New Father Brogging, #002

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Despite my sporadic writing habits leading up to the birth of my child, I ironically seem to be finding more time to sit down and write now that she’s come into the world.  Mostly on account of the fact that as she was five weeks early, she’s unfortunately not home yet, and is still at the NICU, where her frail little preemie body is playing catchup under the safe and watchful eyes of medical professionals.

Ultimately, mythical wife and I both know that she’s exactly where she needs to be in her current state, and we are eternally grateful to the kind and caring staff of the hospital that has been definitely providing excellent care for our daughter.  However, when the days are over, the reality is that she is still not home with us, and it’s an agonizing struggle at the end of each night when the time comes for us to part ways with our daughter, while she stays in the NICU while we leave her and head back to our house, empty of human children.

She was born 12 days ago, but it doesn’t really quite feel like we’re parents just yet, as when the time comes in which we go to bed, it’s like we’re a married couple with no children, since there’s no kid to put to sleep and marvel over the fact that it’s a life that we created together.

We spend around 6-8 hours a day in the NICU with our kid, but until the day she comes home, there really is something kind of missing from the whole experience of having a child.  We feel like parents when we get to change her diapers, feed her, and rock her to sleep, but the wholesome feelings always end when the realization hits that we need to go home to rest and take care of ourselves, so we have the energy and capacity to do it all over again the following day.

Our daughter’s showing progress on a daily basis, but the fact of the matter is that it’s still an indeterminate amount of time before she’s given the green light to come home.  Her last real hurdle is to continue to demonstrate the ability to eat more and out of a bottle, more consistently, and subsequently gain weight.  Every day where she drains an entire bottle is akin to a playoff win, but behind the scenes we don’t know if we’re in the lightning-quick MLB playoffs, or if we’re in the endless vortex known as the NBA’s playoffs.

Back home, I’ve actually accomplished a lot of the tasks around the house that mythical wife and I agreed needed to get done before the arrival of our kid, because once she got here, we know they probably won’t be gotten to.  I’ve painted entire sections of our house, I’ve stained the entire fence around the house.  I’ve swapped out old outlets and switches for new, tamper-proof versions of them for future kid safety.  I’ve unboxed strollers and learned how to install car seats into both mine and mythical wife’s cars.  Just about every piece of furniture for our baby’s nursery is assembled and the room just about finished.

I’d wager to guess that most parents who ever have to go through the experience of their children going into the NICU go through the same kind of anxieties and frustration that mythical wife and I are going through.  I know there are many out there who have it way worse than we do in terms of state of the baby upon arrival or how little or long they stay in the NICU, but when the day is over, we’re all in the same state of where we as parents go home, while our children remain behind, which is a shitty feeling no matter how you look at it.

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New Father Brogging, #001

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

At the time I’m writing this, my daughter is officially one week old.  It’s hard to believe that it’s been but just a week since she was born, because there are times where the last few days have felt like eternities, and then there are times where the hours have flown by, leaving me scratching my head to what just happened.

Several of those days were spent living at the hospital, as mythical wife was still recovering from surgery; and as crazy as it might sound, in spite of the uncomfortable bed, the cramped quarters, flimsy water cups, crappy television sound, and the general feeling of a lack of privacy, I kind of enjoyed it a lot.  There was an intimate feeling being there with my wife, just the two of us that’s hard to explain, but ultimately, it was the comfort in knowing that at just about any time, I had the capability to walk to the NICU to see my daughter, being nursed into readiness for the real world.

And I did just that; even the first night after birth, I personally delivered mythical wife’s colostrum to the NICU at all hours of the night, just so I could have an excuse to see my newborn daughter, even if there were all sorts of tubes, wires and hoses coming from her frail little being.  She was still the most beautiful thing I’d ever witnessed in my life, and it’s hard to not get teary-eyed just thinking about those quiet moments of just the two of us in a room with me watching over her.  I must have scrubbed my arms raw several times over, thanks to the required 2-minute scrubs in order to enter the NICU, but I’d rather deal with some dry skin than know some germs can get in and harm babies.

In fact, not a day goes by where I don’t get overwhelmed with an emotional feeling and get teary-eyed at some point, whether it’s thinking about one of the many unforgettable moments over the last week, or it’s looking at a picture of my baby and feeling what unconditional love genuinely feels like.  In other words, daddy is a great big crybaby, but I don’t really care what anyone thinks about it, because nothing is really going to change the fact that I’ll probably bawl my eyes out thousands of more times over the next few years.

