A Crawling Princess

She's mobile.

My Princess. My only daughter. My precious, last-born, baby girl.

She hit a big milestone today. She's crawling. I never realized all the things I needed until now. A sturdier entertainment center in the living room. A better vacuum. Hairless pets. An alternative route throughout the house for the boys. Hard to believe I've been through this before, it seems so long ago since Emery depended on me for everything. Nowadays, he and Bunny can make their own lunches, they're only slightly less messy than I am.

It seems like Randi is growing up way, way too fast. Maybe it's because I know what to expect. Maybe it's because I know she's the last one I'll have. I would assume it's a mix of those plus being older, but I would appreciate if it would slow down some on occasion. Abby and I were talking during our morning coffee and she said,

 "Can you believe in three years we'll have a fifth grader, a third grader, and a pre-schooler?"

I thought about it all day. She's right, it's crazy how fast things go. I'm still having a hard time believing that in two months I'll have a 7-year old, 5-year old, and a 1-year old.


If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go spend the rest of my night crawling around the living room with Princess.

Still a Writer

Dedicating myself to being a writer has been a few things. It's been fulfilling to finally see myself recognized as something I've always secretly hoped to be. It's been amazing to put my ideas out in the open for hundreds and thousands of people to read and be accessed by countless others. In the past year I've published my first book (which sold an astonishing six copies, seriously no sarcasm there I didn't think it'd sell one), I've become a published newswriter for two different and legitimate sites (Liberal America and Re:Decatur), and I'm getting published this month in my first literary magazine (Voluted Tales). This is all not to mention getting paid to write in other aspects through a few freelancing jobs as well. Calling myself a writer has done wonders for my actual writing itself.

The other side of it is that I now have this even stronger urge to keep writing. Unfortunately that's where this blog comes into play. I am still a stay at home parent and for the past few months I went from having one child (Bunny) everyday for four to five hours by myself with Emery coming on a set days to now in the summer I've got three kids here everyday, two of which stay here everyday, for eight hours. By myself. This is where the frustration comes in.

Don't get me wrong. I love the time I get with them. It's amazing, it's wonderful, it's inspiring, and I could not be more blessed, but not very many people really understand. I used to get a couple hours of down time every night to write and blog and research and what not. Now by the time the little ones are asleep, I'm ready for bed myself. And I feel like I'm failing.

I refuse to fail my children, no matter how stressed I am. No matter how unfulfilled the writer in me is. I try my hardest and move forward, but summer has been wretched on my writing side. I get asked what I'm doing with writing, I get emails about articles that I wish I could take, but I cannot. Re:Decatur in particular has been tremendously patient and I cannot thank them enough nor apologize quite right for not being as big of a contributor as I hoped to be.

Please, please do NOT interpret this as me being unhappy or unsatisfied with my life, because I am absolutely not. This is a place for me to be honest and frank and that's all I'm trying to be. I am in love with the life I have and I am very happy with it. I've got more to be thankful for than to complain about, but sometimes it's good to get things off of your mind.

In closing, I'd like to ask if any parents (especially stay-at-home) feel similar? If so, how did you channel your individual interests when your children were young? Thanks for checking in, Randi's up from her nap so I've gotta go.

Gaming Through Grief (Part 2): The Day

Day 10,429 (Part 1 of 2)

He was gone.

Today was the day.  Forever I would remember.  We all would.  We, the children of Randy and Kim, were burying our father.  So alive mere days ago, yet now only living in our memories.  Nothing could have prepared me for how I would feel.

Family came together, I saw cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends I had not seen in years.  Holdings us, all of us, in each of their hearts, their minds, and in their prayers.  I can't do this, I thought on the way to the funeral home.  I'm just going to keep on going.  Get some coffee and in a few hours we'll realize how much of a mistake we made.

He's not gone. 

Be he was.  Dad was gone.  Dad is gone.

The visitation was minuscule, because that's all that was covered.  Yet even in the minimalism I could only see a blur.  The face of an aunt.  Hi, thanks so much for being here.  Hug and a kiss on the cheek.  The outstretched hand of an uncle.  Damn, you guys are all so grown now.

The five of us (Cory became extended offspring a defalta through his lifelong relationship with Dad) stood for a moment of silence in front of this non-significant box that housed my father's remains.  Silence.

I looked at each of them with tears welling and pain lining their eyes, noses, and mouths.  I wanted to hold each one and tell them it wasn't real.  We had our moment, each of us touching the closed casket hoping it would substitute for actually touching him.  It did not.

We filed out slowly into the foyer, ready to complete the next part of this nightmare.  Burial.

I tried to spark conversation, however fruitless.  Nic and I walked down the hall and poured ourselves coffee.  We pretended to be able to sip the scalding blackness, muttering nonsensical syllables between each other as we returned to our positions flanking the gathering area.

You're Big Randy now, someone said to me.  I don't remember who, as I said everything bled together that day.  I looked back into the visitation room.  The river of carpet stretching out between pews ending with a stand that my Dad's casket was perched upon.  

