The pitter-patter of little feet

  You sacrifice everything when you decide to have children. You have to be prepared to give up your freedom and independence and a bit of your identity. And when your kids actually arrive, you learn quickly that even though you prepared yourself for it, you were not really prepared at all. Given the opportunity would I do it all again? Absolutely. There were time periods in my 20's and early 30's that I wanted kids and other periods that I did not. I even broke one of my own rules when I met Melanie, about not dating someone who had kids. After I spent a couple years with Melanie, and her two boys, I decided that I really didn't want to have kids...EVER!! It is funny how things you say or do come full circle and bite you in the ass.

  Here I am, a few years older (but probably not much wiser) with a toddler and infant in tow. The irony is that I could never imagine a moment with out Apollo and Orion now. As a father, I have the burden of providing for my family, paying the bills, being the entertainment, the interference, the transportation, the counselor, the companion, the playmate, and on rare occasion (very rare), the disciplinarian. I admit to spoiling my boys rotten and doing so many of the things that "they" say you should never do with your babies and toddlers. By they, I mean the so called experts that write the books on child rearing. What do they know anyways. Every few years the theories on the subject change. I am not saying that I am doing everything right, because I am not, I am only making the point that I am doing things my way and our kids are turning out pretty cool.
  This lead in was a segue for me to confess one of our "sins". Apollo and Orion sleep in bed with us. Yes, we are the parents that didn't stick their kids in a crib in their own room and let them cry it out. I know this is blasphemy, but I couldn't stand to do that to either of my boys. In Mel's defense, she fought me on this, but only a little bit. It was our intention to transition Apollo to his own bed when he turned three, but after Melanie became pregnant with Orion, we were worried that he would feel like we were "replacing" him. Sooooooo, there has been four of us in one bed since Orion was born in August. The good news is, that as of this past week, we have started the transition of moving Apollo to his own room and his own bed. I use the term "transition" because this is going to be process. Apollo had a few melt downs just discussing the move. It took some convincing, but now Apollo is in his own bed...with me. Yeah, I hate to admit it, but that was the only way to seal the deal.

(Thanks for the shirt Uncle Gooch)

  The biggest problem is that Apollo has reached the stage where things are scary to him. He had a robotic dinosaur that he picked out himself at 18 months old. It was his favorite toy for a while. Out of the blue, his "Dino" became too scary for him. He didn't like to go into his room alone. Part of the agreement about sleeping in his room, was that we would find a home for Dino with a little boy that wasn't scared of him.

On Saturday night, after spending the day at the beach, Apollo and I got in bed. I had no sooner fallen asleep, and Apollo woke me up with "Dada, I'm really hungry." As a rule, there is no eating after bed time and especially in bed, however, under the circumstances, I cut him some slack. I told Apollo that he wasn't supposed to eat in bed. After a five minute debate and a few tears, I told Apollo that he could have something to eat, but he had to be a big boy and go get it himself. "Its too scary for me dada. Its dark." Apollo protested. "Apollo, if you want to get something to eat, you need to be brave and go get something and come back. You know where the lights are," I replied. To my surprise and amusement, Apollo hopped up from bed, and hurried out of the room. As I lay there in bed, I could hear and envision his every move. He paused outside the room, I heard him flip the light switch in the hall, followed by the pitter-patter of little feet on the hardwood floor, making their way down the hall, through the den, and into the kitchen. I then heard the sound of a 5 gallon bucket slide across the kitchen floor. The cupboard doors clanked when the bucket came to rest against them. I heard a bit of rummaging around, and then the hurried pitter-patter of feet scurrying back down the hall, pausing to turn off the light switches on the way. "Dada! I found a baby orange (tangerine)!" Apollo proclaimed excitedly. I peeled the tangerine for him and he ate it with great relish. "Dada, I'm still really hungry." "Well, you better go get some more then," I replied.

Somebody is crawling!

  The whole process repeated. Upon returning, Apollo reported, "Dada, I got some more!" He proudly raised his hand. His little fingers were clutching a bag made of netting, full of tangerines. Four tangerines later, and Apollo was fast asleep.

