Tag: rage

2 Under 2: My wife left me (#062)

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Oof.  Even out of context, writing those words stings, and I hope that I’ll never have to write those specific words again.

But yes, mythical wife took #2 and went to go spend a few days with her parents, and I am at home with #1.  No, this did not stem from a fight and we’re already on the rocks after two years of marriage.  It was a call that she made on account of observing the fact that I’ve been operating at a stress level of 170 out of 100 and it’s only been getting worse over the last few weeks as the job that I’ve already lost my favor for tends to get seasonal this time of year, adding to the fuel of anxiety, frustration and negative short fuse, and that I could use a little bit of a break in from the constant screaming and very hands-on requirement of #2.

She’s not wrong at all, but the days leading up to this, I had a hard time digesting the whole plan, no matter how much I actually did need some quiet time.  No matter what anyone tells me, I can’t help feel a sense of failure or shortcoming at being a partner and father to my children, because I have been becoming increasingly short and miserable dealing with two under two, and the sheer lack of time I’ve had since the arrival of #2 to occasionally catch my breath, decompress and feel like a normal human being again.

But I really did need a break.  Pretty much since #2’s arrival, I haven’t had 30 minutes to myself where I haven’t been working, sleeping or being actively hands on as a dad, and the sheer lack of time to come back to earth has been grating at me and grating at me, every single night where I go to bed thinking about all the things I wanted to do but couldn’t do, and then it compounds each and every night.

As gross as it sounds, I’ve basically been showering once a week because I just frankly can’t find the time to do it more regularly.  Even though I know I’m getting grosser and grosser in between them, the time it takes to clean myself up seems more like a chore and a nuisance, and that I’d rather spend that 20 minutes doing absolutely anything else more self-serving than personal hygiene.

A similar sentiment exists for sleep itself, where in the past, I’d probably embark on the whole notion of revenge staying up late, where I’d sacrifice sleep for personal time because I’m so resentful that I didn’t have any time to myself that I’m going to take some in spite of the need for sleep.  Fortunately, cooler heads prevail most of the time, and I remind myself that the only ones getting hurt by me being gassed from not getting enough sleep are my wife and kids, and I opt to get sleep more often than making poor choices.

And as the days turned into weeks, my general state of being was not in a good place.  My patience deteriorated into nothingness, and just about every little thing would set me off.  #2’s frequent crying would grate at me, and I’d begun making more tasteless jokes about killing myself as a result.  All I was feeling was that every single day was wake up, work, and then clean, clean, clean baby stuff until it was time to go to sleep again, with nothing but feeding, diapers and thanklessly trying to calm a screaming baby in between everything.   And it basically began breaking me.

However, the notion that my wife has to take my fussy child away from me in order for me to not feel the like I’m burdened by responsibilities makes me feel sad, makes me feel defeated, and makes me feel overall lousy, even if it I am getting the opportunity to write in silence and stare at the wall in between the typing.  This is one of those instances where I do not feel like I have done well as a father, and it’ll probably stay with me for a while, but hopefully it will change my perspective a little bit, teach me a little more patience, and help me grow as a dad.

2 Under 2: It’s okay to get pissed (occasionally) (#061)

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

As I write a lot of these daddy brog posts, I try to weed out through a lot of the irrational and hope to ultimately be able to sift out important knowledge and bullet points that I’d hope to be able to impart and share with other like-minded fathers in the future.  Nobody’s ever come to me for advice or opinions, and I’m not about to just willy-nilly give them out unsolicited, but in the event anyone ever does, I’d want to actually be able to have some useful suggestions and opinions to share.

Anyway, for this particular post, this is actually kind of funny: obviously at this current juncture, I rarely have the luxury to be able to write at the very moment the words are formulating in my head.  But I’m so determined to write about particular things that I’ll take down notes or jot down a blurb of what it is I’m intending on writing about when I do have the time, ignoring the very important factor that my emotional state might not even be in the same stratosphere when that time actually comes.

