The day after Christmas, we said goodbye to each other at the Greyhound station in downton Knoxville. That was 48 days ago. That was the day I became a non-resident father.

We all have our good days and our better days. One constant is that I miss my truest of true loves. I still cry every day because I miss her. I know she misses me too.

I wonder what kind of litmus test it is if you’re doing something you never thought you’d be doing. I never thought I’d be separated from my child and her mother. I always swore up and down I wouldn’t repeat the mistakes made by so many couples. I vowed to make it work. I thought I was better than everyone else and immune to the pitfalls faced by blended families.

I spent a lot of time and energy being angry at Renee and Austin. Anger is a very effective mask to wear when you don’t want to feel pain. Sometimes, when asked, “so how are things going?” it was my cue to launch into a vitriolic diatribe.

The relationship that Renee and I have is evolving. We will always be mommy and daddy to this beautiful little girl, but we are living separate lives. We recently had what amounts to the “seeing other people” talk.

Forging Ahead

I chose the name “21st Century Dad” for my blog because I wanted to embody what a father is in the 21st century. Fatherhood today is a new paradigm too. Fathers share more of the parenting duties. Fathers today are more involved in their children’s lives. Many fathers today don’t live with their children. I don’t know what the exact statistic is, but split custody, visitation, and child support are commonplace today. I’m still a 21st Century Dad.

How many blogs continue with their originally charted course? Obviously, my life hasn’t taken the course I had hoped for, but I’m not complaining. There are  opportunities at every potential turn in life. This relief from the day-to-day responsibilities as a resident father is affording me great opportunity.

As a small child, I loved taking things apart and putting them back together. It’s about time I did it with my life. Invariably, when I reassembled a toy, a few parts always remained, not having a clue where they came from. This time, I am stripping out as many unecessary items as possible, just like you’d do to a car you intend to use for racing.

The Sand Mandala

My thoughts return to the first time I learned what a Sand Mandala is. An intricate pattern of colored sand is laid down by Tibetan Buddhist monks over several weeks. Upon its completion, the Sand Mandala is ritualistically and methodically destroyed.

You don’t know what you need until you don’t have anything. I still have too much stuff. eBay and craigslist have been helpful here. Here I am, in the midst of dismantling the life I have built for the past 35 years.

This is just as much a spiritual journey as it is one of financial rehabilitation. Some of this consumerist detritus can be converted into cash. Video games, photography equipment, electronics, and supplies for projects conceived but never even started only weigh us down. One tenet of Buddhism is that our attachment to material things is the source of our suffering. Only when we release that need, do we find enlightenment.

Of course, when I first learned that about Buddhism, I thought, “no way I’m giving up my Commodore 64!”

Fighting the Clutter and Winning

Sentimentality conspires against us. It makes us hold on to things and squeezes us out of a harmonious relationship with our home. It is our experiences, thoughts, ideas, and feelings that make us who we are. Do we really need to validate those things by holding on to physical objects that only takes up space?

Ironically, I feed someone else’s urge to purchase things as I offload items through eBay and craigslist. I’m selling instant and temporary gratification to alleviate the ill effects of my own journey. The extra cash is nice. It’s the last gasp of usefulness I will get from these items. Their potential energy has been pent up, buried within clutter and disarray. This last release keeps the lights on at home another month. It buys a bus pass. It buys groceries.

You don’t know what you need until you don’t have it. The packrat defends his ways by recounting the few times he needed an item that was recently discarded. The only thing I ever needed by holding on to things was more storage space.

This isn’t loss or destruction. It’s liberation.

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Happy Birthday!

Our Little Girl Turns 1 today!

You’re my precious little angel. You are my truest of true loves. You’re only going to be a baby once, but you’ll always be my baby girl.

One full year has passed since the journey began. Whew! It really does go by in a flash. From her incredible birth story to where we are today, I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. The incredible speed with which time passes after the birth of a child is offset by those times when she is crying, screaming, and inconsolable. That’s when time stands still. I love everything about this little girl, even those times when she is crying, screaming, and inconsolable.

Part of the festivities include a portrait of her in a traditional Korean hanbok. The dress she is wearing in the photo is one that is worn on a girl’s first birthday. You can see more photos of Twilli in my Flickr photostream.

