Seeing Wrath of Khan and the Grieving Porcess

I’ve seen Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan more times than I can count. It’s in the running for my favorite movie of all-time (honestly, depends on which movie I’ve seen most recently — Khan or The Searchers) and it’s one of those movies I can stumble across and start watching to the end from wherever it is in the movie’s run.

This weekend, I got to see Khan on the big-screen again in celebration of its fortieth anniversary.

And the movie hit me hard in a couple of places.

Seeing Admiral Kirk facing his fiftieth birthday in the film resonated with me in a way it hasn’t really before. Probably because I’m coming up on my fiftieth birthday early next year as well.

But even more so, some of the emotional beats of the second half of the film hit me. Having lost a baby a few weeks ago, the gulf between Kirk and his son, David, and the death of Spock, really hit me hard this time around. Thinking about how we were considering naming the baby Kirk if we’d been blessed with a son hit me hard. Then, the sequence in which Kirk has to say goodbye to Spock without being able to physically connect through the glass in engineering also shattered me. The grief of never holding this baby, never knowing this baby in the way I know my daughter, and never getting a moment to say hello or goodbye hurt me as I watched. I saw the baby on an ultrasound a few weeks before the tragic news was revealed — saw his or her heartbeat on there, saw him or her forming. And while I was worried about becoming a new dad at fifty, I was instantly in more in love with this baby than I had been and super stoked about doing all that new dad stuff again.

And now, it’s gone and I’m not sure I’ve processed it all yet. Or maybe I’ve just cycled back a stage or two in the grieving process.

And hopefully, this will help me continue to heal and be a good dad and father.

Conversations With Shortcake: The Loss

I’m not sure who takes a Tennessee loss harder — Daddy or Shortcake.

The scene: Our local Aldi, yesterday after Tennessee loses to Texas in the College World Series and the season comes to end. One of Shortcake’s responsibilities when we got to Aldi is to hold the quarter for a cart from the car to the cart area.

Daddy has omitted the fact that Tennessee didn’t win because Shortcake doesn’t like it when Tennessee doesn’t win. He is, however, wearing his orange shirt and his orange and white “Daddy” hat.

As we approach the carts, an older gentleman offers to trade the cart for our quarter and we agree.

Other Guy: Did you see the game today?
Daddy: Yes, I was disappointed to see the season end.
Other Guy: I watched the whole thing and, man, those umps…
Daddy: I know. Terrible way to lose.
Shortcake: Daddy, did Tennessee play today?
Daddy: Yes, they did.
Shortcake: Did they beat the bad, bad boys on the other team?
Daddy: No, Shortcake. We lost.
Shortcake: They lost?!? Daddy, I don’t want Tennessee to lose! Why did the bad, bad boys not let them win?!?
Daddy: It’s OK, honey. It happens.
Shortcake: No, Daddy! It’s not OK! I want Tennessee to win! ::tears start to well up in her eyes:::
Other Guy: Is she upset about the quarter? I can give it back to her…
Daddy: Oh no, she loves Tennessee and hates it when we lose.
Shortcake: Daddy, when does Tennessee play again? I want to watch them with you.
Daddy: Well, we won’t get to see them play until August when they play football.
Shortcake: August?!?
Daddy: Yes, I know it’s a long time. But we will make get there.
Shortcake: Daddy, that’s not fair! I want to watch them play tomorrow!
Daddy: We will have to be patient. But in August, you will get to go to school on a Thursday and then come home and watch Tennessee with Daddy.
Shortcake: Will I have orange pompoms and a cheerleader outfit? I want to wear them to cheer on Tennessee.
Daddy: We’ll have to see.
Shortcake: How can we beat those bad, bad boys if I don’t have pompoms?!?

Conversations with Shortcake: Raising Her Right

The scene: Daddy has the SEC baseball tournament on in the background as he does some other stuff around the house. Shortcake enters the viewing area.

Shortcake: Daddy, who’s winning?

Daddy: Florida is.

Shortcake: Who are they playing?

Daddy: Alabama.

Shortcake: :: makes a raspberry sound ::

Conversations With Shortcake: For Lease

Shortcake (looking out the car window): Daddy, what does “for lease” mean?

