Total B.S.

While finding out you're going to be a new dad is the one of the most amazing and the most surreal of any experiences I've had in my life… I must keep a level head.

Just like when Kalen turns into the Kalenator; at some point this kid is going to be a terror on two legs, and I’m going to be stuck with an eight and four year old that want nothing more then to torture me mercilessly.

And to slightly elevate my blood pressure.

So comparatively speaking, the toddler years of lost sleep and changing diapers doesn’t seem all that scary. AND I guess it could always get a little worse… eventually they’re going to be fourteen and eighteen years old.

But at that point I will be more then happy with my dementia - J

Oh and P.S. Road trip for the Bohaagon clan this weekend... and from it shall come a new look for the comic strip.

That's my version of a tease.

The Sigmund Theory... or The Aging Id.

It has occurred to me that my rate of maturity due to being married and expecting a child is being lapped by the increasing feeling of getting old… both emotionally and physically.

Last night I had this big long blog about being a learned man and sharing my knowledge about surviving a relationship with a woman. It was all related to this past weekend and helping a younger friend move and his lack of preparation. There were all these jokes about the jabs from his girlfriend and his getting off lucky compared to how Missy would crucify me if I were in that situation. I even replaced Pavlov's dog with men as the primary subject in conditioned versus unconditioned responses.

But alas… that is a blog that will never see the light of day.

Instead, after about typing three quarters of the way through that blog, I ran out of gas. I was so tired that I was weary of having to put my boots back on later that night to take out the Murph; I didn’t even bother taking them off. We turned a movie on around eight o’clock and around eight thirty I was out. I’d love to say it was because I put in a “hard days work”. But that sure wasn't it.

So it has to be one of two things.

Either I am getting old. Or the crazy dreams and nightmares that have kept waking me up of late are being brought on as empathy to the wife’s pregnancy.

I am betting on a combination of the two.

Both things are a bit upsetting because neither can be helped. I mean no one likes getting old. Mortality of one’s self is a hard pill to swallow. And the dreams… well let’s just say this pregnancy has been rough on me.

…

Ok… I need to hit the breaks and change momentum. While ninety-nine percent of this blog is true; the tired thing, the move, the dreams and the whole deal about the boots… I may have intentionally angle my way to that quick little joke about the pregnancy. I know it isn't the funniest joke I've ever used, but it cracks me up.

And Missy loves when I use that line.

...

But seriously… why else would I be having dreams about losing fingers, being monster slayer trapped in a maximum security prison and going on long Sunday drives with Snoop Dog.

It’s that or my id has some ‘splainin to do - J

Total B.S.

Now to some, this joke may strike you as being a little crass… but after I give credit where credit is due… it may make a little more sense. A few years ago I heard my brother say this in reference to when his wife was pregnant with one of their children and I’ve been waiting my entire adulthood for my chance to use it.

And before anyone gets up in arms and shines a judgmental eye in my direction, I think truth be told I’ve been pretty sympathetic and have done good job of showing extra care and love toward my wife. Gun to her head she may even agree.

Still… every time I think of that line, I crack up inside.

So if your slightly disgusted… you can blame Shannon (my bro).

Most everyone does - J

Cathartiac Arrest

It’s official. Last night I had my first bout with anxiety during our pregnancy.

I was laying there in bed and the weighty realization of my looming fatherhood walked directly into my room, sat right on my chest and placed its legs squarely on my head.

Now before my loving and very understanding wife strikes me right on the side of my calculator, I should tell you that the amount of sleep lost due to this moment of man panic was about twelve whole minutes. Which, as a by product of stress, actually wasn’t so bad. It allowed me to finish watching the ten p.m. showing of Two and a Half Men. Which leads me to this theory… could the brevity of my inner turmoil be directly inversely proportionate to the comedic stylings of Charlie Sheen and Jon Cryer?

Or maybe more so the comments of the chick that plays Berta?

Really no matter how long the “attack” or even what saving grace was dealt to relieve me, the point is that it was really the first moment that the severity of having a little person bred of my loins crawling this Earth solely relying on my sense of responsibility and love. Well, me AND the wife (I should mind my p’s and q’s here; I seem to be poetically tip toeing around my own literary land mines).

I mean, I couldn’t say this any other way then I am going to be a dad. Try that again… I am going to be a dad.

I am the same guy that very casually drifted from my high school to college, from hometown to several cities, and from friendship to relationship leaving behind ignored appointments, broken hearts, and empty beer bottles. I rarely stopped to take in the needs or wants of anyone. Be they male or female.

Maybe with the title of new father the sum of one’s own self worth really comes into focus. I mean, I had an idea that I have cruised through most of my life with more luck then I deserved. Hell, it’s that same luck that landed me in a marriage with a wonderful wife and beautiful stepdaughter. I know I am more then blessed with the friends I’ve clung to over the years. Because they’ve done more on their end to keep me as a friend then I could ever manage to repay. And that’s why…for at least moment… I thought, “S#!t… how the hell can I be a dad when I’ve relied on the strongest support network any slacker could ask for? What in the Sam hell am I going to do” (Because “Sam hell” is a common phrase in my brain).