What’s interesting about this period of time is that if not for the fact that my precious baby were in the picture, the general conversation around the rest of the world surrounding me would sound so much more different.

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The day that everything changed forever

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March 5th, 2020.  It was a Thursday.  I woke up at 5:58 am like I do every work day.  I brushed my teeth and went downstairs, poured myself a bowl of cereal, but instead of eating it immediately, I went to let the dogs outside, because I like my cereal a little bit soggy.  I prepared my wife’s breakfast smoothie, like I had done over the last two weeks, because she wanted to switch things up from the bacon, egg and cheese English muffins that I’d been making her every morning for the last month prior.

Mythical wife and I left for our respective jobs, and as is always the case, I went straight to the gym first.  This was a cardio day, where I spend my entire time running on the treadmill.  6.9 speed, no incline, for 20 minutes, and then I push it over the last five, before giving myself a five minute cool down and then hitting the showers.  I always think twice about what I change into after cardio days, because I tend to keep sweating even after a shower after doing cardio.

Afterward, I return my gym bag to my car and head up to the office, as is the norm every single working day.  I plop down at my desk and feel the existential dread of the inevitable emails of people pointing out my flaws as a worker or people in other departments making their problems become my problems, and then I contemplate why I stay with this company before realizing how much worse I could have it elsewhere, and then try to think positively about my reports and the people I work with as bright points in an otherwise deteriorating opinion of my job.

But more importantly, I set out to tackle my biggest concern of the day: how to get more 10K eggs in Pokémon Go.  I had made a point to use a bunch of incubators to hatch away several 5K eggs, because 5K eggs are like herpes in which you get saddled with them, and there’s no way to get rid of them, except for getting them to hatch.  They hog up your limited inventory and prevent you from getting the more coveted 10K eggs.  I had cleared up four valuable eggs slots, and wanted to figure out if there were any way to hedge my bets and get 10K eggs in their stead.  I searched on the internet and I asked the community on the work’s Slack channel because there are a few hardcore types who work for the company.

Then, I get a text message from mythical wife: she’s going to the hospital.  She’s feeling otherwise fine, but she was appearing to be leaking fluid that was in all likelihood not urine.

Uh oh.

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Only in the south

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What could possibly go wrong – Georgia senate panel approves legislation that would make it legal to “pull or show” your firearm during a dispute as long as you don’t “aim it offensively” at someone

In other words, Georgia is trying to make it completely legal to show that you have a gun in order to attempt to deescalate a conflict, but not necessarily point it at another human being.

Yeah, that’s really going to go over real well; especially when jobber A flashes that they have a piece during a heated argument over the last $16 waffle maker at Walmart on Black Friday, and then jobber B responds by flashing their larger, more powerful piece.  Surely, the hypothesis is that jobber A will immediately stand down and forfeit the waffle maker to jobber B and then everyone will resume what they’re doing peacefully.

But the reality is that the two of them will eventually reach this uncomfortable and tense stalemate before one of them inevitably breaks the law and flashes it at the other, causing mass hysteria around them, before the highly armed and concealed-carrying rest of Georgia all begin brandishing weapons all around and then Milledgeville ends up on the news for the first time since Ben Roethlistberger raped a chick way back when.

Seriously, this is some only in the south kind of shit logic, and if there were ever any more proof that industries like firearms have their hands in the pockets of old white men in political power, dry rubbing their flaccid old dicks, it’s stories like this, because in no scenario in the world involving people who are not law enforcement, does the introduction of firearms ever have a chance at hell at deescalating anything at all.

Digging deeper, I love how the impetus behind this ridiculous bill is that the previous punishment for brandishing a weapon is a 20-year felony, and a bunch of hicks decided that they shouldn’t have to go to prison for two decades because they have a gun and want to show it off.  So why not just change the fucking law?

Anyway, I look forward to the statistics that will never be published where gun violence actually goes down as a result of laws like this.  Or the amendment where it will not-so subtly exclude black people from this law and in fact make it a 25-year felony for the colored folks for even saying the word “gun” around old white people.