Daddy: That means you can rent that section of the mall and open up a store.

Shortcake: Daddy, I want to open a Wal-Mart.

Daddy: I’m not sure a Wal-Mart would fit in that space.

Shortcake: OK, I’ll open a Five Below instead. And I’d get all the toys and stuff for kids and give them to myself.

Daddy: Could I have a pair of ear buds?

Shortcake: Sure, as long as you pay for them.

Daddy: Do I at least get a discount?

Shortcake: Maybe, Daddy.

Conversations With Shortcake: The Farmer’s Market

Our local farmer’s market is getting ready to open this weekend and our family is very excited. Shortcake attended the farmer’s market on multiple Saturdays last year with us and loved it. It helped that one of the vendors would give her a Shortcake-sized cucumber or apple to munch on while we shopped.

Driving her to school each morning, we pass the site where the farmer’s market will be and this invariably leads to a conversation that goes like this:

Shortcake: Daddy, there’s where the farmer’s market will be this weekend! How many days until it opens?

Daddy: Three days.

Shortcake: Three days and then we can go and get some fruits and vegetables. I’m going to look for oranges because I like oranges!

Note: We live in Tennessee. Odds of there being oranges at the farmers market are low.

Daddy: Well, there might not be any. But we can get some squash or some tomatoes or some kale.

Shortcake: OK, but I’m still going to look for oranges

So, Saturday could be a disappointing day for her. Hopefully, we can distract her with other fresh fruits and veggies (and other stuff) and she won’t be too upset about the lack of oranges.

Fury from the Top of the Stairs

During the second Doctor’s tenure on Doctor Who, the series featured a companion named Victoria.  

Victoria had a tendency to scream whenever she encountered any of the various monsters that cropped up during the second Doctor’s era to the point that her final story, “Fury from the Deep” used her screams as a way to keep the monster of the serial at bay.*

*Alas, this story is lost to the ravages of time, but the soundtrack still exists. We’re hopeful it will be animated sooner rather than later.

Until last week, I’d never experienced the type of blood curdling scream that Victoria gave us on a weekly basis in real life. 

Shortcake doesn’t react well to being startled.  Most of the times, she’ll just let out a yelp. But last week, she was climbing the stairs to give Mommy and her sister cat a hug.  I was planning to follow her upstairs, but got distracted by something that kept me from being on the stairs with her at the moment of the big scream.

From what we can figure, the cat decided to stand at the top of the stairs and/or she saw Erica’s shadow on the wall.  (Or most likely both). What rang through the house was a scream that would have made Victoria proud and most likely have destroyed the vicious seaweed in “Fury from the Deep.”

It also reinforces that you never know how fast you can move until someone you love is in danger — real or perceived.  I set land speed records getting to and up the stairs that would have made Usain Bolt seem like a tortoise.  

It then took several moments to calm down everyone’s nerves and peel ourselves off the ceiling.  Hard to assure your daughter that everything is alright when you’re trembling a bit yourself. Tears were soothed and we slowly tried to reclaim some sense of normalcy to our morning routine.

It’s a sound I’d never heard before beyond companions on Doctor Who…and it’s one that I hope I don’t have to hear again. But I do know that it I hear it again, I’m ready to respond quickly.  

The Baby Shark Dilemma

Comedian Seann Walsh put something into perspective on a recent episode of Conan.  Part of his routine focused on how young people these days have literally all of pop-culture at their fingertips, ready to download and consume within seconds.  Walsh then talked about how years ago, many people used LimeWire to download songs, movies, and TV shows and that it could take anywhere from a few seconds to several days.

Listening to his bit, I laughed and was struck by the thought of how great I have it as a parent in this age of instant access to more pop culture than you can shake a stick at.

A Tough Nut to Crack

Why are kids’ toys and cold medicine so hard to open?

You might think this is a pretty random thought, but it’s one that’s crossed my mind a couple of times this week.

Shortcake’s plastic horse arrived on our doorstep this week, thanks to the wonder that is the Amazon Vine.  And while we’d wanted to save this new toy for her birthday, Daddy made the mistake of opening it while she was around and letting her see it.