Cause and effect

 A new year has begun. This year promises to be an interesting one, to say the least. So many decisions to be made and things to be done. This year can hold many big changes, or very few. It is overwhelming when I look at the big picture. The dynamics of having toddlers and teens all under one roof, really puts an unbalanced spin on every decision we contemplate. What may be beneficial to the toddlers can be detrimental to the teens, and vise versa.
  The work that I do for a living has me buried in numbers and spreadsheets all day with the added bonus of dealing with retail customers and contractors, and I mean that very sarcastically. I swear that by the end of most days I have smoke coming out of my ears. There are nights that my dreams are filled with numbers and spreadsheet equations, so much so that I feel I have worked the entire night. If not for my children, I think I would give it all up to work in a nursery, propagating plants. As silly as that may sound, my ideal life would be having a couple acres in Hawaii, with a green house or two, and a hand full of chickens. I would have a farm full of exotic fragrant flowers, plants and orchids. There is something therapeutic about working with your hands and working with nature. For myself, it makes me feel connected to something real and something living.
  I feel this same connection to the living with Apollo and Orion, and they certainly are the highlight of my day. Orion is five months old as of new years day.  At this age, it is like watching a flower bud start to unfold and bloom. His personality and physical development are in high gear now, and I can see the changes on a daily basis. Orion is happy and loves to smile and laugh. I have said in previous posts that he is constantly in motion, and this is still true. For the past month, he has been getting up onto his hands and knee's. He rolls from front to back, and back to front like a champ, and scoots around the floor in pursuit of anything that catches his eye.

  Since New Year's day, Orion has  been working hard to develop his crawling skills. He is strong and instantly goes into crawling position when you place him on the floor. In his attempts to move forward, he will push his entire rear end up in the air, lifting his knees off the floor only to be left with his toes and hands contacting the floor.  It won't be long, and Orion will be moving about the house at will and getting into everything.
  Melanie has started to introduce Orion to solid food this month by feeding him rice cereal. He was not quite sure what to think of it at first, but now he attacks the spoon voraciously, and will "nurse" the cereal off the spoon.
  With the good comes the bad. Orion contracted his first nasty cold and cough over the holidays. Most of the family had been fighting off the cold since Christmas, and unfortunately, Orion ended up with it too.  He spent New Years eve and the next few days, with an atomizer in his face every few hours. He did not complain too much and took his treatments like a champ.


  What I love about this age, is how interactive infants become. Orion is turning his head in response to voices and sounds. He gets so excited when he sees his mom or myself, that he lets out a squeal, shoves both his fist to his mouth and giggles.
  My favorite game (and Melanie's least favorite) that Orion likes to play is a little game we like to call, "Let's see how far the nipple will stretch." Being the curious little guy that Orion is, he does not want to miss out on anything, even while nursing. As you might have guessed, I will use this tidbit of information for my own entertainment. I like to be extra animated while Orion is nursing. In response to my verbal stimuli, Orion will lift his head and twist it a good 90 degrees while not letting go of Melanie's nipple, at which point Melanie will yell out in pain, "OW, OW, OW, OW, OOOOOOW!"  As this never gets old to me, I will burst into laughter, followed by Apollo and then Orion.  Melanie is threatening to switch my poor, innocent little baby, to a bottle and formula, while warning me that I should probably not go to sleep that night.

  Apollo seems to be getting taller by the day. He is amazingly perceptive and listens to everything that is being said. I enjoyed having a house full of people over the holidays. Multiple conversations would be going on at the same time, and I would sit there watching and listening to Apollo, whom while playing with his toys, will repeat back everyones words and phrases, along with their chuckles and laughs. Apollo is totally oblivious that anyone is watching him when he does this and I am sure that his intent is that no one is watching. It is my belief that he is not only practicing new words, but he is adding to his repertoire of impersonations. This kid has the potential to be a comedian or a bully.
 Much to Melanie's dismay, Apollo is a tireless conversationalist. As Melanie puts it, "Every breath that comes out of his mouth has to be a word or a noise. I am exhausted by the end of the day from listening and being forced to reply to his comments and questions." Yes, Apollo is very demanding and if you do not respond to or acknowledge his comment or question, he will continue to repeat it, each time getting louder and a bit more irritated, until he is yelling at the top of his lungs. One way or another, he will get his response.

      I am fascinated by the things that Apollo knows already but even more fascinated by how he chooses to act or not act based on this knowledge. He has a great understanding of cause and effect, yet he will test the waters at every given opportunity. Upon returning home from work, I always ask Apollo about his day. Not only will he give me a play by play, but he will let me know that his mom got mad at him and the reason why. He will even confess that he is the one that was at fault. Todays debriefing went like this:
  " How was your day Apollo?" I asked.
"It was good, but mama got mad at me." he replied.
"Why"
  "I was crying because I wanted mamma to give me bites of my oatmeal with some big sprinkles and some little ones, and she was too busy," he continued.
  "Did she shake you?" I asked while acting very concerned.
  "No. She just tell's me that I need to act like a big boy now and feed myself."
  "Do you want me to be rough with mama?" I asked.
  "No, but when I was mad I wanted you to be rough with her," he stated.
  "Maybe I will just give her a whooping!" I replied with a scowl on my face. Apollo burst into laughter and replied, "Mama's gonna give you a swoopin'! She doesn't like the dada!"
 
 


  

A second chance

  I started this blog for my boys, so that they may know what they mean to me, who I am, who they are, how they came to be and to tell their story through my eyes. To paint a complete picture, there are certain stories from my own life that have played a roll in who I am.  If I look at my life in reverse, it is easy to trace each choice and life event from this moment, back to my youth, however, at the time each event or choice was presented to me, I could not have predicted the consequences or outcome that have shaped who I have become. I can tell you that had I known the consequences, I would have made many different choices. They irony is, I had to make some pretty specific decisions that would ultimately lead me to Melanie; the end result of course being Apollo and Orion. Had I done one of dozens of things different, I would not have been blessed with these amazing children.
  I have often thought about writing some of my life experiences in this blog, and I have gone back and forth on this idea. I have decided that I will on rare occasion, present a story of an event in my life, especially when its outcome affected my path in life. The story I want to tell this day, has several subplots that I have chosen to leave out as it is not pertinent the ultimate outcome of the story. This one is all about me!

Me in Hawaii 1991

Beep........beep.........beep...... I could hear a faint and distant sound in the darkness. It continued;...beep....beep. The sound was familiar yet, I could not place it. I focused on it, listening intently, trying to find the source. It was slow and irregular. As I tried to hone in on this sound, I began to notice other noises... muffled and deeper. At this point, I was straining to make out what any of the noises were. The muffled sounds began to come in clearer. Voices! Two of them. I listened more intently now, trying to discern what they were saying. But why could I not see anything? "I must be dreaming", I thought.
   I felt as if I was in that place between deep sleep and dreaming; a semiconscious state where the lines of reality are blurred by the supernatural dream world.
  As I listened, the voices became clearer. It was two men talking. At first I thought they were conversing with one another, but their speech was urgent, and not directed to each other. "What are they talking about? Who are they talking about?" I was a bit confused at this point. I wanted to wake up.

Shark taming in the Bahama's 1990

"He's not responding!" Came the first voice. "I need another (?)cc's of (?), STAT!" called the second voice. "His blood pressure is dropping!" the first voice exclaimed. "We are loosing him!" called the second voice. It was at this moment, that horror and panic ripped through my body; they were talking about me! I screamed out! At least I tried to scream... but nothing happened. I could not move. "I'm here! I'M HERE!", I screamed out again, but my mouth would not move. I tried to move my hands, my arms, my legs...I was paralyzed. I felt nothing, not even pain. I could not see anything.  I recognized the beeping now. It was a heart monitor. There seemed to be several long seconds between each beep. I was not dreaming. How could I let them know that I was alive and here?  I began to hear additional voices, female voices. I could hear people around me moving about, metal clanking, items being shuffled. I became more and more aware of my surrounding, hearing more voices; "He is still not responding!" a male voice called out again. This time I could hear the doubt in his voice, as if he was giving up on me. I pulled every ounce of consciousness I could muster, focused it into energy, and tried to move my fingers. I could not feel my fingers move, but I knew they must have. I tried again. "Doctor, he's moving his fingers!" A female voice cried out in excitement. "If you can hear me, bend your fingers twice." a male voice commanded. Again I concentrated all my energy on my left index finger and curled it in and back out twice. "Okay, he's with us!" the voice announced. A surge of excitement filled the room. I could hear the scurrying of people moving all around me. The voices began speaking directly to me now, offering words of encouragement, "Hang in there! I need you to keep fighting!"

Somewhere in Arizona 1992

  I felt relieved. Then came the pain. I began to feel a burning sensation in my chest. It grew. I began to feel as if my chest was being ripped open. It spread to my throat, and then up to my head. I tried to open my eyes but could not. I could feel the sensation returning to my arms, hands, and fingers, and then my legs. More questions were being asked of me. I answered by moving my finger; once for yes and twice for no. I became aware that I had something shoved up my nose. I felt something in my throat. I could not swallow. The pain increased as did the beeps on the heart monitor. I ached in every inch of my body. The mood of the room became calmer and more relaxed, and then came a voice; "Welcome back. We almost lost you."...

  Over the next hour, I slowly regained control over my body. Still, I could not open my eyes. I was aware of what had happened to me, but I had no clue where I was (other than a hospital) or how I got there. I finally heard a voice that I recognized. It was a lady that I was dating (that I later married and then divorced). "How is he?" She asked. "He looks a lot worse than he is. I just wanted to caution you before you see him" a male voice replied. I heard the hospital curtain pulled back. Joanne gasped, and soon I felt her grab my hand. She begin to sob. "Was he in an accident! Why is he all bloody?" She demanded. "He was in full respiratory arrest. The paramedics had to intubate him. They could not intubate him through his mouth as there was too much inflammation, so they intubated him through the nose, and that is what caused all the blood that you see". As I listened to this, Joanne began rubbing my chest with her hand. It felt as though barbed wire was being dragged across my skin. It seemed like an eternity passed before I could gather enough strength to reach my hand up and pull her hand off of me.

