Author: dannyhong

2 Under 2: Days like today I’m over parenting (#075)

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I should be happy and excited right now.  I have received some very good personal news.  But I’m not.  I can’t be, because parenting two under two is soul sucking draining and there’s no room in my life for anything me, because I’m dealing with two crying kids all fucking day every fucking day and I have no idea when it will ever get any easier. 

#2 sucks at sleeping and doesn’t nap or stay asleep which already drains me daily, but has now devolved to where it encroaches into my one-on-one time with #1, because she’s insisting on waking up earlier than ever, despite not getting any more nap time or night sleep, so I am literally handcuffed to her from the moment I wake up until the moment I go to bed.  And to think she had one really perfect day earlier in the week where she slept until 8, had two perfect naps, and didn’t fight me Mortal Kombat when it came time to sleep.  

To make life any easier, #1 has apparently begun entering the terrible two phase where everything warrants crying and tantrums, and we’re talking real tears and snot and screaming and shunning.  And there will be moments in the day where both kids are crying, fussing, screaming, or all of the above to where I just have to stop, stand there still, and contemplate that this is where my life is at, and wondering, what. the. fuck. 

Obviously I’m not the only dad or any parent who’s ever been in this situation, but I would really like to know how other dads have fared or handled this specific scenario of simultaneously raising two under two, in similar aged kids to my own.  I need to know I’m not alone here, because I’m constantly overwhelmed, constantly overworked, often miserable, and at times completely over being a parent and just wanting a fucking break that will never happen because two under two is too much to ask of anyone to alleviate me of and I can’t rely on anyone and I don’t know any two people or don’t trust anyone to do a fraction of shit I do on a daily basis to get me one. 

I know that I’m not alone under these circumstances. I just want to hear it. 

But the disheartening thing is that I don’t know anyone in these circumstances. My friends and our generation itself are all so anti-kids or they have just one kid, or they’re fortunate enough to have family and other free care to lend hands, that it really does feel sometimes that I am alone.  

All I want for Christmas is a single day where I can turn off dad mode and live like a regular human being for a day.  Sleep without an alarm. Past 7 am. Eat when I want to eat and not when #1 eats so she doesn’t get pissed that I’m eating without her. To have a moment where I realize that I can run, write, or workout or watch tv for an hour without getting interrupted. Not be on double duty with two kids by myself for 3-5 hours a day.  Not to have to deal with pets.  To have an evening where I don’t have to sprint upstairs at a moments notice 3-5 times to pacify a kid because they can’t stay asleep.

Just one fucking day.  Happy Kwanzaa 

Oh, and my nanny just called in sick. Today’s going to be awesome.  Happy Hanukkah 

That’s an NBA Jam score

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Well, that’s one way to gain some retribution: Memphis Grizzlies blow out the Oklahoma City Thunder by an NBA historic high margin of 73 points

Back in 2018, the Grizzlies got blown out by the Charlotte Hornets by 61 points.  Now I’m too lazy to check, but I’m sure that that 61-point margin was the all-time biggest blowout in league history.

No better way to rectify being on the losing end of the worst blowout in history, than being on the winning end of the score that breaks it, and when the Grizz put up 152 points, while holding the Thunder to 79 (which was ironically what the Grizz scored in 2018), I think most people not me, will have forgotten about that woeful night in 2018.

Seriously though, 152 points?  That’s never going to not be incredible for me, who grew up in the 90s as a Pat Riley Knicks fan who’s teams routinely scored 88 points a game, while holding opponents to, well 79.  I know the NBA has tweaked rules throughout the years to boost offense, and players have learned how to ignore defense through the passage of time, but 152 points will never not look crazy to me, no matter what.

My 600 Lb. Life never fails to entertain

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

You’d think after ten seasons of My 600 Lb. Life, the series would start to show some signs of getting stale or formulaic.  I mean, it has gotten very formulaic, but it doesn’t change the fact that no matter how many seasons of the show march forward, America has no shortage of behemoths that continue to parade themselves to Houston in order to meet Dr. Now and think they’re going to hear something they haven’t seen in nine prior seasons.

The latest episode, Lacey B’s journey, had to have been one of the more depressing episodes in the series’ history.  And I’m taking into consideration the handful of episodes where the subject of the episode died, because they actually succumbed to their own weight problems.

But spoiler alert, Lacey doesn’t even make it the full twelve months that most episodes tend to lapse over, doesn’t get surgery, barely loses any weight, and frankly the question really is, why the fuck was she on the show in the first place, and why did TLC even bother airing it, which is an obviously redundant question, because she’s such a train wreck, there was no question that TLC was going to air it.

Lacey’s boyfriend whom was a little dull on the wattage side, caved to his sister’s argument of how Lacey was using him in two seconds, and she ends up suddenly homeless in the middle of nowhere in Texas, while her ex-companions basically dump off all of her belongings in College Station.  Next thing you know, she’s back in Washington State, in her old apartment that’s now suddenly empty because she tried to move her life to Houston, and in the end she lost like 15 lbs. down from her cruiserweight 591 initial weigh in, and the episode concludes in month 7, as if it were a failed excursion on Naked and Afraid.

