Hi little one! Papa hasn’t written in weeks now, and he feels awful. Awful because the world is spinning by so damn fast, because the holiday season ran over us without even slowing down, and because he can’t hold his beer like he did in his professional days, so two or three in a short period of time will give him a nice walloping headache. Kind of like the one he has this morning.
Not that the three of us did any kind of heavy partying. Our New Years’ celebrations have scaled way back in the last couple of years, from lavish catered parties down to leftovers and a six-pack, but that’s alright. I’ve been to Times Square for New Year’s and barhopped through several cities, and I’m not as interested in power drinking as I used to be. Last night, after we all enjoyed an evening cocktail, had a satisfying (and mercifully easy) burp, and changed your drawers, the three of us laid down next to each other at the early hour of 11:30 and we all slept through the last minutes of 2008 together. This morning doesn’t feel any different than a lazy Sunday, to be honest. Mama and I decided we would take this odd Thursday and sleep as much as possible, which has been absolutely wonderful.
Goals and Resolutions.
I’ve taken some of this afternoon to reflect upon everything that happened this past year. One of the great things about having a weblog is that it reminds me what I was doing at particular times of my life. Otherwise, I’d look back on my thirties like I look back on my twenties—a hazy mixture of memories punctuated with blurry photographs and a vague timeline of events. I even made a list of things I wanted to accomplish in 2008 and shared it with the internets. Predictably, the results were disappointing:
Ride a unicycle.
I got as far as pumping up the tire on our unicycle and balancing on it a few times. My resolve to ride it has not faltered.
Learn how to ride a motorcycle properly, and get a license.
Nope. As much as I’ve mentioned this, I have people telling me to give up the dream. However, I’m convinced gas will soon be $20/gal soon, and I will need a gas-sipping vehicle to navigate the post-apocalyptic wasteland. History will prove me correct—you’ll see.
Learn how to clean and care for a revolver, automatic, and rifle.
This one didn’t work out either. And I got as much flak for this as the motorcycle, but I’m still planning on doing this. And to all the haters: don’t come knocking on my door when you need my help fighting off the irradiated zombie hordes.
Take and pass a CPR class for certification.
Nope. I have the class schedule and everything, but haven’t done this. With our new addition, I’d like to add the baby CPR class too.
Play the guitar.
I started out strong on this, and made it to about July until I put the guitar down and didn’t pick it up again. Life and work got in the way. I did learn chords and a few songs, so I’d say I’ve got a good foothold in on this one. I’m going to pick this back up in 2009, because the day I played through “There She Goes” without messing it up I felt like a genius.
Take a small engine repair course.
I can’t find a good course for this anywhere, but I’m sure there’s one out there.
Take a basic algebra class, in preparation for computer programming classes.
I’m still going to try to do this, although I only made it through one (poorly written) book before putting it down. I doubt I’ll have time for any classes this year.
Get an illustration published in a national publication.
Didn’t happen, and I learned a valuable, expensive lesson in marketing: simply advertising does not garner new business. Illustration is on the back burner again.
Go back to figure drawing classes.
No time for this in 2008. Perhaps this summer,
now that I’m if I’m still working in the city?
Become a father.
Upgrade/redesign this website.
Upgrade, yes. Redesign? Sorry, internets.
Learn about studio lighting and shooting medium-format film portraiture.
Nope, although I did become adept at using a 50mm lens and shooting manually with a DSLR.
To sum up: not so hot. As much as I’d like to say “I didn’t have any time last year,” that would be a cop-out. I could have made time to do any and all of these things. As with every New Year’s resolution, I started out hot and died out by May. In my defense, it’s also very challenging to balance running a small business, rehab a house, and help support a pregnant wife/newborn child at the same time.
This year saw several departures, A new and exciting political shift, Hospital visits, a financial meltdown, plumbing emergencies, renovations, multiple births, and the overwhelming kindness of many friends. Really, the arrival of our baby has only reinforced how truly lucky we are: We have some of the best and most thoughtful friends and family on the planet. Thank you, everyone.
Of course, most significantly, 2008 was a banner year for Lockardugan Industries. There were no stock splits, no labor disputes, and no plant closings, and we successfully shipped our first product. From all indications, you have been met by the marketplace with positive reviews, and there have been no embarrassing recalls, defects, or lead paint advisories.
The breaking-in period was difficult, to be sure. Until we got you on a regular sleeping routine, you were like a car alarm that gets tripped and then never shuts off. You don’t travel well yet, which has made it difficult to take you anywhere and hard to explain to friends why we haven’t brought you by. It’s not because we don’t like you; we just didn’t want to drag a wailing banshee into your living room.
Things are getting better, though. You’re sleeping properly now, so your waking hours are mostly happy and filled with laughter. You spend lots of time playing with your toys, making coos and grunts and kicking your feet on the floor constantly, and we sit on the couch and sip our coffee and stare at you in amazement. The best parts of the day are the times I smile at you and your face lights up like a Christmas tree and you smile back in recognition, and all I can think is thank God for that smile, because a month and a half ago I was seriously considering how much I could get for you on the black market. And then I hear you giggle or smell your baby smell and I can’t ever imagine not having you in my life. It’s really a miracle your eyes haven’t popped out of your head yet, because it’s all Mama and I can do not to hug and squeeze you all day long.
You’re getting bigger, too—too fast. Your original onesies are too small, and my favorite fleece pajamas are getting too tight to zip up. I miss the days when you fit in the crook of my arm and we napped together on the couch, the scent of your baby skin filling my nostrils as we fell asleep. Slow down so we can enjoy these days with you, baby girl. It’s going by so quickly.