On Other Side of the Velvet Rope
There is a lot of shit
When I told JS we were expecting, he immediately cracked, “You realize all the other kids are going to ask, ‘Why does [Anisa’s] grandpa keep picking him up?’”
Yes, I’m an old-man-girl-dad. Which is going to make for an interesting back side of life.
First of all, when Anisa graduates from high school, I am going to be nearly 70. And, I think we can all agree 70 is never going to be the new 50.
So, I should probably go to the doctor more than once every ten years. Which means that, yes, I will have seen more medical providers in the first 6 months of 2023 than I’ve seen in the last decade.
Nothing is wrong, JS, but thanks for asking.
Third, I should probably be a bit healthier. Exercise more. Eat better. Drink less. I’m going to say two out of three isn’t bad.
But the reason the other side of 50 fascinates me is the explosion in friendships I am about to experience.
Look, I am your classic introvert extrovert. As many a friend of the past 50 years will attest, I can be both socially vibrant (a word never associated with me) and socially awkward. I have been led to believe this vibe I have so carefully cultivated is going to be destroyed by Baby Girl. So, I am making new friends with the parents of Anisa’s future friends. As an added bonus, I feel like I’ve been let behind some sort of velvet rope with my existing friends who have children. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but in both cases, it is like the VIP room of friendships.
But, in this room, all we talk about is shit. Not shit like the various and sundry things of everyday life. That was the shit we talked about on the other side of the velvet rope. On this side, the VIS (Very Important Shit) side of the rope, we talk about literal shit. Frequency. Consistency. Color. Blowouts. Smell.
I’m not saying I have shitty friends. But, we are adults and all we do is talk about the ability of a baby to shit.
Meanwhile, I have old-man friends on the other side of the rope, thinking about crossing over, asking me, “What’s it like? Is it magical? Is parenthood amazing?”
To which, if I am going to be honest, I respond, “Well, at this point it is kind of a lot of shit.”
See, when I was on the other side of the velvet rope, I never really thought being a Dad. I was happy being an Uncle. I could flit in and out of a little person’s life, make them smile, and be on my merry way. I wasn’t shirking responsibility. But I also knew the life I had carved out was void of a certain kind of responsibility.
I didn’t wake up one day thinking, “You know what, I want to see what is on the other side of that velvet rope.” That would take introspection and feelings. (More words never associated with me.) Toya, and now Anisa, have changed all that. Now I’m on this side of the rope. And quietly stressed about all the things that are stressful about being a parent in 2023. Which, lucky you, we will talk about.
But, for the time being, I’m going to focus on shit.
What I’m Watching
I’ve come this far, so might as well see Succession to the bloody end.
Back in the day, I somewhat regularly rotated through the Fox News greenroom. For a hot minute, I was the not-angry-brown-guy making a pro-immigration case to Tucker Carlson, Lou Dobbs, Laura Ingraham and, FFS, Sean Hannity. Our theory was that millions of people watched these shows, so we should jump at the opportunity to make our case.
Honestly, I’m not sure if that was the right decision. But that’s for another day.
My point here is that even then, in the before Trump days, there was a news-tainment vibe to the entire operation. When the red light on the camera flicked on, voices got louder, language got sharper. But, when that light wasn’t on, it was all grins. “Let’s talk immigration and really get people riled up,” was the sentiment.
These days, as I root for, I mean, monitor, the Dominion lawsuit against Fox, and read all that was exposed via discovery, it is not at all surprising. These people are the worst.
What Makes Me Less Cranky
One of my favorite cookbooks these days is The Flavor Bible. It isn’t really a cookbook, though. It catalogues hundreds of ingredients, noting what herbs, spices, other ingredients, go great with them. So, when I am feeling adventurous in the kitchen, I’ll see what is in the fridge, grab the Flavor Bible, and see what happens.
A big butternut squash had been on the counter for weeks and I had two big bunches of swiss chard in the fridge. Anisa was my responsibility for a couple hours, so I strapped her to my chest, broke out the cutting board and went to work on above ingredients, along with a couple of pieces of steelhead, some broccolini and, my current favorite, some maitake mushrooms.
A good time was had by all.