A Change in Production Schedule.

Normally when I sit to write this blog, it’s the day prior to it seeing the light. Today’s blog however was written just this morning. In fact, three different blogs were conceived this morning. The problem with all three though, they didn’t have the feel I was looking for. Maybe the timing wasn’t right, maybe I didn’t like the pacing, or maybe they just weren’t very good. Whatever the case, I decided to go with this entirely different and fourth blog.

My main fear of bringing this blog daily is writer’s block. Or maybe even more so, I fear that a daily pace might cause it to grow stale… for both you and me. So in order to keep that from happening, I plan on cutting back to a minimum of three a week including the Friday Funnies. Here and there I might add a fourth or even fifth post. But forcing out five a week might detract from overall appeal.

Look at it like this, currently Kalen is eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Given her choice, she’d eat one every day… lunch and dinner. My regulating her to having it every other day at best allows her to enjoy it more, and takes away the fear of getting burnt out.

Consider this blog my PB & J.

Of course it’s still good for any aspiring writer (or blogger) to have a deadline. So mine will be Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Basically any day Kalen eats a PB & J sandwich, I am posting a blog. In order to keep with the theme I could change the name to Peanut Blogger & Jelly.

Ok… maybe not.

Hopefully this change will be for the better and please continue spreading the word. Drop in on my Blogspot page and sign up to follow me there. And just overall enjoy what I am doing.

See you tomorrow - J

My Little Mata Hari, Sans the Exotic Dancing

In my house the numbers game seems to be my biggest obstacle. No matter how close Kalen and I get, she’s still and always will be mommy’s little girl. Whether the battle is a rousing game of dog pile or just some good ol’ bare knuckle fisticuffs between me and the wife, she will always have mom’s side. Sure I have Murph. But if the four of us squared off in a tag team cage match, he’d probably be more interested in chewing on the turnbuckle then watching my back. So in the battle of sexes of my house, I remain down by one… it might as well be one hundred.

I’ve read that in any war it is almost always wise to hide your strengths until the time is perfect, my two girls flaunt it blatantly. They plot girl’s night days in advance of me working at the bar. They shout their battle cry of “GIRL POWER!” when performing sneak attacks and frontal assaults. They send secrets to and fro across battle lines openly and daily.

And I suffer their audacity.

Although there does seem to be a glimmer of hope on the horizon. Better days may lie ahead. And no... I don’t mean my wife is carrying a miniature me in here belly basket. (Again, that is a blog hopefully a little ways down the road.) No, I am talking about a pint sized turncoat in the guise of a four year old with an angel’s facade.

In the last month or so I’ve noticed that Kalen listens to my request from time to time. I’ve managed to convince her to give mom a whippin’ when I feel she’s acting up. Sometimes, when mom is lying on the couch, I’ve even convinced the Kalenator to use the nuclear bomb of our house war… the wet wily.

Yeah, I feel like the tides of war are starting even out. I am gaining ground in this household. That is unless mom and daughter are luring me into a false sense of security. I might have underestimated my adversary, thus creating the perfect trap. Perhaps she’s training her daughter in the art of espionage, creating a pint sized double agent. The conniving harlots, this means that I now have to be further on my toes.

And these two have already caused me to have the toes ballerina.

Please see this blog as a rallying cry, a call to arms for the men of this world. Surely someone has seen this scenario play out. Someone has to have some words of advice. I can’t be on this island alone… can I?

Any help that could aid my cause would be greatly appreciated.

Thanks in advance - J

The First Funny.

With the closing of my store, a new source of income had to be obtained. Luckily I had already been working a couple or three nights at a local watering hole as a bouncer/doorman in order to help pay for the wedding and keeping that job became an easy option. The draw back is that it keeps me up considerably late on Wednesday and Thursday nights (sometimes more).

Therefore Thursday and Friday mornings I sleep in, usually no latter than nine am. Give or take thirty minutes.

On some of those mornings, Kalen doesn’t sleep in. What she does and how long she does it is a complete mystery. A few times I have awoken to find her staring at me. I can’t be sure how long or how intense of a stare I’m given, but I can tell you that it is slightly creepy.

This has happened to me once before in life. All the way back in high school (during my senior year) we had a sausage only New Year’s Eve party. Why it was guys only I can’t remember now, but for some it was their first time drinking… and first time puking from being drunk.

After passing out on the floor on one of the few clear patches of carpet I awoke to find my buddy Steve staring at me from the couch. Needless to say I was slightly shaken. So after falling back to sleep for about another forty minutes or so, I rolled back over and opened my eyes to find the same icy gaze targeted at me again.

Kalen’s glare although not as creepy, still causes flashbacks that leads me to the flop sweats.

When the Levity Breaks.

When I sat down three days ago and began typing out what would become the introduction to this blog, I had a certain vision of straight forward comedy involving a failed 30’something entrepreneur and a silly four year old whose happy go lucky exploits would paint a picture of both growth and zeal for life. The last two blogs haven’t quite done that as much as allow you to look at some of her characteristics through my eyes.