Like this post, where I’m as calm as a hindu cow now, as opposed to the mental state I was in when the idea for this post came to be.  I mean, look at the blurb I wrote:

8/22 – dad brog – it’s okay to be pissed off and upset with a difficult baby.  it doesn’t mean i love my children any less, but holy fucking shit do i get sick and tired of their bullshit when they’re screaming all the fucking time.  i know this is the time to be savoring and enjoying all the moments of their rapidly moving newborn stage, but i’d be lying if i couldn’t wait for the colic, the fussing, shit sleep habits and the endless screaming to be grown out of.  i get absolutely dick done on a daily basis because while my wife is on maternity leave, i work my ass off doing double duty parenting while not pissing people off at work by being afk so much, and when i’m on paternity leave, i’ll just be doing double duty parenting work then too.  i get no fucking time off ever, and it’s hard to keep my mental state above water sometimes.

As the kids would say, he mad.  But as I often believe, things said in the heat of frustration are often the most honest, and even looking back at that wall of text rambling, I don’t disagree with any of it.  And that’s one of the things that I would probably impart onto other future dads, and even moms because frustration doesn’t really have a gender associated to it.

That being said, what I would definitely tell all new parents, is that it’s okay to get pissed off, occasionally.  Because raising kids is hard, often frustrating, and sometimes, all the mantras to remind ourselves to be patient just won’t cut it, and we just need to let ourselves get pissed off and blow off some steam in order to bring ourselves back to level.  I imagine we all want to believe that our children are nothing short of perfection and they do nothing wrong, but that’s all bullshit, they’re going to do things that annoy us and piss us off and that it’s okay to acknowledge such behavior as bullshit and it’s okay to be tired of it, because we get tired of the bullshit of adults, why shouldn’t the same apply to babies?

I believe it’s important to not bottle things in, because little good can come from holding our emotions in for too long, lest we eventually blow up, and then have a word vomit like the blurb above, worse off if it were something in the physical world.  Obviously, little is done in front of my kids as far as my frustrations go, often times I just walk out of the room or tag out to mythical wife, and then I go throw a tantrum in another room or outside of the view of my kids.

As far as my lack of time goes, hopefully that is something that eventually rectifies itself as my newborn grows and settles into a routine, most importantly a structure sleeping schedule.  Because it does get frustrating and does get mentally challenging, when I don’t have the capabilities to turn dad mode off, even for just an hour or so.

But until then, I just want to tell myself and all other new parents, that it’s okay to occasionally get pissed off.  It’s going to happen to the best of us, whether or not we want to admit to it, but it’s human nature, and it’s completely okay.

2 Under 2: Critical mass (#060)

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

This is my general schedule:

  • wake up at 7:20 so I can have ten minutes to let the dog out, feed the dog, take a piss, and get #1’s milk ready
  • Get #1 out of bed and pray to god (1) she hasn’t leaked out of her overnight diaper because she sleeps face down and butt up and no diaper company has figured out how to solve gravity
  • If she hasn’t wet herself and I don’t have to strip sheets, change outfits and give her a comprehensive wipe down, I bring her down to start her day
  • Between 7:30-9:00 I hang out with my kid and pray to god (2) she’s not in a cranky mood and going to whine and fuss all morning like she is at the time I’m writing this down. On weekdays, I’m also technically on the clock as of 8:30, so I low-key act like I’m active at work but I’m just monitoring work on my work phone, and praying to god (3) that nothing substantial happens, but if it does then I have to actually work while placating a toddler for until our nanny shows up or my wife relieves me
  • On weekdays, by like 8:50 I’m in my office so that I can prepare for my workday for a job I’ve completely soured on and want out of. On Mondays and Wednesdays, I have 9 am meetings where often times I’m the one driving them because in spite of the technical competency everyone is required to have in order to have their jobs, I’m the one most capable of actually utilizing WebEx, Acrobat and Outlook. All other days, I may actually have a few minutes to breathe and compose myself on company time, but those are few and far between as I am often playing catch-up on the work that doesn’t get done because I’m often playing dad throughout the workday (despite having a hard paid nanny and wife home on maternity leave).
  • Throughout most workdays despite being on the clock, I’m pulled away multiple times to assist with #2, which are usually burps and diaper changes because mythical wife is doing her duty of pumping so that #2 can eat. However this often puts me behind on my workflow and has a trickle down effect to where I have to make up the time somewhere
  • At some point during workdays as well as weekends, I try and spend some time to begin cleaning the numerous bottles and pump parts we go through in order to feed and provide for #2. If we didn’t have two sterilizers, I would literally never be able to catch up ever
  • At noon every day, #1 goes down for her nap. This is a 2.5 hr window where only one child has to be cared for, provided her frequent screaming and crying doesn’t wake #1 up, to which I pray to god (4) daily does not happen
  • By 2:30, #1 is awakened and it’s back to 2 under 2 time, except now the nanny is clocked out, and it’s my wife and I dealing with things with me back to low-key pretending to have full undivided attention to work for the next three hours and praying to god (5) that my bosses who have no respect for core hours or late afternoon meeting etiquette don’t drop a 4 or 4:30 meeting on my head
  • 5:30 is when I’m officially off the clock, but often times due to my juggling acts there’s always a few somethings that need to be resolved, and I might have to punch in an extra 30-45 minutes to settle things down, provided my children will cooperate
  • 6:30(ish) is #1’s bath time, followed by wind down for a 7 pm bedtime. Mythical wife and I have been having to divide and conquer between two kids here and she’s often caring for a screaming #2 while I’m taking care of #1
  • By around 7:15, we’re back down to one kid, but #2 is still too early to have any routine since she’s more or less in survival mode, of eat, sleep, scream bloody murder, and any order of those three activities. It’s at this time mythical wife and I talk about how starved we are, indecisions about dinner, and how most of the local restaurants we like seem to close at 8 and we’re too late to put in a takeout order because I probably won’t get there by 8, so we eat Chick Fil-A or Zaxby’s all the time if we don’t have any palatable leftovers in the fridge
  • From dinner to bedtime, mythical wife and I play hot potato with #2 because this is the time she’s been getting colic-ky and screaming bloody murder and I’m praying to god (6) she won’t wake up #1, but the majority of the physical caring falls on me since she still has to pump a few more times to keep up with #2’s increasing eating
  • Anywhere from 11-midnight, we migrate up to the bedroom which usually feels like a meat locker now that our HVAC has been replaced, and wind #2 for the night with final feeds and diaper changes and praying to god (7) that there’s no colic or stomach aches and she’ll actually go to sleep before 1 am
  • Once #2 is down for the night, it’s typically far too late and I’m usually so gassed that I’m not even in the mood to hate-stay up late just so I can feel a shred of having two seconds for myself to not be in dad mode, and then go to bed anxious at not getting to have any me-time to unwind and feeling fried because I’m 6-7 hours from starting all this over again while also knowing there will usually be one mid-sleep wake up to feed and change #2, and I pray to god (8) that it’s just one time

If you’ve read this far and have been keeping count, you might notice that there are usually at least eight prayers to god and fewer minutes in the day where I don’t have to be a dad.

I’m sure that last part sounds selfish and gives off the impression that I don’t want to be a dad, which couldn’t be any further from the truth. However, one of the pieces of advice I was given going into parenthood was the importance of not losing one’s identity to it, to which I definitely agree that there’s definitely a balance to try and maintain when it comes to being a parent and being ourselves.

I’m in a stretch where I’ve been incapable of having the time at all to be able to switch off being dad, and having any time at all for myself to be myself. I haven’t run in over a month now, I barely have the capacity to watch any television; only really getting to when stacked on top of less effort baby activities, and most importantly to me, I have next to no time at all to write.

In fact that only reason why this post even exists is that I’ve composed it entirely in a note on my phone, while #1 was literally strapped to my head because she’s having one of those days where if dad’s not carrying her, she’s going ballistic, and I’m up to her current height off the ground at how over her bullshit I am right now, well at critical mass at how fried I am at being in dad mode for so long, and so I just strapped her in and began writing on my phone while monotonously walking in circles. At least she’s not wailing anymore.

