I Try to Make a Point Everyday Not to Die

I Try to Make a Point Everyday Not to Die

I don’t mean to sound morbid, but I’m sort of obsessed with not dying.

In the trailer for the upcoming Star Trek Beyond movie, there is an interesting conversation:

Mr. Spock proclaims, “The fear of death is illogical.”

Captain Kirk replies, “The fear of death is what keeps us alive.”

Both men make brilliant points; and together, they present a perfect paradox:

The fear of death is illogical and yet it keeps us alive.

Now at age 35, happily married with a wife and 2 kids, a “real house”, and a solid career, my life is clearly settled.

I’m no longer trying to figure my life out like I was back in 2001 when John Mayer’s “Why Georgia” was such a relatable song; as he ponders his “quarter-life crisis” proclaiming, “I wonder sometimes about the outcome of a still verdictless life… Am I living it right?”

It’s inevitable that at some point, I am going to die, so it’s truly illogical to allow myself to believe otherwise.

I assume that for the human race, that mystery of not knowing for sure what happens the moment we die only adds to the fear of dying. I don’t fear death itself, though.

The moment I die, I’ll immediately know for sure whether my life of faith in Jesus as the Son of God was the right call.

If I was wrong about Christianity, I guess the worst that could happen is I’ll learn that ultimately I was simply part of some elaborate Matrix scheme inside somebody else’s head.

My fear isn’t of death itself or what happens after I die; it’s about missing out on my future in this life. My actual main motivation for not dying is simple and predictable:

There are 3 people are greatly depend on me for the rest are their lives.

Granted, I have a life insurance policy in place to pay off the house if anything happens to me. But beyond finances, I am motivated by the desire to finish out this storyline that has been set in place.

What started as a romantic comedy back on October 5, 2006 when I met my wife, has now evolved into a family sitcom.

I see the world through the eyes of a writer. So I, as the protagonist, can’t let myself die. I can’t just disappear right when the story is really getting good.

So what exactly do I do each day in an effort not to die?

Well, before I answer that, I quickly accept the fact that if the Lord decides to take me at any point, He can and He will, as Job told God:

“A person’s days are determined; You have decreed the number of his months and have set limits he cannot exceed.”

So I get it that I could randomly have a brain aneurysm and that would be the end of it.

But I instead focus on what I can control, not what I can’t.

For example, I refuse to talk on the phone while I’m driving. I always wear my seat belt.

Plus, I know that as an American man, I’m much more likely to die from preventable health issues than anything else.

Unless I’m really proactive on my end, as a stereotypical male, I am especially in the running to die of a heart attack, diabetes, stomach cancer, or prostate issues.

Therefore, I run. I mountain bike. I take walks throughout the day.

I obviously don’t smoke.

And while it’s not a popular decision or lifestyle, especially as a masculine American man, I have committed to my vegan (and therefore vegetarian and kosher) lifestyle for years now.

Yeah, I get it. I could totally be setting myself up to be the Mr. Play-It-Safe who Alanis Morrisette speaks about in her classic song, “Ironic.”

It’s not that I’m not trying to overwrite God’s predetermined number of days for me. Instead, I am trying to outsmart the more subtle and predictable ways that as a man, I might die too young.

Therefore, I try to make a point everyday not to die.

I can only do much. But I can do some.

Dear Jack: Your Giant Poison Dart Frog from the Nashville Reptile Show (Repticon)

5 years, 7 months.

Dear Jack: Your Giant Poison Dart Frog from the Nashville Reptile Show

Dear Jack,

A year and a half ago your Pre-K teacher at the time, Ms. Aimee, got you interested in live reptiles, as she had them as pets in her classroom. She also informed you of Repticon, the Reptile and Exotic Animal Show that comes to Nashville every year.

Dear Jack: Your Giant Poison Dart Frog from the Nashville Reptile Show

Dear Jack: Your Giant Poison Dart Frog from the Nashville Reptile Show

So not only did we take you last year when you got Snakey, your giant red snake, but we also took this year as well. Actually, it was this past weekend.

Dear Jack: Your Giant Poison Dart Frog from the Nashville Reptile Show

It was a family affair; even Baby Holly came along… even though she slept through the entire event.