That's the funny thing about the creative process, “direction” and “vision” really aren’t words that always apply. In fact, as I type these few paragraphs, I am not even sure I know where this blog will end up taking us. What I do know is that so far (for me at least) these daily musings about my life intertwined with that of a toddler have been both therapeutic and entertaining. Sure there are some out there far more professional and have much better grammatical skills than I that might find it easy to sit in front of a laptop focused on a set goal and go from start to that goal with no problem. Apparently that kind of thing isn’t my bag.

I will admit that I do often have some sort of purpose. And I in a backwards way I almost always achieve it, but my path rarely goes from A to B. My creative process more resembles that kid Billy from Family Circus… kind of all over the place like spaghetti noodles thrown on a table. Call it A to F by way of purple.

In this respect I am probably a lot like the Kalen-nator. I am guessing that when she goes into her room (more often ours); she sets off to play one thing and ends up playing about ten different others. I often see her starting the day by playing kitchen, heading over to doctor, stopping off for some television, having lunch, putting her babies to bed and ending up dancing with the Jonas Brothers. Bottom line is that she is happy. Which I’m sure was her goal all along.

Since there are such similarities in her playing and my blogging, I guess I could always turn this blog over to her. I can see the changes now... each day you would be reading about Aunt Di Di, you’d be asking yourself what turtle she is referring to (the turtle being her new imaginary pet), and you probably would hear all about the latest misadventures of the iCarly crew.

Ok, so not quite Pulitzer Prize winning stuff… but on the upside there’d probably be fewer typos.

Speaking of, did you know that Joseph Pulitzer lived from right here in Saint Louis. It’s true, I looked it up. Now remember that some day in the distant future while playing some trivial game and this comes up: “Name two famous writers that lived in the greater Saint Louis area.”

Done for the day - J

PS, in case I have to hit you over the head with my witty implication... the other answer is me.

A Title More Distinguished Than King.

In the exclusive club know as male comradery there are very important rituals that must be observed. For example; you have the high five, the cup check, the taking of any shot placed in front of you, and really so many more that would be way too tedious to type. But of all rules in the charter, and the one that signifies ultimate acceptance, the nickname is the one that pertains to this particular blog.

I myself have had many nicknames over the years, some of them deserved and even cute; Bo, B, Boo, Boon Dock (my favorite), and Bo Bo. And others I certainly don’t agree with; Jerk, A-hole, Idiot and Football Bat. But of all the nicknames (deserved or otherwise), my favorite is the one I have just recently acquired… Daddy J.

Now a good nickname can not be given to one’s self. It almost always has to be earned. Any man that tries to name himself should probably be kicked square in the man region, so rest assured my privates should be spared. It was my wife bestowed this new tag on me. And in the beginning, this new name did not take.

In fact, it wasn’t even a name I felt too comfortable with right away.

You see, Kalen’s dad is still very much in the picture. I wouldn’t go so far to say that he is a big part of her life or anything… that would be a matter to take up with Missouri Child Services. (If the not-so-subtle cough of the words “dead beat” could be conveyed through blog, I would do it in these parentheses.) But between the delinquent payments and few obscenities hurled at my wife, he is still her dad. And growing up in a similar way, I know what it is like to have other men prematurely pose as “dad”.

Like her, I also know what it is like to have a dad that wears two faces. My father also wasn’t very supportive or helpful to my mom. But on the sporadic weekends that I did spend with my father, he was great. He made sure I always laughed and always got what I want. Much like Kalen’s dad does and is for her. That’s why as a kid (especially one Kalen’s age) it’s hard to know what or who deserves that title.

Sadly for mothers, children are not blessed with that kind of clarity for quite some time.

Luckily for me, in fact maybe the best luck of all (outside of meeting my future wife); she seems to have finally christened me into that role. In fact, that name flows from her mouth like a domestic beer from your favorite hole-in-the-wall’s tap. I can’t place the time or date that she started using it so freely, though it seems to have happened sometime around her mother’s and my wedding. This tells me that at age four, though not possessed with the ability to fully appreciate what goes on behind the curtain of her life… she’s somehow sensed the importance of and accepted her mom’s pledge to love me, and I to her. She’s stubborn, a pain-in-the-butt-just-like-her-mother, adorable, beautiful (again like her mother) and way smarter than any adult would ever give her credit. That is my Kalen-nator… another nickname.

So among the many names given, earned, and/or undeserved… Daddy J stands the most important, emphatic, and greatest name I could ever garner. If I were a betting man I would lay money that I’ll probably feel that way forever, or at least until I am graced with the name “Grand-pappy J”.

But that nickname and blog better be DECADES away.

And With that thought I bring this blog to an end, I here my nickname being shouted from the other room. No doubt lunch is done and we’ve got a puzzle to assemble.