Like most topics I write about that sound like they suck balls and might deter other bros from thinking about having kids, this would go into the category of “someday we’ll look back and laugh at this,” but in my case I look forward to the days when I can tell my kids how much they made my life pretty insufferable when they were babies.

2 Under 2: Up there with teething – colic (#059)

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

While raising my first child, I determined that of all the rigors that babies and parents go through, was teething.  The times in which the tiny chompers of our offspring are boring their way up through the gums and into the world, to help them level up in terms of foods they can eat and sensations they can experience.  It’s obviously painful and frequent, given that the average child has around 20 total teeth, and every time it seemed apparent that #1 was going through some teething, the days were full of lots of crying, lots of drool, occasional vomiting, and struggles to sleep, leading to some very exasperated parents and one definitely fried dad.

Well, with #2 a little over a month old now, I think mythical wife and I are experiencing yet another new thing: colic.  Basically periods of time when the baby goes completely apeshit ballistic nuclear and is screaming their heads off for an inconveniently long duration, and there doesn’t seem to be an explanation for it.  I mean seriously:

Unfortunately, there is no definite explanation for why this happens. Most often, colic means simply that the child is unusually sensitive to stimulation or cannot “self-console” or regulate his nervous system. (Also known as an immature nervous system.) As she matures, this inability to self-console—marked by constant crying—will improve. Generally this “colicky crying” will stop by three to four months, but it can last until six months of age.

I read shit like this, and my thoughts usually go in the direction of, how long as the human race been in existence, as well as existing in the age of modern medicine and diagnosis, and nobody’s still been able to figure this shit out?

Needless to say, it’s evident that #2 has occasional colic, and when it starts, it’s basically the worst scenario in the world.  Seriously, I’ve never had suicidal thoughts in my life before sitting there with an inconsolable newborn screaming their lungs out and there being seemingly absolutely nothing in the world that can bring them down.  Blowing my head off, or jumping off a cliff seems like a preferable alternative to trying and failing to calm a colic-ky baby back to earth.

And as often times the case during this second go-around, I’m ashamed to admit just how often I lose my cool and let it get to me.  It’s like I know that parenting is excruciatingly difficult, and I did sign up for this, but to me, and by no fault of anyone much less my precious #1, we have comparisons we’re capable of making, and when didn’t go through it so badly the first time around, but are going through it horrifically the second, it creates that space for their to be additional frustration.

All the same, good or bad, these kinds of posts exist to be the real life truth to how parenting really is going for someone like me, and I do want to remember the things that I can hopefully look forward to in the future as talking points to remind my children of in the future when they’re older, wiser, and can comprehend words in the event that they find this shit on their own. 

The daunting reality is additionally the fact that we’re still so early on that teething hasn’t even yet come into play, but considering how #2 has been so far, I can only make an educated guess that I’ll go back to thinking teething is the biggest cancer on the planet again in 4-6 months.

Thanks, I hate it

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I like baseball.  I like wrestling belts.  You’d think a collaboration between the WWE and MLB to release team-themed replica wrestling belts would be a layup for a guy like me, right?

If you think so, you couldn’t be any more fucking wrong.

An obvious cash-grab for starters, but all I see when I think about the fact that there are going to be 20-30* belts that will be put into production starting in the 2022 season, all I see are 20-30 blets that stand in the way of the WWE getting off their lazy asses and actually making replicas of the only fucking WWE blet I want left, the NXT UK Tag Team Championship.

*why anyone would want a replica belt for teams like the Rays, Rockies, Reds, Marlins or Orioles is completely beyond me, but homers are homers for a reason

For the record, I don’t just hate these MLB-WWE collab belts, I hate every other belt out there that’s not an actual active or historic belt.  I hate all the shitty tribute belts that WWE makes that takes existing plates and slaps them onto some overly-designed shitty straps themed to a hall of famer, and calling it a tribute.  I hate Xavier Woods’ and Tyler Breeze’s shitty YouTube show belts that have come into existence ahead of the only active fucking belt without a replica available.  I hate when they take some shitty stinky brown leather and wrap it around an Attitude-era World championship and call it a Mankind tribute.

