Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Skills


This young man has skills.

Not only karate skills, but intellectual and people skills. He is continually on some type of Dean's list and was recently awarded the Star Citizen Award at his school.

Now he has graduated to the level of Black Belt which to me shows dedication to personal fitness, discipline of the mind and body and commitment to a higher set of values than most young men his age.

I know that his whole family is very proud of him, especially his mother and father. I just wanted to publicly announce that I am one very proud uncle. I can't wait to see the great things you will accomplish in your lifetime.

Congratulations, Nick!

Monday, June 2, 2008

I Dream in Stress

This is typical of the types of dreams I have. I'm usually in some series of situations that require me to solve some problems, sometimes the same one over and over in a groundhog day fashion. Although this one does not repeat exactly, I can't seem to get back to the hospital after my wife has a baby and I continue to go through a series of challenges.

As many of you know, my wife is 8 1/2 months pregnant. Remember, it's a dream, not a Hollywood script. It doesn't really flow or make sense all the time.

It's time. So we're at the hospital. My wife decides to leave the birthing room with all of it accoutrements and have the baby somewhere else in the hospital, away from the doctors in another room. It's some new "program", offering a more natural birth experience with just the husband and wife present. I worried sick about her and the baby.

As the time grows closer, somehow I'm momentarily distracted by my 1 1/2 year old son who has decided to show up in my dream, in the delivery room which has no doctors. (In case you are unaware, both of my daughters, then ages 4 and 2, ended up in the delivery room during his delivery, but that is just my everyday stressful real life that I can recount in another post.)

As I mentally rejoin the game, my wife is handing me the new baby that she had by herself while I was distracted. Everything seems okay. She has cleared the mouth and the midwives begin to gather and start some care. My wife charges me with getting the word out.

Next scene, I'm at my parents house informing them but I don't have all the details of the birth. Since there was no doctor present to call the birth time and weight, I don't have the freaking stats. What good is a new father, getting the word out, without the stats? So I call my wife in the hospital but she has so many visitors and calls, I'm having trouble getting through. Finally, I get the birth time and weight.

I'm trying to write it down and tell my mom at the same time. She's halfway out the door because she wants to go up to the hospital before gallivanting off on some plans she had previously made. I'm there with my dad and for some reason, we have to take the bus back to the hospital. The distance required to walk to the bus stop is putting a visible strain on him and I'm worried for his health. Along the way, I'm not sure I've got $1.25 cash for the ticket. Check my pocket, yes, a wad of 1's and 5's.

We arrive at the bus stop to find everyone from "the door" assembled to ride down to the hospital as well. (I'm talking about the whole "vagabond door troupe" here. About 20 people.) Well, the bus is taking forever to arrive at the stop. I'm looking at my watch and trying to calculate, from the birth time that I just recently found out, how long I've been gone from the hospital. About 4-5 hours. I've got to get back to the hospital.

Some bus like thing comes but it is the wrong one. I get on it to find out what the deal is and while I'm on the thing, the real bus comes. As I emerge from the fake bus, I start running for the real bus. Everyone is yelling and cheering for me and they somehow get the bus to slow down and I'm able to get on.

Well if you have ever ridden the bus, you know it does not take you to your destination, but to a hub. This hub is Colony Square Hotel in downtown Atlanta. I meet up with a few more of my personal friends who are on their way down to the hospital and are waiting on the bus.

I can't take it anymore. I've got to get back to the hospital. So in typical me fashion, I grab the concierge and tell him I need a cab. He directs me to an older guy who supposedly is a cab driver who will take me to his car. I'm taking all my people with me (the door troupe is waiting for the next bus). I better check that wad of 1's and 5's to see if I have enough. Some 10's and 20's are there. The old guy starts leading us away from the bus depot down some stairs, as the buses are rolling in.

We proceed down what seams like an unending spiral staircase to the bottom level ground transportation garage. He has a limousine waiting for us since we are a bigger crowd. I check my pocket again, there's a 100. Now he tells us to wait there while he finds the driver. I thought he was the driver. I've got to get back to the hospital.

While waiting on the driver, I can look up from the garage and see the bus stop. I notice one of my people is still over there and we begin to yell and motion to him to hurry up and come on down.

I finally wake up. Seriously people, I would have rather not gone to sleep. When you sleep in stress, how do you function during the day?

Your interpretations welcome.