Dear Jack: Your Giant Poison Dart Frog from the Nashville Reptile Show

While you definitely loved seeing all the live animals, your main incentive to go is knowing that Mommy and I are going to buy you a stuffed animal souvenir. As a family, we went there knowing that was the main agenda.

Dear Jack: Your Giant Poison Dart Frog from the Nashville Reptile Show

Dear Jack: Your Giant Poison Dart Frog from the Nashville Reptile Show

Though you had been planning on buying a spider and naming her Charlotte, you ended up getting swept away by a giant poison dart frog who you named, of course, Froggy.

Dear Jack: Your Giant Poison Dart Frog from the Nashville Reptile Show

Next, as any stereotypical vegan/vegetarian family would do, we had lunch at Whole Foods. Needless to say, Froggy accompanied you.

Dear Jack: Your Giant Poison Dart Frog from the Nashville Reptile Show

Dear Jack: Your Giant Poison Dart Frog from the Nashville Reptile Show

Fortunately, there happened to be a special on the sorbet (vegan) and gelato (vegetarian)…

Dear Jack: Your Giant Poison Dart Frog from the Nashville Reptile Show

The afternoon, you and I went to the movies for “boy time” as Mommy puts it. We decided to dress up in our matching tuxedo t-shirts.

Obviously, you took Froggy with us to the movies. After the show, as we were walking out of the room where our movie was show, a lady approached me:

“Excuse me, my granddaughters are dying to know where your son got that frog. Would you mind telling me where you found that?”

Dear Jack: Your Giant Poison Dart Frog from the Nashville Reptile Show

Imagine that. You aren’t the only kid who that it would be cool to get a giant poison dart frog.

That night, you found a clear Tupperware container big enough to hold Froggy in, as you had seen the frogs at Repticon, and then attempted to place the whole thing in the bed with you.

But by the time I came to check on you later that night, you decided she was cozier to sleep with outside of her container.

I guess real poison dart frogs prefer a clear container, but the stuffed animal version prefers a soft bed and a young child.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Jack: Your Giant Poison Dart Frog from the Nashville Reptile Show

Dear Holly: The Picture Mommy Secretly Took of Us Sleeping

7 weeks.

Dear Holly: The Picture Mommy Secretly Took of Us Sleeping

Dear Holly,

I did a particular household chore over the weekend that I never look forward to doing: the tedious and unforgiving task of uploading the hundreds of photos from both Mommy’s phone as well as mine; then making separate folders for them to upload to our external hard drive.

(It’s not the simple cut and dry process it should be, nor is the transfer as instant as I would like.)

In doing this, I finally saw a picture that Mommy secretly took of us; back from when you were just a few days old.

I had been sitting on the floor, holding you in attempt to help you get to sleep. Then as my back became sore from hunching over, I laid back on the carpet, while keeping you in a nest of blankets, with my legs crossed “Indian style”.

Dear Holly: The Picture Mommy Secretly Took of Us Sleeping

Apparently my method was quite efficient, because we both fell deep asleep. That’s how Mommy easily sneaked over and snapped a picture of us with her phone.

It happened in the midst of first days of having bringing a newborn home from the hospital that as a parent, I don’t really remember too many details surrounding the event. Everything was just a haze at the time.

After I saw the picture this weekend, I informed Mommy that my favorite radio station, WAY-FM, is holding a contest in which moms are sending in photos of their husbands with their kids, for a Father’s Day.

So obviously, this photo has now been sent. I’m sure we won’t win, but it’s worth a shot. (The prize is a $1,000.)

If nothing else, it’s fun to be able to see this picture. Though I really don’t like uploading the pictures from our phones, at least I was able to unearth this gem.

It was totally worth the work for that reason alone, if nothing else.

Love,

Daddy

Postpartum: My 10 Steps of Caring for a Newborn during the First 6 Weeks

Postpartum: My 10 Steps of Caring for a Newborn during the First 6 Weeks

We survived! Yay for us! With Baby Holly turning 6 weeks old as of yesterday, my wife and I have apparently made it through what I hear is the toughest part of the postpartum days: the first 6 weeks.

That first month or so is when you as the parent must figure out the details on what works best for your baby regarding sleeping schedules, formulas, and diapers. It’s a culture shock as a parent, even after already having one child. I knew it would be challenging going into it.

However, I must have kept my expectations lower than I needed to because, honestly, it hasn’t been that bad!