I wonder if they’ll bother airing an episode of Where Are They Now? because Lacey basically didn’t even have a conclusive prologue to build off of.  But when they inevitably do, this might one of the few that I might actually make an effort to see.

All in all, season 10 of My 600 Lb. Life is about as good as all the others.  Big ups to episode 4’s Mike, because it was an episode where viewers like me realize just how rare it is to have a guy that’s enjoying so much white privilege compared to all of the other blobs throughout the show’s history, because he lives with his stable white parents in Ohio, has a normal, upper-middle class remote job, and doesn’t seem to have all the financial issues that just about everyone else in the show does.

And of course, Dr. Now’s patience with his patients has continued to sink to where there are more zingers and he seems to be aware of the show’s appeal to when he rips into his patients, and there’s rarely an episode where there’s not at least one good memorable quote he drops in defense of whatever bullshit excuse a new patient comes in with.

I barely have time to watch television these days, but it says something that among the few things that are still must-watch, My 600 Lb. Life is still up there.  I don’t even watch wrestling anymore, in comparison.

2 Under 2: life as an amputee (#074)

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I did not actually amputate a limb, but I may as well have lost an arm, considering how my life is basically spent handcuffed to #2.  And frankly, this post could’ve been titled life as a paraplegic, based on how her developing motor functions are teasing the evolution into baby death wish, where your kids actively try to lunge out of your single arm grasp, resulting in me needing two arms more and more often.

If it’s not obvious, this post comes from a place of angst and frustration, at just my sheer inability to accomplish, absolutely anything at all, because my entire current existence is primarily spent, metaphorically handcuffed to a 14 lb. baby. 

Of course, such is the utmost and most important priority, but I do still have personal goals and daily tasks that I’d like to even have a modicum of a chance at being able to do, but can’t on a regular basis, for the aforementioned reason.

But when your kid fights nap time screaming bloody murder for 45 minutes, and then only sleeps for 15, all I can think about is wanting to blow my brains out because I can’t accomplish anything at all because there’s no fucking schedule and just endless chaos and I’m trying to keep up a put-together facade when I’m just feeling so dejected and exasperated inside so I write about it instead since nobody reads my shit so it’s the perfect balance of expressing it but keeping it private still. 

Honestly though, I really shouldn’t be this aggravated. It’s not like I have any clue of what to do with my time when not on dad duty anymore.  Sure, I’d like to write more but it’s hard for me to start if I know I could have 15 minutes or I could have 45, and even the threat of interruptions is usually enough to deter me from even starting.  Same applies to watching the endless queue of shows and movies that I’d like to watch but probably will never get to because, kids.  

So I usually sit directionless unable to start anything that probably needs some attention like Christmas shopping or putting together my own Christmas list for all inquiring parties, but I can’t focus and I can’t get anything done because I’m pretty broken, and since I’m on the unpaid portion of my leave, I’m becoming pretty broke, and I end up feeling all dilapidated and like a failure because I’m caving to my frustration and I’m getting nothing done but bitching about how I think my life is so difficult. 

(Written on my phone.  With mostly one hand)

Zombie shark, est. 1979

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

When I saw the clickbait headline on social media for this, I of course clicked it, but I already knew that this was going to turn into a brog post: Dr. Mario releases what ultimately becomes a zombie shark, off the coast of Spain

To horror fans, all one has to do is say the words “zombie shark,” and literally only one thing pops into their minds: Lucio Fulci’s Zombi 2 film, that very notoriously, contained a sequence, in which a zombie takes on, a shark.

Spoiler alert, as if anyone’s going to read this, drop what they’re doing and rush out to go find out how and where to watch Zombi 2, but the shark rips off the arm of the zombie and more or less “wins” in the sense that it swims away still living.  However, the zombie definitely succeeds at ripping a chunk off of it to eat, but it’s fairly unclear that it landed any actual bites onto the shark, since sharks skin are pretty tough.  But the zombie is all over the shark for some bit of time, so it is presumed that it probably had to have gotten some bites in before its arm is ripped off and the conflict is over.

Well, it only took 42 years but it looks like we’ve got our answer to that specific scene from that documentary.  Clearly, the zombie got some bites in, or perhaps it’s by virtue of the shark ingesting some of that wack-ass green zombie blood, but it clearly got turned, was caught by Dr. Mario, presumably studied because it was a fucking zombie shark, and then released into the wild, where some other sharks whooped its ass, leaving it to actually, ultimately die, finally.

Really though, I’m not sure why it’s some sort of shocker that a shark that’s all mangled open is still searching for food.  When they’re at full health, it’s all sharks do in the first place, I’m not sure why one being practically ripped open would behave any differently, than to seek out food before it eventually succumbed.

All the same, good on the internet for giving all us zombie fans reason to make the never-not entertaining reference to Fulci’s zombie vs. shark, because even to this day, there’s never been a more wildly insane fight sequence than this was.