On the road to Baja. Thats my brother Gooch in the background!

  It was not much longer, and my doctor showed up. I was fortunate enough that not only was he on staff at the hospital they took me to, but he was also the head of the cardio-pulmonary department. "You almost died today, Mark" he announced. By this time I was able to open my eyes and look around. Aside from feeling like I had been run over by a truck, I was starting to feel better. "Do you want to get this thing out of you?" he asked as he gestured to the tube hanging out of my nose."  I nodded my head yes. He instructed me that on the count of three, he would prop me up to a sitting position, and simultaneously pull the tube out of me.
  "One, Two, Threeeeee!" Up I came along with the tube that felt like it had a fish hook on the end of it, being yanked all the way up my throat, and out my nose. I was free. What struck me the most about this moment, was looking across the emergency room, only to make eye contact with two women in scrubs, which I assume were the admitting or triage nurses, by where they were located. Their faces went pale and they were looking at me as if they were looking at a dead person that had come back to life.

  At the time that this happened, I was suffering from very severe asthma. Asthma aside, I was in really good shape. I ran and worked out several times a week. My asthma was always triggered by allergies or by drinking too much water on an empty stomach. As weird as that sounds, water was always the biggest trigger, as was the case this day. I had been working for a messenger service in the Los Angeles/ Hollywood area at the time. We catered, in large, to the music industry. I happened to be training a new hire that day, and he was a passenger in my car at the time. I had just finished drinking a liter of water and felt the asthma attack coming on. I was on my way to Sony records to make a drop. The company I worked for had a substation there. The asthma attack was coming on hard enough and fast enough, that I knew I was in trouble. I decided to pull over on a side street one block away from Sony. I told my passenger what was happening, and that I needed to get out of the car to get some air. As I climbed out of my car, I felt as if I was drowning. I remember thinking to myself as I was struggling to breath, "This is where I am going to die. I don't want to die here." A car came around the corner and pulled over. Everything went black.
  What happened after I passed out was a bit of luck. My guardian angles were watching over me that day. The car that I saw coming around the corner as I blacked out, was an emergency room doctor on his way to work. He turned down that street for some unknown reason. He said he never went to work that way. He saw me as he turned the corner and recognized that I was in trouble. He pulled over, hopped out of his car and apparently grabbed me as I collapsed. My passenger called 911, and then ran to Sony records to alert my coworkers. My coworkers came running up to where I lay, about the same time as the paramedics arrived. The paramedics base was less than 1/4 mile away. They immediately went to work on me and after several failed attempts at trying to intubate me, the emergency room doctor took over and was able to place the tube, through my nose. The paramedics started forcing oxygen into the tube and then loaded me into the ambulance. Before they departed the scene, one of the paramedics told my coworkers that I wasn't going to make it and that they should notify my family. My coworkers later told me that I was completely blue, and not breathing when they took me away. After the ambulance departed, one of my coworkers called the main office and told the dispatcher that I had died. The dispatcher in turn, called Joanne. He didn't have the heart to tell her that I died, and only told her that I was taken by ambulance to Century City Hospital.

New Years Day, 1994

  I spent the next few days in the ICCU. The whites of my eyes had all turned blood red from the trauma I endured. Later they faded into yellow before returning to white. Joanne and I downplayed the severity of what had happened that day to my parents and family, as we did not want to alarm them. I did not want them to see me looking that way; defeated and vulnerable. I am not sure which was worse; the trauma of the day or the ensuing plethora of steroids and inhalers that I was pumped up with, for they next few years.

   I look back on it now, and I can't believe all that happened that day; all the very specific events that had to line up at the right place, at the right time. Had I turned down any other street, had I not been 1/4 mile from the paramedics or 1/2 mile from the hospital, had the e.r. doctor not turned down the street I was on, had my attack happened minutes earlier or even seconds later...if any one of these things were different that day, I would not be here. I would have never met Melanie, and Apollo and Orion would have never been.
  The year was 1991. The events of this day, changed me in many ways. With out going into detail, I really changed how I was treating those who were closest to me. My self pride had been riding high, and was just taken down a few notches. I had a new found respect for others and their feelings and felt as if I could be a better person.  I looked at life differently now and have a whole new appreciation for it.  I was given a second chance.