A catch-up post

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Usually, after a week or so, my internal brogging meter starts panicking if I haven’t taken the time to write anything.  After two weeks, I get anxious that I haven’t written anything other than a mundane email at work, and nothing for my own gratification.  And anything beyond that is just pure chaos in my head, and I begin to descend down this rabbit hole of thinking if I don’t write anything soon, I’ll fall into this pit of never writing again. 

Obviously that’s ludicrous thinking, and I can start back up whenever I feel like it, but the overlying factor is that when the day is over, I simply need time to write.  Topics aren’t necessarily the issue, I’ve got a small queue of things that I found to be thought-provoking to want to blab on about for a little bit, but unfortunately the need for time didn’t necessarily sync up.

So instead of trying to write backwards and backfill a queue of mostly inconsequential topics, I figured I’d just start off with writing for little else than the sake of catching up, because this isn’t necessarily going to be one topic I touch on, and I’ve definitely got a lot on my mind these days that I think wouldn’t hurt to put into writing for me to reflect back on in the future.

First and foremost, let’s talk about my impending journey into upcoming fatherhood.  Obviously, I haven’t really written a lot about this, but it’s not because I don’t care, but it’s mostly because it’s a tremendous amount for me to process, and I don’t always know how to express myself when it comes to it.  I think things are a little bit clearer now these days, but over the last few months, it’s always been more of a “when” kind of thing, but as the expected due date has dwindled from months to weeks, we’re at the point where mythical wife explained to her parents that we’re in the stage where our kid can actually show up any time now, regardless of the fact that we’re still a little around six weeks away.

That notion, kind of got my blood pumping, and suddenly it doesn’t feel like I have enough time left to do all the things around the house that we both know will probably never get done once the baby arrives.  On account of this, I’ve been working pretty much non-stop when I’m at home, doing painting, minor repairs, and more painting, to get the house to a stage where we’ll be content to let it sit for many years before we feel the need to freshen things up later on.

Needless to say, I fucking hate painting with a passion.  It’s about the worst activity in the world for homeowners, and it always makes me want to pay someone to do it for me, but I know that the estimates for the labor will often times be around 10x more than it would cost for the paint and for me to do it myself, and because I’m Asian and cheap, I end up doing it myself no matter how much I revile it.  I’ve decided that in the future, painting, will be the most adequate form of discipline I can apply to my kid if she ever becomes a bratty teen that steps out of line.

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How is this even a debate?

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Chick fil-A. Waffle House. American Deli. The Varsity.  Four Atlanta-born restaurants; if you had to kill one, which one would it be?

I think it’s safe to say that Chick fil-A and Waffle House are immediately safe.  Jesus’s chicken, although I would still slot it underneath Bojangles, still has the greatest app in the history of apps, and its ease of use probably drives more Chick fil-A visits than the average fast food joint for me. 

Waffle House also holds a special place in not just mine, but should in just about every breathing human being alive.  Whether it’s the garbage food that always hits the spot, the fact that they’re never closed, or the stories of interesting characters we’ve all seen, there’s absolutely no reason at all to even consider Waffle House for the chopping block.

Now American Deli, I had no idea was even started in Atlanta, much less considered remotely respectable to even be put into this competition.  I always associate American Deli’s as food options always seen at the sketchy mall or shopping center, and that in spite of the “American” in the name, I don’t think I’ve ever once seen someone that was probably born in the United States actually working at one.  The menu is homogenized and overpriced, and there’s never an instance where there’s not a better option available around one.

Which means The Varsity has to fucking go.  Honestly, this really shouldn’t even be a debate.  The Varsity is pretty much the worst food available in the entire city of Atlanta and the state of Georgia.  I mean look at the food in the picture above; I’m pretty sure I could have a bowel movement onto a bun and it would look more appetizing than that trash.

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100 Push-up Challenge

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Not long after the new year, I was laying in bed surfing around on YouTube on my iPad, and eventually I came across this video where a guy did 100 push-ups every day for 30 straight days.

He did the smart thing and took measurements of his chest and arms on day 1, and then the video is a montage of him doing push-ups in a variety of ways, and a sub-challenge within the month was that he had this goal of doing 50 straight push-ups, which he eventually accomplished 20-some days into the journey.  Eventually, after 30 days, he measured his chest and arms, and there was some gain size, which was ultimately the goal.

“Hmm,” I thought.  I could do this.  So I did.

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