See you tomorrow - J

And Imagination: Aged Four Years

As I sit on my living room couch preparing to pound the keys of my laptop while drinking my 4th beer, a couple of things occur to me. One, I am really excited to bring you the chronicle of my on the job training of fatherhood. And two… this 4th beer and these blogs are the closest to becoming Ernest Hemingway I will ever know.

That aside, I’d like to start today’s note.

I think it takes a certain kind of creativity to set out to write. Whether it’s a daily blog, a comic book, a novel, or hell… even some obituaries are fairly creative. (After all, how many assholes in this world are a “beloved husband and caring father”?) And that kind of creativity probably comes from the imagination we cultivate as children. I myself spent my fair share of fighting phantom ninjas. Posing as Rambo, running through the jungles of somewhere tropical that I wasn’t aware existed at the time; no doubt killing many bad guys with funny angled eyes. And that’s really just a couple of a myriad of things I imagined while I was a child.

And although I’ve devised this plan of bring you a blog everyday… I’ve lost a little of that imagination... we all have really. Well, sans the small percentage of those that manages to make a living writing, directing, and composing the books, movies, and music that entertain us. But lucky for me, I’ve asked and been accepted into a life with a loving wife and very imaginative four year old who’s just stumbled onto this most precious gift.

Today, for instance, I spent most of day watching a dance team competition, a dog being examined by someone much more Doogie than the fictional young doctor ever was, and seeing a young girl go to and get asked to leave school for multiple disciplinary reasons. Like watching TV, talking, and refusing to stand in “time out”. And here judging from her steady television diet of Disney Channel, I would’ve thought she only imagined school days filled with perfectly choreographed dancing and singing.

Who knew I’d have an imaginative hooligan on my hands?

It’s this kind of pretend play that makes me smile. In spite of her imagining an expulsion from mythical school… I mean it could be worse, she could be pretending to be on the poll. And it’s this kind of pretend that makes leaves me in awe at the innocence of childhood. Where as my day is spent worrying about when I will get a job and will we have enough money this month, her day is spent going to school, performing an examination, and cutting a rug.

She isn’t hindered by responsibility or a pile of bills. Although we spend an occasional hour dedicated to learning our letter and counting numbers, she gets most of the day to explore the depths of her own creative mind. The best part is, the more she grows and learns; the more her imaginative world expands.

I’m not sure at what age we stop fighting monsters and/or saving the world. (For us guys, it’s probably around the age we discover girls… phssh… women) But it’s almost sad that it happens. And although, I probably wouldn’t have started this self examination and reached this unhappy conclusion without the help of Kalen, I can’t be upset about it. In fact I can only be inspired. Inspired and happy that she invites me into her world, whatever that world may consist of at the time. That is basically why I started this blog, well… that and the sanity I mentioned in my last blog.

Now as I close this and continue watching the season opener of House (and after my 6th beer) I will say this, open up your brain from time to time. See a world that only a four year could. Maybe get lost in a childish book or even watch a cartoon. If you’re really feeling adventurous, go fight mutant monsters or attend a ball with a toddler. You may find you’ll enjoy yourself.

Me? Tomorrow I plan on going to a five star restaurant with the finest food a four year old could prepare.

And PS, maybe I’ll switch to whiskey…that’d be a tad more Hemingway of me.

The beginning of the Chronilces.

Many of you know by now that my store is closed, a very demoralizing blow to say the least. So because of this I now find myself spending my days searching, calling, and applying for what I hope becomes my next and final career path. And in these tumultuous economic times, I hope I discover that path way sooner than later…or its hello McBurger flipper.

But that really isn’t the point of this blog.

No, the point of this blog is sanity… or more accurately to keep myself sane while riding the roller coaster of life through another one of its valleys. Not the deepest mind you, just something else to rise above or out of. So… in order to keep myself sane, I’m going to be writing about my daughter. I hesitate to use “step” in front of that term since I see her more than anyone and in her life she’s too amazing to have anything “step” on her.

My plan isn’t to bring you a “Dear Abby” approach to telling her and my story, that’s way to much fluff. Instead, I plan to use an honest “adult” take at being something entirely new to me... a dad. I will try and aim for MY crowd of current 30’somethings. To try and keep them enthralled. Maybe even the younger hipsters. Hell, even the more straight laced crowd is welcome on my bus.

I hope to bring these stories daily; I’ve even toyed with the idea of dusting off the pencils and add a comic strip at the end each week. Who knows, maybe this will end up making me and my new family millions (and eventually put my topic through college). And every one can have the honor of saying you were there during my humble beginnings.

Now... as we come to the end of this introductory note, think of a few things for me. First, I need a clever name. Something we could put on a t-shirt some day. I would do this myself, but the creative process of spinning my daily life with Kalen into something entertaining is already turning my brain to jelly. Secondly, if this thing is funny and you do like what I have to say… tell the world. Shout it from the rooftops even. How else will I become a household name? Thirdly, give me lots of feedback. Without constructive criticism, one can not grow…or just call me an idiot if that’s more your particular brand of scotch.

Either way, I just want to someone to take notice of our journey.