was thinking about buying a pregnancy test when I go to the store today.”

Date: Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Time: 4:00pm (approximate)

She took the stick into the bathroom, while Tyler helped me in the kitchen with dinner; we were preparing corn on the cob and some meat for the grill. The instructions for the pregnancy test clearly stated to wait three minutes for a result. When Sarah returned from the bathroom, she set the timer on the microwave to three minutes and pressed the “Start” button. Over the course of the next 180 seconds, we caught each other sneaking into the bathroom to look for the blue line. We were simultaneously giddy and anxious for the results.

Ten minutes later, Sarah caught me sneaking into the bathroom again to look for the blue line we still had yet to see.

Barely loud enough for me to hear in the other room, Sarah said, “The instructions said not to trust it after fifteen minutes.”

I looked at the blank window on the stick for just a moment longer. I lowered my head, disappointed, then walked back to Sarah in the kitchen. My eyes flicked to the box for the pregnancy test. I picked it up and read the front of it.

“99.9% effective,” I mumbled, reading the box. Just about as accurate at detecting a pregnancy as a condom, birth control pill, or IUD is at preventing one. Sarah had her IUD removed two months ago, in the hopes of us adding one more to our family. We timed and planned it so that we wouldn’t have another summer baby. As much as we love, cherish, and adore Tyler, Sarah was miserable in the summer heat of her ninth month of pregnancy. You always hear of people that take pregnancy tests, scared of possibly getting a positive result, because the condom broke, or she forgot her pill “just that one time,” or from pure foolishness. We planned this; we wanted a positive result. A little more hopefully, I continued, “Maybe we’re the 0.1%.”

“Yeah, maybe. Even the test line didn’t turn blue.”

We then concoted myriad reasons we didn’t get a positive result, from the fact that she probably should have taken the test with her fist pee of the day, to maybe she held the stick crooked.

We decided to try the second test in the morning.

Date: Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Time: 7:00pm (approximate)

“I need to pee.”

It had only been a few hours, but I couldn’t resist. I told her to do it. So what if it was negative again? I’d just go buy another test for the morning. Damnit, I’ll just keep buying them until it gives us the answer we want!

Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself. I was too hopeful for a positive, and too worried about a negative. I took another deep breath as the bathroom door opened.

“Three minutes, my ass! It lit blue in three SECONDS!”

We high-fived and hugged and kissed each other.

Sarah asked, “Tyler, do you want to be a big brother?”

He answered without hesitation, “Yeah! Bruhver.”

We are overjoyed to announce that we are expecting our second child on, or around, February 15, 2011. As of the posting of this entry, we are nine weeks along.

So, one week after Tyler’s second birthday, we went from this:

Through this:

To this:

Sarah didn’t like it for one single reason. It completely erased his little boy looks, and made him look much older. It was sad for her, but we both absolutely love the look!

On June 28, this year, my beautiful little boy completed his second trip around the sun and clicked his counter over to two. I, however, was not at home for this event. A work-related project had me a few states away for that particular week. But, I was home for the birthday party two days before his actual birthday. It was a very good day.

Tyler has recently developed an affinity towards Toy Story, and its characters, so we (let’s be honest, Sarah’s the event coordinator of the household, so I use the term “we” loosely here. To be even more honest, it’d be more fitting to say “Sarah and her BFF, Mel”) decided on a Toy Story themed party for Tyler.

Cupcakes, decorations, and games all oozed Woody and Buzz goodness. Sarah and Mel craftily made games and activities to keep the children happy. I did my part by putting up said decorations and making Toy Story-themed signs, directing people to the lemonade and the bathroom.

Tyler, the other children, and the adults all (presumably) had a really good time. When it came time to sing the “Happy Birthday” song to Tyler, the only thing bigger than the unflappable smile on his face was the garage we used as shelter from the blistering heat. The kids – and a couple adults – used the sprinkler.

And myself? Happy. Truly happy. I stuggle with some demons in my life; depression being the primary shadow that clouds much of my sky. That’s not to say that I’m never happy, because I am, quite often nowadays. At any given time, though, I feel a sadness/numbness/depression stalking me, always keeping its presence in my peripheral. But on this day, being with family and friends, playing with the kids, and watching Tyler have such a good time… Well, it made my heart warm. Whatever door Tyler has been pushing open within me over the last two years opened a little wider on June 26th, 2010.

Of course, I can’t discount the fact that Sarah has been instrumental in helping me to feel more balanced and comfortable in my skin. She has helped and supported me through all of my dark periods. Just the simple fact that she has put up with my crap for seven years – and counting – should speak volumes to her character. Or to her foolishness.

I suppose that’s enough of my soapbox rambling. Let’s take a short journey, through pictures of Tyler’s birthday party.