Postpartum: My 10 Steps of Caring for a Newborn during the First 6 Weeks

Despite us managing our newborn’s infant acid reflux, for the post part, things have been fairly predictable. There have really been just 10 simple steps to caring for our newborn during the first 6 weeks:

1)      Feed her an ounce, burp her. Repeat until each ounce is gone.

2)      Change her diaper.

3)      Play with her by talking to her and helping her do exercises.

4)      Take a cute picture of her.

5)      While you teach yourself newborn photography, by the default of taking so many pictures, Instagram your work to show it off to friends and family.

6)      Change her diaper.

7)      Wrap her up in a blanket and rock her to sleep with the pacifier in her mouth,

then place her in the crib.

8)      Change her diaper, now that she finally fell asleep but wet herself again.

9)      Rock her back to sleep and place her in the crib again.

10)  Repeat two and a half hours later when she wakes up again.

Postpartum: My 10 Steps of Caring for a Newborn during the First 6 Weeks

Those are my 10 simple steps. This has been my life for the past 6 weeks.

Granted, these 10 steps have been my wife’s reality more than mine, since she’s on maternity leave, but I still work during the day. A lot of the time my main responsibility is to take care of our 5 and a half year-old son Jack while my wife Jill takes care of the baby.

This past weekend I celebrated the end of those first 6 weeks by shaving off my postpartum beard, as well as getting a hair trim. As you can see though, I was unable to overcome the temptation of shaving (and Instagramming) in stages.

Postpartum: My 10 Steps of Caring for a Newborn during the First 6 Weeks

Postpartum: My 10 Steps of Caring for a Newborn during the First 6 Weeks

And if my eyes look bloodshot and cross-eyed, and I look like I need some ginseng because of lack of sleep, it’s probably true.

As for Baby Holly, she doesn’t have that problem so much…

Postpartum: My 10 Steps of Caring for a Newborn during the First 6 Weeks

Fare thee well.

Postpartum: My 10 Steps of Caring for a Newborn during the First 6 Weeks

Why I’m Fine (and Possibly Proud?) to Have Gray in My Beard

Having turned 35 years-old back in April, I needed to briefly confront an internal issue by asking myself a question: Will I eventually start dying my gray hairs as I get older?

I immediately thought of the 2001 Tom Cruise movie, Vanilla Sky, where his chWhy I’m Fine (and Possibly Proud?) to Have Gray in My Beardaracter is seen plucking a few gray hairs while standing in front of the bathroom mirror, on his 35th birthday. Similarly, I pluck a couple gray hairs each week and therefore easily maintain my dark brown hair.

But a month ago, when my daughter was born, I accidentally and by default ended up growing what I call a postpartum beard; out of lack of time or inspiration to shave in the midst of caring for an infant.

It became clear that I now contain more gray hairs in my beard than I am willing to count. Back in my late 20s, those same hairs had turned red, and then blonde… now they are undeniably gray.

The longer my postpartum beard has grown, the less I care about those gray hairs that stick straight out. So then I asked myself, “Why don’t I care?”

Here’s my answer:

Gray hair is seen as a trait that makes a man appear to be “distinguished”. I am now at a point in my life where I see distinguished as a positive trait.

That’s because I feel like I’ve earned it. The gray in my beard holds a story. It indicates that I have life experience and maturity that I never did have up until now.

At age 35, I am settled. I am comfortable and confident in my lifestyle.

I have been married for nearly 8 years. Together, my wife and I have gotten out of debt and built our savings. We’ve raised a 5 and a half year old-son and now have a 1 month-old daughter. As if I needed to explain that raising children makes you a different person…

At my office, I now have many people who look to me for answers and wisdom. And I instantly have the answers. Naturally, the newer 25 year-old office workers call me sir when they meet me; they recognize my confidence and life experience simply how I carry myself; which is what I will self-identify as calm-assertive.

I like this. I like being 35. It sure beats 20 or 25 or 30.

Back when I had no gray hairs, I didn’t have that confidence, nor or the emotional intelligence I now have. So I won’t complain about gray hairs.

With that being said, after I press “publish” on this blog post, I’m going directly downstairs to shave off this beard; not because I am internally inspired to do so, but because my wife wants me to.

But even without my gray hairs after this, my wisdom will still show in the fact I cared more about making my wife happy they continuing to grow a novelty beard.

This is 35.