Trying to outwit her, I figured I’d just put it aside, distract her with some of the myriad of other toys she has, and slide the gift into our gift closet when she wasn’t looking.

She was having none of that.

Despite my best efforts to outwit her, she kept finding the plastic horse (still in the box, mind you), bringing it over to me, and telling me that I should just surrender and open it now.  It was a battle of wills — and I’ll admit, I lost.

Having lost the battle of wills, I didn’t expect that I’d need a small thermonuclear device to get this toy open.  Which made me ponder the question of just why manufacturers make it so dad-blamed difficult to get into children’s toys?!?  It’s so bad that they even make a special tool to help parents get into these toys (my parents got us one during the holiday season and it’s a lifesaver!).

The horse was better secured than most toys, requiring a few more impatient minutes to get it open.  I left some of the accessories attached to the packaging to be opened later because Shortcake was not going to wait any longer for her new acquisition.

Finally, after much tension, worry and frustration (all of it on my part), the horse was free and ready to be played with.  Squeals of delight were heard from Shortcake, which made it all worthwhile.

The horse arrived after Shortcake accompanied me to the doctor. I’ve had the crud this week and wanted to get on the road to recovery sooner rather than later.  This blame my general lethargic feeling and weariness from coughing as to why I didn’t think before opening the package with the horse.  It also made me wonder just why the manufacturers of cold medicine put the doses in packaging that leads you to believe you can just tear it open if you tried hard enough.  Honestly, I think the Incredible Hulk would have a problem opening the cold medicine. In fact, this may be one of the reasons that Bruce Banner transforms into the Hulk to begin with.

The irony of this being the tenth anniversary of the premiere of Breaking Bad occurred to me.  No where in the early episodes of the show did we see Walter and Jessie struggling to open up all the packets of cold medication in order to make their infamous blue product.

 

Intensity

I’ve never seen myself watching a University of Tennesee football game, but I think I’ve got a pretty good idea (now) what I look like.

Shortcake loves watching timers count down.  Any timer will do, whether it’s the one on the stove, microwave or dishwasher.  Just set the timer, hit start and she is hooked until it counts down to zero.

And don’t make the mistake of getting between her and the object of her interest.  She will wiggle in her chair, leaning left and right until she can see it again. If that doesn’t work, she will loudly let you know that you’re blocking her view and that the sooner you move out of the way, the better off things will be for everyone.

 

I love watching her intense fascination with the timer.  It’s a go-to way to get her to calm down if she’s getting frustrated.

Yesterday, I set the timer on the microwave and the stove for her and started them both counting down. The look of sheer delight on her face, as if to say “Why didn’t I know that I could watch TWO timers?!?”  was wonderful. I can only imagine it’s the same look I had on my face when I first encountered a TV with picture-in-picture and I could watch two football games at once.

 

Curious About the Future, But Not in a Hurry

Every once in a while, I see people interacting with their children and I can’t help but stop and wonder what it will be like when Shortcake reaches that age or milestone.

Please don’t misunderstand me.  I’m in no hurry for her to grow up or to fast-forward past any of the stages in her life or development. I don’t religiously check the app we installed when she was born to track her dirty diapers and the stages of growth. As long as she meets most of the milestones she’s supposed to hit within the recommended window, this daddy will be happy.

The only big milestone that I’m sort of ready for her to hit is when she can finally begin to express herself verbally.  As she’s moved into the toddler stage, the reasons she may be frustrated have become a bit more complicated. It’s no longer just a selection of “My diaper is dirty” or “I’m hungry” or “I’m tired.”  I’d love to be able to ask her what part of her is hurting or not feeling right and she can respond.

I know that day is coming. And odds are when she’s talking over a new episode of my favorite show or during a crucial stretch of a Tennessee football game, I may question why I was so curious once upon a time to hear her be able to fully express herself.

Of course, I do understand what she wants when it comes to playing our favorite new game. Shortcake has learned to crawl up the stairs. To her, this is a delightful game and one that she could play for hours on end, if we would allow her to do so. Sometimes, I will crawl up behind her and every few steps, she’ll stop, look back at me, and not continue up the stairs until she gets anywhere from one to five kisses on the cheek.

And, yes, Daddy loves this little game.