I don’t really want to shop this year

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

In years past, I enjoyed holiday time shopping.  I would scour the interwebs in advance and come up with plans of shit to purchase for myself, for famiry, for friends and whomever might actually warrant getting a gift for.  And by the time Thanksgiving rolled up, I would go start going gangbusters on purchasing things from all the retailers that might or might not have had early, Thanksgiving day, or Brack Friday deals.  By the time December rolled around, I was mostly done with my holiday shopping, save for those closest to me that I’d want to keep getting things for maybe.

Obviously, the big variable in those years past was the availability of time, and having the time to do research, think about other people, and to come up with plans, and seeing as how this year can mostly be summed up that as far as time goes, I just never fucking have any, and as a result, I look at holiday shopping and gift giving as something more a nuisance and an obligation, as much as it’s something that I’m feeling enthusiastic and eager to partake in.

Yes I understand how curmudgeon and shitty that sounds, but that’s where I’m at right now.  Overwhelmed, overworked, exhausted and perpetually pushed past my limits, that I’m finding it incapable to enjoy things I’ve enjoyed in the past, much less any and most of the little things that might’ve lifted my spirits in the past.

Additionally, I’m not working now, as I opted to, and it turned out to be extremely essential, in taking my extended leave of absence from work beyond my normal paid paternity time, but that also means it’s 1.5 months of not getting paid, as my job is secure, but the paychecks stop.  So I have financial concerns on top of everything else, and I’m wondering what wells in which I should be pulling the necessary funds to make sure my famiry and loved ones can actually have some gifts from me, because we’re all capitalists and all feel obligated to buy shit for one another.

As the Thanksgiving week rolled around, my email box was bombarded by e-blasts and messages from retailers that I ordinarily would want to browse through.  Brack Friday prices now, extended, Cyber Monday, etc., etc., for an entire week.  Of course I wanted to look through and peruse and hope to find some shit for myself or my loved ones, but with what fucking time?  I don’t have any.  By the time I have any time to do anything of the sort, that time is spent cleaning shit and resetting shit for another day of parenting, before I’m too gassed and tired to do anything else.

As the week progressed, and in what fleeting moments I might’ve had that I could have done something so frivolous, I was basically at the point where every commercial website I’d go to had countdowns at the tops of their page ticking down the amount of time left that such deals would be in place.  And I hate working against clocks, much less visible ones, and then I’d remind myself, with what fucking money? And then ultimately just start closing browser tabs, and sink back into my general hole of angst.

Believe me, I don’t like admitting all this stuff as much as I am putting it in writing for it to be immortalized, but that’s where I’m at.  It’s like, I only want to shop for my immediate household, and would like to be alleviated from the feeling of obligation to shop for anyone outside of it.  Because that’s all my world really is these days, the people within my own walls, and I have no idea what anyone outside of it might want, or needing to exert thoughtfulness, because it’s just adding unnecessary stress and anxiety to me, and I really don’t need it.

Ultimately, I’m going to just start kicking down doors and demanding ideas for what to get people, because we’re still in a pandemic, I don’t speak or interact with people enough to have ideas of thoughtful observational gifts, and I kind of just want to be done with needing to feel like I have to shop for others.

Maybe, hopefully, in the future years, this’ll go back to being typical slaves to capitalism, where we’ll all be happy to throw our money around at shit nobody really needs, but at least we’ll be in better spirits.

Happy holidays!

Not feeling that thankful this year

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Oversleeping was my fault. A lot of the day’s issues don’t happen if we don’t oversleep, but it’s simply something that can happens when living a life as exhausting and draining as ours of raising two under two can be.  But it’s how the rest of the day transpired that has left me feeling few emotions aside from disappointment, regret, and the polar opposite of what Thanksgiving is supposed to be all about. 

The irony is that even if we don’t oversleep, there’s no guarantee that we would’ve made it to the airport on time.  Airlines appear to have tightened up two hours in advance rules to where they don’t even check people in for flights once within 105 minutes.  Long appears to be gone the days of when I could roll in with 75 minutes to go, no checked bag, TSA precheck and be ready to board group 1.  But with kids, all the kids’ stuff, and checked bags, that creates a tremendous amount more room for complications.

Ironically, regardless of if we left at our originally intended time, there’s little chance we would’ve made it on time anyway, because Atlanta airport’s parking is basically the worst lot in the galaxy, and it took us probably 30 minutes to find a place to park, and we would’ve missed the check in window anyway.

At this point, I’m kind of ready to punt; our original plan was to get us there as efficiently as possible, and pivoting with kids and checked bags never seems like a good idea to me, but mythical wife seemed more determined to see my family than I was, so after a 47 minute phone call with the airline, $465 basically paying for a full fare, we’re rebooked for a later flight to a different airport that gets us in four hours later, which slashes my already short trip and I’m wondering if it’s even worth it. 

Calling my mom to give an update is met with more disappointment and aggravation at the change of plans instead of any modicum of empathy or understanding. After my mom asks if we can uber to dinner after the money and effort to make sure the girls had car seats waiting for them, I’m already having regrets for not punting and heading into this trip with more dread than any sort of anticipation or excitement, that my family is finally getting to meet my kids for the very first time. 

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