I Am a Beautiful Butterfly

Star Date 04092016

According to my Fitbit, I am now a butterfly:

I do not know how many of these miles are due to the use of my Fitbit as a late night flashlight. It shouldn’t matter, but it feels like it kinda does.

I am on day two…in a row…of yet another migraine. I suspect that part of this is the lack of sleep since…well, a while. This past week has been even less so on the sleep front. Last night, no different. I awoke at 0527 today…West coast time. No daily song yet as I am staying at a hotel close to Casey and Michael, and have the TV on…yep…Fixer Upper…okay, and Criminal Minds. Laughter and murder…solving. Instead of a song, I am awakened with a feeling…rather feelings of being helpless: for myself, wife, kids, etc. I cannot control even a seemingly simple headache. Why now? If or since Charlie has been present for years, why the sudden need to emerge and be known now? Why could he not remain the caterpillar in lieu of wanting to become a butterfly…”You all look like little ants from up here.” (movie reference to Bug’s Life). Jess…I cannot help her feel at ease. I cannot make her feel better about any of this.I cannot predict, nor stop the moments of her helplessness, her fears, her tears…or her Tears for Fears. …these are the things I can do with out. Shout, shout….and so on. The latest feeling of being helpless…aside from this particular migraine in the series, was last night. Sam and I got to Casey and Michael’s to find my baby and my baby’s baby. Casey, though beautiful, looked tired. Apparently a lack of sleep can do that. Logan has not slept since 1130 this morning. Couple that with crying for no reason…Logan, not Casey. We opt to meet out for dinner…good Mexicans foods (which makes me automatically miss my bestest good friend…initials Rob Hawks). This won’t make sense to anyone other than Rob. Nothing to explain at this point, save that Rob claims to be Mexican, when everyone knows Rob is clearly a black man. Okay…everyone but Kim. Kim refers to Rob as Not Black Rob…which usually queues a song…which I would sing at work…Oh, oh black Rob…bam-ba-lam. …and so on. To the tune of Black Betty by Ram Jam…circa 1977, I believe. If only there were a device that could educate me on the fly as to such things. I digress. ….we go to dinner. Casey and Miguel are frazzled. In and out of the restaurant to keep others from being disturbed by crying Logan. Michael has been out with Logan the most, which allowed Casey a bit of time to recoup. Quick talk here…recoup as in it sounds like coop, not cue. Why is this important? Everyone take a second and say coupon. Why is cue-pon an option? It is not re-cewp any more than it is cue/cew d’etat…or cew de tatas. Anywhozalbees…I can see the look of helplessness in Casey’s eyes, as she decides to take another turn. Michael gives chase. He is helpless at this point. Sam goes out. Helpless. I took a few bites and just ain’t feelin it. I, a known helpless…venture out. I sit next to my daughter. She is rocking Logan in her car seat. Sudden tears and words every new parent has muttered. Screw that…every parent still mutters all along the way: “This is so hard.” She is not incorrect. I am certain of this, it likely feels much more difficult when your baby cries and goes on and on for no apparent reason. I cannot imagine what that feels like or is like. I am immediately taken back in time…thank you Charlie for a very clear picture of my past:

Back to the present:

Casey slept from 1930-0730 most every day of her newborn life. She had a period every afternoon where she would cry …she could not be consoled. Then she would stop. That was the worst of it…okay that and the 349875394857 ear infections.

Fast forward. I am helpless in this place. I cannot help Casey or Logan. I am overcome with a flood of sadness for my daughter, in this place. This strange land of parenthood. Wishing it …this alien…this beautiful life…could find the mother f**king words to say what is wrong, so life could be managed and happy. Alas, this is not to be. All part of Logan’s journey…the very start of her own river. Meanwhile, Casey’s river is hitting what likely feels like rapids. …and she is just along for the ride. Here is the little I have to offer. Perspective. It is not that I see Casey as the clown in the first picture…though she is a clown. I just see moments. …or Charlie does and allows me a moment of remembrance. This is but a moment in time for all of us. Yes, for Casey, every moment is surrounded by baby. No escape. No breaks. No time for self. No sleep. No patience…yet finding patience. I am helpless. She is helpless.

Slow forward. I beseech you, my Casey…see this moment for what it is: a split second. I know that it feels more like a split atom…as in the bomb…it is not. It is a memory…albeit an unpleasant one, currently. I promise you will look back and see a much happier time than you feel like you are living. Your caterpillar will turn in to a beautiful butterfly. You will wish for the moment(s) she was a caterpillar. I hope I get to see all of it. Helpless. Fuck you, Charlie.

Fast forward. Sam picked me up to take me to Logan’s baby blessing this morning. Whereupon, Casey informed me that Logan basically slept all night, thus allowing Casey to sleep mostly all night. Logan was kind enough to keep her loud, yet tiny yapper quiet through her time in front of the peeps. Then she awoke. Whew. Public crisis and attention averted. Casey, happy. Pictures out front and Chipotle to come. I swear they’d eat there every day…perhaps all day. Whereas I would be making…you guessed it…toilet guacamole. No way Charlie could do that much non-Mexicans, mexicans. Making me a Mexicant.

Fast forward. Charlie was an grade A for a**hole, today. Not sure what his deal is. Suffice to say, everyone around me seems to be infected. What do I mean? Both Casey and Sam have been having headache behind their right eyes as well. Casey has an MRI scheduled for this Thursday. I told you Charlie is contagious. Aside from that, the day was a success. Casey and Michael left Sam and pappy in charge of Logan whilst they went to his parents, sans baby for the first time ever. I promptly fell asleep with Logan on my chestal region. When I awoke, my world was made whole; at last, how perfect to have all my babes in one place. Even Charlie could not keep being angry with that. As expected, the evening went way too quickly. Charlie is here but not the focus…my girls are the focus. All of them in their perfect splendor. I am in awe of the women I have been blessed with. Casey, who has come in to her own and is an amazing mother. Sam…the perfect and protective aunt. Tomorrow, another amazing woman: Sandi. Not that the rest of you do not matter, as all of the women who are reading are truly amazing for many reasons. But, as you can tell, my focus is the present. How could it not be? I am a blessed man, who started the day in a funk and out of his element, to being in the presence of strength and beauty of three generations of women. How amazing and what a true gift.

Final thought. There are no words from my mouth or my fingers than can match the feeling of this: