This was Emerald the way she looked when I first met her.
I first met her summer 2003. There was a new chick at work - funny, hot, angry, open minded, rebellious, big tittied, everything I was looking for. But I never thought she'd get with me. Next thing you know we're spending every night after work sitting in her car for hours and hours listening to cds and talking and ... well, doing other things.
We fell in love like two bricks falling off a building. There was no stopping us. I knew she had a kid, though, and that frightened the shit out of me. I didn't know if I wanted to be a dad if this relationship took off. But when I met Emerald, little baby Emerald, I feel instantly in love. Her and her blonde little locks of hair and her pacifier and her cute little arms. She was my little baby.
And look at her now ...
A week from tomorrow she's going to have her first day of school. And that is eating away at my insides. I don't want her to go to school. I don't want her to grow up. I don't want her to get old.
I don't want to get old.
... and this is the first picture of little baby Isabela. Seeing her now walking and laughing and yelling DADADADADAH! every chance she gets, it's hard sometimes to remember the serious health problems she had once she was born and how for a whole week we were on the edge of our seats hoping she's get better. Those were bad times. A week of pure fear and rivers of tears. We didn't know. We just didn't know if the baby was going to be alright. God.
Seeing her in her breathing helmet, her oxygen bubble, she was our little space baby. That's what we'd call her to make a rare joke, add a little lightheartedness to that inner demon that worried that she might die. But she didn't, our little space baby. God. That all seems like so long ago.
And look at her now ...
It's almost Isabela's first birthday. She's going to be a year old. One year old. She's not a baby anymore. She's growing up. But I don't want that. I don't want her to grow up. I don't want her to get old.
I don't want to grow old.
I'm almost thirty.
Fuck me, I'm almost thirty.
I never thought I would live this long. I figured I'd be dead or killed or the world would have come to an end by now, SOMETHING so that I wouldn't be an old fuckin' thirty year old.
I had a conversation with my wife a few weeks ago. I told her that I thought I was having a midlife crisis. She said, honey, you're way too young to be having a midlife crisis. I said, not if I die when I'm sixty.
That pretty much sums up how I'm feeling. I'm broke and my health is shit and I feel dizzy and weak a lot and I have constant nonstop stomach pains and I'm hardly eating anything and my kids are getting older and I'm getting older and all this just builds up into this little ball that sinks down into my stomach like I just swallowed a brick and it hangs there. So I get to work and I drink lots of coffee and I work ten times harder and faster than anyone else there, faster and harder than I know that I should work because when I'm at work all I have is me and the books. It's my time to be alone in my cavernous kids section and not have to think about how dirty our house is or how old I'm getting or how the government is screwing me over, taking all of my family's money because of student loans that they say that I owe that my parents took out in MY name.
I'm having a rough time of things.
I don't want Emerald to go to school. I don't want to hear this house filled with silence while she's off learning and laughing and hurting and growing up without me by her side. I don't want Isabela to get older and grow up and talk and break my heart and leave me. I don't want to be broke. And I don't want to be a guy in my thirties.
That's about all of it.
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Monday, August 28, 2006
Moanings of a Man Almost Thirty ...
God I feel fucking old.