I just saw this headline
on my local news station's website. Prison time??? The sad bastard should have his balls cut off so that he can't possibly procreate again!! Anyone who could do this kind of shit to their own kid doesn't deserve to live!
This kind of crap really gets to me more and more lately. All right, the truth. Our little guy KC, whom I have talked about on more than one occasion, was brutally abused when he was about three months old, to the point where he will probably never exceed the mentality of a two year old. And the person who perpetrated the crime received thirty months in prison. I repeat, the lowlife who hurt KC got thirty months. KC is relegated to a lifetime's existence as a baby, and this scum gets out to hurt kids again. You want a punishment to fit the crime? Give me five minutes with that bastard in a locked room, and give me a baseball bat. We'll see how he likes living the rest of his life in that kind of condition.
Rope. Tree. You know the drill.
TwoDragons has a good post
about feeding children. We were doing good with our kids until one day I made the mistake of telling Josh where hamburger came from.
Josh: Dad? Where does hamburger come from?
Josh: [stunned silence for ten seconds or so while eyes enlarge to approximately the size of Hummer hubcaps] COWS!!!!
Me: Yeah. You got a problem with that?
Josh: Why do we eat cows?
Me: Because it's against the law to eat liberals.
Deep shit time again, but it was worth it!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
Spent a little time checking the news online (our local TV station has a pretty good website
) and noticed this story
. One question sticks in my mind; who in their right mind would do this? It reminds me of that idiot in Georgia who dumped bodies that were to be cremated all over the ground around the crematory. Did he honestly think no one would eventually notice?
That's my venting about the news for the month. Now back to more gushing over my new daughter (and remarks about kids in general). SR slept all night last night, thanks be to the Almighty. SR gets fed at night by G-tube (slowly, only 40 cc per hour), and she was very tired last night, so I guess she just crashed and burned when her little head hit the crib. Good thing, too, as The Better Half and I were wiped out last night after trying to get J, P and M into bed at a decent hour. I swear, at times it's like trying to herd cats to get these little heathens to listen to reason. Maybe that's the problem; most adults don't listen to reason, why should I expect children to? Duh! *smack on forehead with hand, forgetting that hand is holding pen at moment* OUCH! That's gonna leave a mark.
KC didn't have to go to school today, so I didn't have to prepare his formula and meds before I left for work. You know, that's why I've been feeling like something was missing today, my routine was off. Damn. Speaking of KC, The Better Half and I (all right, all right, The Better Half, then) have been trying something different with the little bugger lately. KC has a G-tube and a J-tube for feeding (the difference being the G-tube leads to the stomach, the J-tube leads to the small intestine; the J-tube was installed when his reflux got too bad for him to have anything on his stomach at all). The Better Half tried giving him his formula through his G-tube the other day, and lo and behold, no problems! It's also a little more convenient for us, since he can be fed at a higher volume through the G-tube (max for G-tube is as fast as he can stand it; max for J-tube is right about 50 cc/hour). We're making progress, folks! We've been feeding KC through the G-tube for about a week now, and so far, so good.
Work is calling my name (actually, work is kicking me in the butt as we speak, but what else is new?). See you later!
Real quick: just ran a spell check on this and the system wanted to replace "meds" with "meads". I wish!!
She's here! Sarah Rose is here! Start the celebration! And she's just as cute as I remember her being. Head full of hair (do I detect a note of jealousy here, baldy?) and a little button nose. Right now it's 11 p.m. here in central North Carolina and The Better Half is still trying to get the final bottle into little SR (as she shall be referred to from here on). Well, she got two ounces into her before she called it quits. That's not bad, considering that SR at 17 months is about the size of a "normal" eight month old.
Now THIS is going to be interesting. SR is a hot blooded little girl, and she will be sleeping in the crib in the same room as KC. KC is hypothermic, meaning that he is always cold. So now we have a little "hot rock" and a little "ice cube" in the same room. I foresee some long nights in our future. I'm going to catch grief for this, but by "our" in the previous sentence I really mean The Better Half. It's a running joke in the family that once I fall asleep, you could detonate a hand grenade in the bed beside me and I'd just roll over. So it's not that I don't want to help with the little ones at night, it's that I don't hear them.
ET: Yeah, right.
Let's see, what else is new? I've been spending a lot of time at Emperor Misha's
site lately. I love watching Misha and the Loyal Citizens (and yes, I count myself as one) take apart trolls in the comments section. Kinda makes me want to start a comments section here, but quite frankly, I don't have the time to keep it up. Maybe I could do like Frank J.
and just let everyone run rampant in comments. That might work. Only drawback to that is that I don't know enough to put comments in here. OK, I'm stupid, I don't know HTML. Help? Or is it really worth it? Email me
and let me know.
Working on three months smoke free. Had the weirdest dream the other night -- I was attacked by a cigarette machine that kept shooting cigs at me. It was just like that Nicorette commercial on the tube, except the machine attacked me at odd times -- after dinner, during exercise time, while driving, etc. Come to think of it, those were prime times when I used to smoke. Coincidence?
OK, I backslid. I've had two cigarettes in the last two weeks. Sue me. I had one while I was taking R down to Camp Geiger for his combat training school. It was a Marlboro Red, and for about five minutes I was cruising the ozone after smoking that bad boy. I'd forgotten how powerful them things were. The second one was smoked (halfway) about four nights ago, I stole one of The Better Half's weeds and tried to plow through it. Couldn't do it, had to throw half of it away. Guess I'm losing my taste for them, thank G-d.
We pick up our new daughter tomorrow night. Sarah Rose is 16 months old. She is Latino-Caucasian (sounds like a shoe style, don't it?). She is also visually impaired and suffers from cerebral palsy, microcephaly, and short bowel syndrome, to name a few. We have an opportunity to adopt her, and The Better Half and I can't wait for the six month waiting period to expire so that we can give her our last name. She's cute as a button!
KC turned four today! Don't know what we'll do to celebrate. I mean, how do you celebrate someone's birthday when that someone has no awareness that it is even his birthday? I was tickled to death the other evening when KC actually reached over his head and grabbed his rattle! He was shaking that thing like there was no tomorrow. Of course, every third shake or so he bopped himself in the head, but to see that grin on his face made it all worth it.