But both MLB and the WWE really like money, and it really is low-hanging fruit to make these and watch them sell a justifiable number of them to warrant the decision to produce them.  I can’t hate on the business of it, I just hate that these things are definitely going to stand in the way of what I actually want.

And frankly, given the news over the last months of NXT kind of being rumored to being shifted back into a true developmental territory, who’s to say that any of the NXT and NXT UK blets will even get to be sold for much longer in the future, especially if they’re deactivated and removed from television.

Only hardcore blet-heads like myself may have noticed that for about four days, the WWEShop released the NXT Women’s Tag Team Championship Replicas that’s still listed as available in the Euro store, but was already taken down from the American site, which initially had me curious that they took it down in order to have a brand new blet available at promotional discount, but seeing as how it hasn’t been brought back, it makes me wonder if it’s more the possibility that the blets will be deactivated on television, and therefore not needing replicas to be sold online.

As far as the NXT UK Tag blets, I’m beginning to think that they’ll never even be made in the first place, because perhaps the division as a whole might get folded up, if the talking heads surrounding Vince McMahon in Stamford see them as a risky ROI.

At least I’ll have an Atlanta Barves blet available to me with the cash I’ve been sitting on for literal years, waiting for the one blet I actually wanted.

2 Under 2: If you’ve ever said this (#055)

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment
baby’s first bird

This, or anything like this, to me, or to anyone who was expecting a child not their first: “oh if your first child was good, that means the second one is going to be a nightmare”

Fuck you.  Just fuck you.  Why in the fuck would anyone want to put these ideas into the heads of parents knowing that they’re already going to be re-embarking onto the already tremendously difficult path of new parenthood, but knowing that the subsequent children are already pegged to be nightmares?  That fucking sucks, and I genuinely mean it when I want to tell everyone who insinuated this to me, that fuck you.

It has come from friends, it has come from family, and it has come from colleagues, all the same.  I know it’s just conversation, it has no bearing on the fate of our relationships, but fuck you all the same.

I say all this because I am living this.  As much as I love my second child and will continue to love my second child, there’s no sugar coating the genuine difference in difficulty with #2 than there was the first time around.  #1 was a vastly more chill and low-maintenance baby, and I know comparisons are inevitable no matter how much I can tell myself to try and not make so many, but there’s no denying that #2 has been substantially more challenging, and it has been testing my patience on a daily basis since her arrival.

I’ll go ahead and say it, just about every single night since her arrival has sucked.  This is no knock on my child, but because her circadian rhythm is all out of whack and night is day and day is night, when it’s time for conventional sleep is when the most challenges emerge, and mythical wife and I have been pushed to our breaking points numerous times, and I’ve gotten angry and broken way more than I’d like to admit.  Now things have improved slightly since I’m writing things in retrospect at this point, but without question, the first two weeks, every single night sucked, and I burned out repeatedly.

Accurate to this very second, #2 exists solely in three states of being: sleeping, eating, or screaming her head off bloody murder.  There is seldom any moments of normalcy; typically what seems normal or calm are usually precursors to indigestion-related screaming bloody murder, or the next starving like a UNICEF child screaming bloody murder.  Calm is when she falls asleep, but it’s really only a matter of time before the clock gets too close to the next feed, and if a bottle is not prepared in anticipation, it’s going to be eight minutes of agony of waiting for a bottle to warm while she’s screaming her head off the whole time.

Suffice to say, it’s back to being Desmond from Lost, where we exist on these windows of time of 90-120 minutes where she dozes off where we can catch our breath, and if we don’t prepare well, then it’s a punishment of more soul-grating screaming until a bottle is in #2’s mouth.