It was after about ten of those lost twelve minutes of sleep, I came up with this answer… because I simply have to.


Well... I mean it’s a LITTLE more complicated, but not much.

Since meeting Melissa I’ve done a lot of growing up in a bunch of different ways. She’s been an enormous point of relief when I’m down (and occasionally a colossal pain in the @$$ even when I’m up... but that’s love people). And because of her, I will be a great dad.

I also feel that as a product of my mother and father, I have seen a tremendous amount of example of do’s and don’ts. Sometimes it seemed that the don’ts outnumbered the do’s, but that’s only made me more secure with my ability to raise my own kid. Add my childhood with my rapid onset adulthood, and I think I’m going to be ok. And if I should ever stray from my responsibility, that amazing wife of mine will kick me in exit hatch and get me back on path.

So after those ten minutes of thinking about all that and then coming up with the conclusion from the previous paragraph, I used the next two minutes of lost sleep to smile and settle right back into being excited about this next step in my life.

Our life.

And then I feel asleep - J

Happy Happy Heart Day

Happy Valentine’s Day people.

I would love to sit and write this blog and tell you that up until I met my wife, I’ve never given much weight to this holiday. The operative phrase being that I would love to tell you that. The truth is… I’ve always liked the day. I’ve never really taken the masculine stance of it being manufactured or some kind of racket to steal our manly hard earned dollars. Nope, I’ve always felt that with the right focus and viewed with the right clarity… it can be a pretty beneficial holiday for us guys.

That said. I once broke up with a girl on Valentine’s Day. In my defense I thought it was just a normal Tuesday until she showed up with a big heart shaped cookie and some gift wrapped present.

Just so you know, I never ate the cookie or found out was in the present.

Like I said earlier, I’ve always like the day. But it does seem that this time around, this one is much better. Maybe because the air seems clearer, the food tastes better, and the sun shines brighter… well that last part isn’t quite true… right now its snowing for the umpteenth time this season… but that’s not really the point.

The point is having a family for V-Day is way better then being a single man. It’s true I tell you. Just yesterday I spent my Valentine date with wife and daughter walking with dinosaurs at the Science Center. That was followed by some romantic grocery shopping and an evening of TV on the couch watching NBA All-Star Weekend with a bottle of wine and one sexy pregnant wife (she did not have the wine).

I’m not even trying to be funny. I really enjoyed the whole day. Why if it wasn’t for last weekend, it might have been my favorite so far of this young year.

Last weekend I found myself caught in one of those unexpected “I am now almost a grown up” moments. We took the Sunday and went baby registering (at Target and Babies R Us in case you wanted to know) and it was some of the best fun I’ve ever had. I took every chance I could to scan every “daddy’s little girl” item within range. When the Kalenator and Melissa went to the bathroom I probably scanned at least 5 or 6 more of ‘em.

You might say I got a little out of control.

But I think that’s ok. After all, this is my first bio-kid and in the past I may have became a little more over zealous for some much more trivial things. So I feel I am entitled. Besides, I figure proportionately the extremity of my behavior isn’t near as bad as it will be when both of my little girls start dating.

When that day comes, someone may need to tell me to dial it back just a little.

For now I’ll just take pleasure in being out of control - J

The Bohaagon’s: A Reintroduction or a Natural Evolution

Man have I been absent.

Absent or absent minded. Either way, you’ve read no blogs from the self proclaimed ayatollah of the blog-ola (It’s true, in the way back I used that title on an ancient social networking site called MySpace) for some time. And now I feel like it’s time to say hello once again and take, what I feel, is the natural next step in my blogging.

In all phases of life and life forms, there is a need… or instinctual hunger to evolve. I am no different. My need to evolve comes from a few things. Things like a comedic drought, a more insightful approach, and a creative desire to expand. Whatever reasoning you attach to it, this blog is the first steep in my evolution.

I’ve been an awkward kid, a rabble rousing teenager, a directionless adult, a step-daddy in training, and finally a new bio-daddy to be. It’s all those experiences and stages of my evolving that have led me to the decision to change the direction of this blog.

I loved talking about my little Kalenator. And I still will. But from now on I’m going to start talking more about myself, my lovely wife, and my partially witless dog. It’s going to be framed with all the same humor (or lack there of), pop culture referencing, and sophomoric comments that you’ve come to know and love from me. I’m going to take you on a journey, MY journey, of not only being a step-dad... a bio-dad... a love’y hubby... but also as just a guy.

A thirty-two year old, slightly educated, and sometimes clueless guy.

And have no fear... there will still be a comic strip coming weekly (hopefully), and it will still prominently portray the Kalenator. Only now there will be frequent guest appearance by some other characters (namely me, the wife, and the Murph).

So read and watch my family through my own skewed vision and distorted sense of humor. And enjoy the blogging evolution from The Khronicles of Kalen to The Bohaagon Saga.

Hopefully reading it will be slightly easier than and just as entertaining as living it.

-J