Man I've got email to check and stuff to do

Well, that's debatable

I could just sit here on my tuffett right now and it wouldn't matter. Well, yes it would, because I'd like to think I hold standards for myself in regards to gettin' er dunn. There are also a bunch of metal riffs I want to record. And I can read a book about motherhood and see that it's clearly geared at me.

I wrote a really long, angry letter today. You ever do that? Write a long, ranting thing that you regret sending pretty much directly after you send it, and without question it gets you in trouble? Well, mine was related to WORK!God.

And that's not the worst part. See, I wrote about something that's been bothering me for a little over a year now, give or take. I didn't realize I was so passionate about it until I started putting my thoughts down on paper, and THEN I began typing! And you know me, the long-winded writer, I just had to make my handwritten short little thing into a long, convoluted tirade.

But this one feels different. This one feels like it was okay to write. I even got permission beforehand. Lately at work I've been seeing tangible results that comes from the power I have, as a long-standing, trusted employee at a small, family-like business. This 'power' I mention is weak on its surface; it is the power of suggestion, I believe we could call it. And I'm certainly not unfirable. O hell no. But I try to do my best, and I think even the servers like me now. Anyway, this all makes me feel better about the brutally honest tirade that recently left the building, and is now out of my hands.

Lucy did not like me ignoring her for so long, but she wouldn't play by herself, either, something toddlers have to learn to do. I'm not that good at disciplining her, I don't think. Not compared to another father I know and respect. I could have taken the time to stop writing, and talk to her and hang out and play with her and say, "Yeah! That's a carrot!" but I was in a really focused typing zone. She's getting bigger. She's starting to talk. Megan was right--the cavalcade of words is on its way. But with this she's also getting more rebellious. And I'm her main squeeze at home all the time, and she's shy and scared of all strangers. So I can see why she wouldn't want to play by herself. However, I don't care.

There was a funny moment when she decided to sit right behind me as I sat on the couch and typed on my laptop. She had her My First Toy Catalogue book. It's a rectangle-shaped soft cover book with lots of drawrings of toys and I hear a *rrrrrip. Then I turn around and, in the midst of my angry-work-typing-composition mindset I tell her that it's bad to rip pages out of books, and don't do that, and that's bad, and I turn around and resume typing and there again it was: *rrrrip. The page was now torn in twain. I guess the only funny part is where she chose to sit.

Oh, this is also funny. The text in the book was changed to, "Racks, dumper trucks, digging up the ground trucks," and "Rag dolls, princess dolls, walking, talking baby trucks."

Megan even came home for her lunch break and I was still typing. I don't know how long I took to do it. Too long for Lucy anyway. Her and I were both irritable by the end of it.

But then I took her outside, we had a nice walk in Cowen Park, she experimented with dangerous hills, puddles, sticks, leaves, rocks, and a river, and she almost ran right into the line of an oncoming car but I grabbed her hood and made her cry I got so mad at her for that and nudged her back towards the sidewalk, and then we came home. I gave her some bacon, and another apple, and some more Sesame Street, and read her Curious George and the Bunny five times or so along with three other books, gave her her two monkeys that she now loves as of the past week, and now she's napping and I'm typing with coffee.

I have to work tonight.

I've got metal riffs to record.

When she walked right out into the street and started running right into the line of that oncoming car, I didn't hesitate to grab her hood, but I was still more late than I think I should have been. Ever since I feel guilty about not grabbing her sooner and I keep having these visions about what might have happened. O, the guilt.

When Lucy was watching Sesame Street before the nap she's in now, I spotted this book Megan had laying on her night stand, I Was a Really Good Mom Before I Had Kids, Reinventing Modern Motherhood, and I read the first chapter and a half. Its message is that motherhood is hard, and there's all these expectations, and all the while I was reading it I was like, man women are so dumb. No, just kidding. I actually was relieved to read it myself, being not a mom, but performing the role of a mom. See, even saying that isn't fair. Parenthood is reserved for either sex. But the book made me feel better, even if it is corny and written and edited and geared toward women. It's got a big damn pink frosting cupcake with sprinkles on the cover! But see, that's an elaborate ruse; it represents the expectation of women to always look perfect and say how happy they are and how they have no problems and love everything and their kids are great.

There are some brutal truths revealed in this book. I recommend it to all parents who are having a hard time raising a kid. I mean, I recommend it to all parents.