A New Father and a New Man

I often say that I was born on August 7th, 2007 too. The birth of your first child changes you forever. My daughter’s role as my spiritual advisor continues to expand. No matter what happened in my past or what the crisis du jour is, my daughter is there for me as a reminder of how precious life is. She is the reason I want to be the best dad and the best person I can be.

Others Who Share a Birthday With Twilli

As a die-hard hockey fan, I’m pleased to know Sidney Crosby shares a birthday with my little one. He was born on 8/7/87, hence, he wears jersey number 87. Today is a significant milestone birthday for Mr. Crosby too. Twilli will enjoy some juice in a sippy cup. Sid the Kid barely missed drinking form Lord Stanley’s Cup this past spring. Today, he is raising a pint or two, or three or four or five…

Twilli has an affinity for metal objects. They hold her attention and sometimes find their way into her mouth. She likes metal. Bruce Dickinson, lead singer of Iron Maiden, also celebrates today. His impressive vocal range earned him the nickname “Air Raid Siren.” We get to hear our little air raid siren when daddy extracts inedible objects from her mouth or when the magic boobies are not there when she wants them.

Ernesto Brown, a reader in Miami, has a daughter who shares a birthday with our Twilli. Happy birthday to you too.

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Some of you already know that Portnoy has not been doing well. At the vet’s recommendation, we were planning to have him put down after a few days, so we could say our goodbyes. Fortunately, he wasn’t in pain, just feeling “blah” all the time due to anemia. I was afraid that I would find him curled up in a dark and quiet corner of our house. My fears were confirmed on Tuesday.

Portnoy and his litter mates were abandoned at a construction site. One of our friends took them in and found new homes for each of them. Portnoy found his way into our home and our hearts in November of 2006.

Portnoy is named after Mike Portnoy, the drummer from Dream Theater. I have been a fan of the band for over 15 years, having seen them in concert multiple times. I have even met Portnoy’s namesake on a few occasions. He was always friendly and outgoing, just like the cat named after one of progressive rock’s greatest drummers.

Shortly after bringing Portnoy home, we arranged for a checkup with the vet. This is when we learned that he has the feline leukemia virus (FeLV). At first, we were admonished for taking such a cat in, but the vet fell in love with him too. We were told that his odds of surviving the first year were slim. He lived to be almost two years old.

Portnoy loved to groom himself

Kittens are fast little buggers. They’re hard to catch. He seemed to teleport from one part of the room to another, so we called him “Teleportnoy.” We started appending names and words with “noy.”

• While Renee was pregnant, I called her “Pregnoy.”
• When Twilli would go on her serial breastfeeding binges, we’d call her the “Nursenoy.”
• Portnoy started off as the smallest of the three cats, but grew to be quite large. Sometimes we called him “Biggernoy.”

One question we often got was, “does he complain a lot?” Most people know the title of the Philip Roth novel, “Portnoy’s Complaint,” but don’t know the story. It’s one of those quips that get diluted with repetition, just like the E.T. references I endured all through grade school. Those who actually know the story got a hearty laugh when I said, “no, he doesn’t complain, but we were sure to get him neutered.”

This is especially difficult for me since Portnoy is the first cat I’ve known since he was a little kitten. I never had pets growing up, but got introduced to James and Boo when I met Renee. I call them my “step-cats.”

Renee thought a kitten might allow Boo to call upon her maternal instincts. Instead, James took on the parent/mentor role with Portnoy and they became best buddies. James and Portnoy slept at the foot of our bed every night.

Portnoy enjoys his nap.

Portnoy will be missed. He was such a great cat.

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Renee posted about Twilli reaching the 9 month mark today. We acknowledge this milestone on the 7th of each month.

Every expectant couple hears, “it goes by so fast.” Sometimes it’s followed by, “take lots of pictures.”

To commemorate the milestone, I used to set up the whole Strobist rig and dress her in a nice outfit. I haven’t done that this month… or last month. The number of photos I take of Twilli is on a downward trend. Maybe I just get a higher percentage of “keepers.”

Our video coverage has been spotty. It will have to step up soon. Twilli is quickly approaching the day she will take her first real steps. Just like we were ready with the “baby bag” during the last month of pregnancy, we must keep a video camera in a high state of readiness.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve neglected my family duty by not taking more photos. I have more digital imaging horsepower at my disposal than most of my peers. Now I realize I’d rather have a few great photos of my children than a bunch of mediocre ones.

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