Just a second, I told Abby motioning toward the funeral home workers, tell them to hold on for a second.

I walked back down to Dad's box.  I touched it with both hands and felt the escape of tears as they dripped onto his casket, leaving dark wet memories of the pain in my heart.

It's on me now, Dad, I said, I know you died with worry.  You worried about everything.  I'm an adult, hell, they're all adults now with kids and families, but you can trust me.  I'll be there for them like you would have been.  I'll love them, I'll keep my shit together so I can always help them like you would.  Don't take that worry with you, Dad.

I cried.

I love you, Dad, I said before kissing the box, I miss you so much. 
Already.

(to be continued)

Gaming Through Grief (Part 1): The News

Day 10,426

To be honest with you, I've been dreading this post.  Four days and four months ago my life was forever changed with the unexpected and sudden loss of my namesake, my father Randy Stewart.

Before the phone call from my sister I would have told you that my 28 years of life had seemed more like 56 with the mountain-peak highs and Death Valley lows in conjunction with the amount of experiences I've witnessed.

"Randy!  Randy!"  Cera wailed in the phone.

"Cera, what the hell?  What's going on?"  I thought she was going to say one of her kids was hurt, that someone had stolen something, a pet died.  Not my Dad, though.  He hung tough, despite the missteps and redundancies, my Dad would always be there with a sarcastic comment and a full flavor cigarette.

Cera's sentences were jumbled, sounding like a singular, manic word instead of separate syllables.

"IcalledLathampolicebecauseDad.  Jesus Christ. Dadstillwouldn'tanswermycalls."

I responded in silence.  I knew what she was going to say.  

Dammit Dad, I thought, you didn't take your meds.  You had a seizure and hurt yourself.  You could've called someone.

"Theyhadtobreakdownthedoor!"

"What?  Where is he?  How bad was he-"

"Randy," there is a suspended silence right before a tornado rips a house into shreds, a sliver of time that the winds and rain go quiet and a false sense of luck sweeps over you before the sound of wind's fury bears down in ear popping, locomotive pressure.  That fake relief washed over me quickly before I realized the worst was coming in the next few words my sister whispered.

"They found Dad in there, he's dead."


My jaw tightened.  Cera exhausted every ounce of her strength to force those words past her lips and melted down, succumbing to the terrible sounds of tragedy.  Of anguish.

We cried together on the phone for a few seconds until the reality rushed out of my heart and to my head.  Panic.  I had to get off of the phone, I had to focus, I needed to get home to Abby, my brothers I needed to tell them, we needed to talk and be together and focus and, I had to get off of the phone.



"Why are you crying?"

Gunner.  In the backseat, a silent observer to my breakdown.  I sucked in and wiped my palm across my face.

"I'm sorry, Bunny, I'm sorry you saw me like that."

"But why are you crying?"

"A bad phone call, buddy.  I got some real bad news, really sad news."

He and I drove in silence.  He spoke again a few minutes later when we pulled into the driveway.

"You don't have to be sorry for crying, remember?  You told me that."

I laughed through composed tears.

"Thanks, Bun."

"It's your heart isn't it?  Your heart hurts?"

"It does."

"My mom will hug you and I'll hug you and when Emery gets here he will hug you, too."

I leaned back and held his hand trying my hardest not to burst again.

"That means everything to me right now," I said, "I love you."

"I love you, too."

-to be continued-

Playoffs? Playoffs?!

Thank you Jim Mora for your timeless rant.

Being a football fanatic, my family gets wrapped up in my passion so today we did a blind drawing for each family member.   Everyone received one team from each conference.  Let's see how it turns out.

 Abby/Randi :

NFC - New Orleans Saints

AFC -  Denver Broncos

Emery :

NFC - San Francisco 49ers

AFC - New England Patriots

Gunner :

NFC - Carolina Panthers

AFC - Indianapolis Colts

Me :

NFC - Seattle Seahawks

AFC - San Diego Chargers



Not sure what the winner will get, but Gunner and Emery have already commenced the trash talking.  Check back later for "Gaming Through Grief."  It is a write up on how I have began dealing with and moving forward from the passing of my father.  Take care!

Welcome Back

It's been a long, long time. Unfortunately, I won't be writing a long one tonight.  The little ones are sick and Daddy has to work in the morning. I just wanted to touch base with everyone and welcome you back to the episodes of my life as a Daddy, a writer, and a student. A lot has changed since I last posted.

In September I experienced the most divisive range of emotion I've ever felt in my life. My own father passed, suddenly and unexpectedly.  It is a stabbing pain in my chest that still I struggle with.

Ten days after my siblings and I crowded in North Fork Cemetery to say our final goodbye to our father, Abby and I said our first hello to our beautiful daughter. If you followed my episodes before you'd be expecting to be introduced to Elsa, but we changed our minds upon seeing her.

The newest addition to our family is a gorgeous little girl that honors both sides of her family in her name. Randi Janice, my little princess.

Thanks for stopping by.

Good night!