Happy New Year!
Quick updates to be followed by longer, but not better, post!
I've been boxing a little more, hurting myself a lot more. I hope to continue to do the former, not the latter. I've been trying to eat less sugar and overall just eat less. Seems to be working for now...
In anticipation of our upcoming expenses, I've been MUCH more conscious of where I spend the little bit of disposable income I have left after bills. This past week, I spent a total of $15 on gas. I hope I can continue to not spend money on things I don't need. No more stopping for coffee and egg, sausage and cheese sandwiches on the way to work. (see Fitness)
Everyone in the immediate family is healthy. No boils, warts, open sores, or diseases to report. Sara is feeling huge and tired, as is expected.
This leads very nicely into my thoughts of the moment. There was an episode of The West Wing (one of the best shows on TV), that I'm sure my brother can quote word for word, called Abu el Banat. To quote Wikipedia, The title refers to a visit the President paid to Egypt with his family, where the tour guide constantly introduced him to everyone they met as "Abu El Banat." When asked, the guide told him it meant "father of daughters." The people to whom he was introduced then paid for the future President's tea out of sympathy for the special difficulties faced by a man raising three girls.
In a little over a month and a half, I will Abu el Banat. I'm not distressed or upset by this development. I am overjoyed that everyone is healthy. My mother has had a vision of me surrounded by my girls.
I mention this, not because I want people to pay for my tea, although that would be in line with some of my goals for the new year (see Financial) but because I find it amusing that when Sara and I were discussing starting a family, I jinxed myself by saying how terrified I was to have daughters.
Did I say "was?" I meant "am."
Don't get me wrong, I have no problem changing diapers and I've gotten better at giving Harper a bath without feeling a little weirded out. I adore my daughter more than I ever though I would. I can watch her sleep for hours and when she's crying and reaches for me, I can imagine myself running across deserts and swimming oceans for her. I have trouble imagining that I could love anyone as much I love her. I do wonder if I'll be able to love the second one as much and I've already told Sara that she can have the new one and I'll take the old one.
I'm getting a bit far from where I wanted to go...
What I am scared of now is the same thing that I was scared of when I made the statements. At some point, she will grow up and boys will start noticing her. They will be thinking horrendous things that would make the Marque deSade blush. They will try to get her to do things with them. On top of all of this, she will hate me. If not because I will brutally dismember anyone with a member who even glances in her direction with anything in their heart other than a desperate need to help her open the doors to a nunery, then because at some point, she will be a teenager and will be obligated by society to hate me.
I have years to brew these thoughts in the ungodly cauldron that is my mind. With a second daughter, my thoughts will get even worse.
Sara and I have been having an issue with Netflix (It's related, bear with me.) Sara keeps putting movies on her queue that relate to domestic violence, cheating, or the deaths of husbands/wives. I thought she might have been sending a message about how much she secretly hated me, but it has given me an idea. I will start adding movies to the cue about boys who beat their girlfriends, take advantage, and generally mistreat them. I will add movies about strong, independent women who discover a life that is wonderful without the need for boyfriends. I will add movies about women who find happiness by reaching for their goals and pushing boys to the side, to be found at some later date, after the credits.
Already, every time Harper falls down, or bumps her head on something sharp, or generally hurts herself, I follow it up with "Oh no! Did that mean boy hurt you!" "That boy sure does have sharp corners."
I've been told that I seem to be grooming my daughters to be lesbians, to which I reply "Lesbians generally don't end up pregnant at 16."
Maybe I could take the approach with which my uncle found success: I will simply keep them so busy with activities that they will be unable to find the time for boys.
I suddenly understand why Stephanie Meyer (may her pens dry up and her manuscripts forever get lost in the mail) takes 300 pages for her high school senior to finally have sex with the "love of her life."
She was writing it for her daughters. It's just an unfortunate oversight on the part of a "loving" God that other people had to see her literary feces.
But that's a topic for another day.
P.S. I may in the future do a Q&A on here about whatever. If you have questions that you would like me to answer, feel free to leave them!
Abu el Banat, signing off for now.