Tuesday, September 15, 2009

My wife just left for rehab.

That's pretty hard to write, not the least because I'm still sobbing. Evelyn is too.

Crystal has been addicted to Vicodin for about a year, now. She got on them when she had extreme back pain while she was pregnant, and it just kind of went from there. She took them all the way through the pregnancy, since every doctor we talked to assured us that Vicodin would not harm the baby.

After Oliver was born, the addiction kept growing. I have to admit that I've been an enabler, going to the ER, urgent care, and regular doctors, faking back pain and headaches in order to get her more pills. Even when I had a legitimate problem I gave most of them to her, and kept asking for refills.

A few weeks ago I told her I wasn't going to help her get any more pills. She is perfectly fine while on them, but when she's off them and needs to find more, she turns into a horrible person. I guess it's not much of a surprise, considering she's the same as any other addict. I just couldn't take the down times anymore, the constant stress and anger coming from her.

This is her second full day off of the pills, and the withdrawal, combined with her still-ongoing and horrible PPD and regular depression, finally made her decide to seek treatment. She said she wants to be a better mother to our kids, and I think this is the best way to do it. She's "tried" to get off of the pills by herself before, but it never works. Does it ever work if an addict goes cold turkey on their own? I'm sure it has to sometime, just not in this instance.

I think she'll be gone for a few days. She's packed a couple bags, and her mom is driving her up there. She has to get checked out in the ER first and be medically cleared, then she's off to the rehab clinic where they're holding a bed for her. She's not going to get to see the kids for the entire time she's there, which is killing her. I think I can go and visit her, but the kids have to stay.

It's going to be extremely hard, but I think in the end this is the best thing that could have happened.

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Om nom nom.

Oliver had his first "real" baby food last night. By which I mean the Gerber canned variety. He ate almost half a jar of pears in one go.

I just got done feeding him his breakfast now, and he ate a whole bowl of pears, rice cereal, and formula mixed together. At this rate he's not even going to be able to fit into his sister's diapers.

Speaking of which, that little jerk knows what's she's doing when she shits her pants. She doesn't tell us when she does and tries to hide when we tell her to get on the bed to get changed. She has used her potty many times, and wakes up with a dry diaper in the morning. She is just refusing to use it! If I didn't know any better I'd say it's out of spite. Make her Mommy and Daddy spend an extra $50 a month to keep her in diapers. Bah. Bah, I say.

Friday, September 11, 2009

And so the betoothening begins.

Crystal noticed yesterday that Oliver's first two bottom teeth have started to show. I'm both very excited and very apprehensive about this. We know how bad he was before when the teeth were still down in his gum, what's he going to be like now that they're actually trying to break out?

Better make sure we have plenty of iced chewies available...

Thursday, September 10, 2009

I think I like it better when she still said "hampire."

I love being a father. I truly, truly do. I know lately I've been making a lot of comments, both on here and on Facebook and Twitter, about how I'm so stressed out and my kids are bad, etc, etc. While that's true, sometimes, I have to say that for the most part I couldn't really have asked for better kids.

Evelyn is hilarious in almost every way, even if she still has a tantrum or two a day (she's only almost three, so we have to give her some credit). Some of the things she comes up with boggle my mind. "Where did she learn that?" is a common phrase my wife and I share. I'm sure most of it comes from TV and movies, since I don't really regulate what my daughter watches. Sure, her TV is usually turned to Nickelodeon, Cartoon Network. or PBS, but Crystal and I don't change what we're watching on our TV or computer, so she frequently comes out to play with us and gets sucked in to what we're watching.

I guess that's not completely true. If it's something extremely violent or there's a sex scene, we will change it or turn it off. I don't want her to be totally sheltered, but neither do I want her to be some sort of toddler pervert hacking someone's head off.

Last night I was watching Fringe, and it was episode with the genetically altered creature that was attacking people and "impregnating" them with its stinger. In the scene where Charlie is on the table with his shirt off and they are examining him, Evelyn said "Oh no! That pretty man is hurt! The doctors going to make him all better?"

Excuse me? Man with a shirt off is now a "pretty man?" Just what the hell is Crystal letting you watch, or what is she teaching you, when I'm at work? Did she actually determine that he is in good physical condition and is indeed a pretty man, or is just the fact that his shirt is off?

She told Crystal the other night that she was going to kick her ass because Crystal was touching her hair. When we said "Excuse me? What did you just say?" she immediately clutched on to Crystal and said "I'm very sorry Mommy!"

Not only did she know she said something inappropriate, she knew how to suck up to try and get out of trouble. She's a damn evil genius. I already know there's no hope for me, because she's going to learn how to pull my strings as soon as she possibly can. I'm going to be the biggest sucker Dad the world has ever seen. The only good thing is that I don't have any credit and I doubt I'll be making any more money by the time she's a teenager, so it simply won't be possible for me to spoil her as bad as she's going to want it. I suppose, though, that I should attempt to actually raise her right instead of having to put up with it. But that's no fun!

As far as the other spawnling goes, Oliver has finally come into his own a little bit. He's no longer the screaming ball of intensity that he was for the first few months. Now he's mostly happy and friendly unless there is something that he wants. He will always let you know when he's hungry or needs his diaper changed, and you can always tell when he's sleepy because he can't keep from rubbing his eyes (and the skin around them turns red pretty quickly when it's time for him to sleep), so he makes plenty of noise then, but the rest of the time he's pretty good. Finally.

He's started laughing and giggling, and sometimes it seems he will talk to himself for hours. Just random bursts of squeaks and babbles. He's also discovered his feet, and loves to roll around on his back while grabbing his toes. I told him to save that for his audition tapes down the road in case he needs money.

Yesterday he was on the floor, rolling from his back to his stomach and then back again, when he farted really loud. He immediately stopped and opened his eyes very wide, and then he let out this burst of laughter. It was the first time I ever noticed him realizing he could fart.

As for him playing around on the floor, I predict that he'll be crawling within a month or so. He can get up on his arms, and up on his knees, he's just trying to figure out how to do both at the same time.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

The shame!

I haven't written anything here in much, much too long. I apologize, Mr. Internet. I'm sorry. I'm finding it difficult to make the time or energy to even clean the house or stay in a good mood, so stuff like this has taken a backseat.

I promise that once I'm feeling less stressed and we're more on track I'll find the time to write on here.

Otherwise I did make a Twitter account today, because I hate myself and finally couldn't stay away.