Author: Kevin Lawver

So, it’s 9pm on Sunday night, and my favorite show of the summer is starting. I bought a 25 ft. phone cord last night so I can sit on the couch in the sunroom, watch TV and be signed on. Yeah, baby. This is my substitute or wireless networking, my friends. I would love to have DSL, a wireless gateway, wireless network cards and other cool tools, but hey, that costs money. The phone cord was $2.99. Here’s dreaming.

My computer downstairs isn’t even connected to a phone line. It’s three years old, starting to breakdown, and there’s no replacement on the horizon. Yeah, baby, this is the highlife.

Why do I bring this up? No idea… just rambling. I’m the only one I know of my friends at work with a wife, a kid and a mortgage, well, with a wife that stays home. (take your meds, Billy… sorry Six Feet Under moment). I love my life, but I sometimes watch my friends and wonder what it would be like to be able to go out on the weekend without worrying about Max and if he’s all right. To be able to go out and spend money without worrying about the mortgage. Yep, responsibility… it’s a bitch. But, I really (and I mean it this time) wouldn’t have it any other way. Max only gets more fun. He’s hilarious. He’s not saying words, but his babbling is becoming more intoned and animated. It’s too funny to listen to him babble away.

It’s funny. We make decisions with no real idea what the consequences will be. Thankfully, most of the time, things work out. We make it work. I’m glad that when I got married I knew what I was getting into. I knew what I wanted out my marriage, and I think we’re doing a pretty good job as a couple and as parents. So, that’s the state of the union. Now, back to the show… and Sweetie, I’m sorry. I hit the record button @ 9, but it didn’t start. I’ll fill you in when you get home.

Just because I’m a glutton for punishment, I watched Six Feet Under again. Yes, the one that ruined me on Sunday. Why? Jen hadn’t seen it, and I talked it up so much, she had to. So, I sat there and steeled myself against what I knew was coming. I got a little choked up, but no actual tears this time. Yes!

You know what’s sad though? Jen didn’t cry at all, didn’t even snorffle once! I was amazed. Her explanation was that she had detached herself from it and it didn’t get to her. Yeah, well, it got to me, lady… it got me good.

I’m still basking in the glow of my genius from yesterday. So much so that I’m not even thinking about any rumored impending layoffs.

Max digs couscous!! I went a little nuts at the grocery store the other night and got couscous and hummus and other weirdities. The hummus was assy, but that couscous was yummy. Max used his little spoon on the little pasta and fed himself until we had to stop him. He’s a funny kid.

Ruined Six Feet Under ruined me last night. In the first two minutes, I knew what was going to happen. I wanted to turn the TV off, run upstairs and check on Max, even though I know he’s almost two and that SIDS happens between birth and 18 months. The very thought that something like that could happen was enough. I cried.

Then, when Frederico had to embalm that three-week old baby and held his still little hand, I cried again. It was just so unfair that this young father (well, he’s the same age I am), who has one child and another imminent, had to deal with the idea of a dead child just stabbed me in the heart.

And the end of the show, when they had their own baby by c-section, JUST like we did, and the look on his face when he heard his new son cry for the first time – I lost it completely. I sat there alone in the dark with the credits rolling blubbering like a child.

I love that show. I love that it makes me feel. Most TV is absolute garbage. So much so that watching TV on Sunday (Sex and the City and Six Feet Under) makes the rest of the week painful. Jen mentioned that yesterday afternoon. She’s so smart.