By no means do have any feelings other than love for my second child, but at the same time, there’s no way I’m not going to document any of the bullshit and how much she’s driven me mad in the first few weeks of her life.  I love my child and I love both my kids, and I love being a dad.  But I also believe in being honest and transparent, and relay the fact that not every aspect of parenthood is a walk in the park.

In fact, I already look forward to the days when my daughters are older and savvy, and I can tell them stories of how #2 was a nightmare baby early on.  Or better yet, when the day eventually comes when I become a grandfather, and I can relay stories to my daughters whom might becoming new moms about how #2 was a ballistic disaster, and that it’s almost ironic payback that she’ll have to endure a crying baby of her own, much as mythical wife and I had to endure her.

I love my daughter.  I love my kids.  But this is reality and in the spirit of transparency and honesty, these are the stories that I’ll tell about it all, good and hellacious

2 Under 2: You know nothing, Jon Snow (#054)

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

When it was revealed that I would be having a second child just 16 months after my first child, I tried to mentally prepare myself to treat everything as one, really really long child raising experience, and to not get too complacent in the time between children, so that I wouldn’t be blindsided by when everything inevitably goes tits up once the #2 arrives.

Yeah, telling myself all this stuff for nine months is easy, but trying to not let it affect life in general is a completely different ballgame.  Needless to say, no matter how much I tried to mentally prepare myself, few things can really physically prepare you for the rigors of newborn babies, even more so when you’ve there’s additionally a toddler that commands a tremendous amount of time, energy and attention on top of it.

I wanted to believe that mythical wife and I were better prepared as second-time parents, but we’ve learned that there are already many circumstances that are different now that have completely de-pantsed us, and rendered us as helpless and defeated as brand new parents probably feel, no matter how much advice they get, books they read, or any other means of preparation they embark on.

Mainly, the difference between #2 and #1 is the full-term versus a premature birth, and the fact that there was no NICU stay needed for #2, and we were really able to start being parents from day 1, unlike the first time, where we basically had to relinquish care of our child for 15 days, while she strengthened in intensive care.

So, in spite of all the pep-talks, preparation and thinking we’d be ready, mythical wife and I found ourselves mostly unprepared and not ready, to deal with a newborn child from day 1 and not day 15.  Not to mention that no two babies are ever going to be alike, and the disposition and behavior of #2 is vastly different than #1, leading to some challenges and inevitable comparisons, no matter how much parents say they try not to make.

Mainly, I feel like the thing that we were the least prepared for was dealing with a starving newborn because mom’s milk hadn’t come in yet, and we were left struggling with a baby that was probably not getting enough to eat early on, compounded with hospital procedure that doesn’t seem to feed mothers nearly enough food to have the fuel necessary to feed their babies, which resulted in an extremely fussy and endlessly crying baby at all hours of the night, leading mythical wife and I to end up completely burned out and fried from day one.

Obviously, this is all be written in hindsight, as I’m taking my sparing opportunities to write actually writing, and things have improved nominally since then, but it’s worth documenting the struggles and emotions that occurred at the hospital, and the feelings and opinions that formulated from the experience.  That is, after all what my brog is all about, in spite of how wonky of a writing timeline things can get.

However, this isn’t to say that we were completely useless and didn’t learn a thing or two from our own experience as parents before.  Where we really seemed to shine was being prepared for the at-hospital experience itself; as in knowing what to ask for as soon as we got to our room, as well as preparing ourselves with lots of snacks and supplemental food, because in spite of the common sense that moms need to eat in order to have fuel to feed their babies with, the hospital treats them like patience from My 600 Lb. Life, giving them very strict and limited calorie meals three times a day at sporadic intervals.  Our child was already not getting enough to eat from the onset, but probably would’ve famished to death if we didn’t know what we knew going into it this time.

And one other of the few unsolicited pieces of advice that I’d give to any dad or parents for that matter: no matter if you think your parenting problems are unique and can’t possibly have been experienced by another parents – I bet you money they have, as long as you Google your issues.  You will find other parents who have experienced what you’re going through, and you’d be a fool to not leverage their experiences to try and quell your own anxieties.