Call Girl

Ya know I'm flattered that somebody actually called me to make sure everything was OK and to find out why there hasn't been a new blog entry in nearly a week. Here's to you, girl.

REDIRECTING: To spunkybean, as I always do. I contributed to a very insightful, smart piece on Mad Men. It's practically poetry.

PILING: Up. My to-do list is getting overwhelming. I got bees living behind every shutter on my house. Gotta kill 'em. I got weeds all over my lawn. Gotta kill 'em. I got vacation photos sitting on my PC that I gotta upload to Flickr. Gotta share 'em. Need to write more, need to move the piano, need to work-out, need to read something, need to do my will, change my exemptions, drink more water, sleep more, call people, and spend more time with my family. It never ends.

OVERWHELMING: The fact my 5-year-old started Kindergarten, today. Call me emotional, but this is huge. Part of me feels like I've failed her. Me, my kids, and my wife are spoiled. My wife doesn't work, so the three kids are always home. Pre-school was four-days-a- week last year for my 5-year-old, and even then only 9am to 11:30am, and the kids mostly played and painted and stuff. Kindergarten is like real-world. Gotta wake the kids by 7am so we can leave, every day, by 7:40. Then she goes until noon. Ya know? Grades, peer pressure, rich kids, poor kids, nice kids, mean kids, well-adjusted kids, whack jobs, nice parents, dickhead parents, people saying mean things, and older kids. Her elementary is K-thru-8th grade. Pre-school was just a buncha 4-and-unders. What if she struggles with reading? Or simple math? She still bites her nails when she's nervous. What if someone makes fun of her? My daughter is silly, at times, and what if she gets in trouble with the teacher? What if the teacher doesn't like her? What happens when her artistic drawings, all of which we cherish and applaud, aren't actually as good as other kids? Her life, so far, has been a ball of happiness and sunshine where we celebrate every small achievement, we sing songs, we dance, and we're happy all the time. Now what? There's gossip. There's cliques. There's competition. Hair gets pulled.

I need a rolaids ...or a shot o' whiskey.

Last year, kids in her class told her there was no such thing as Santa Claus. A buncha 4-year-olds!!! It broke my heart, but luckily she was absolutely insistent on the fact there was a Santa and "those boys are wrong, and I told them they were wrong." I'll admit I teared up a little bit when we walked by the mall-Santa and my daughter yelled out, "I love you, Santa. I know you're real!"

I'm not made of stone. That is the sweetness I worry will be trampled out of her in the cold, hard world that is 'school.' Remember ...every troubled kid in your H.S. was once a wide-eyed, dreamer. Even the slutty girls have fathers who love them ...but things happen. Horrible things. Like square-dancing in music class and kick-ball in gym class. brrrrrr. I have chills.

Mixed in with the lumps I guess we all take, there'll be lots of super proud moments like Santa-affirmation- moment, too.

But, life happens. Life smash happiness. Life make daddy have ulcers. Life no like smiles.

I think The Dark Knight may have gone to my head. Gotta remember, I don't live in Gotham. I'm sure everything will be fine.