Before we begin, I’d like to apologize to my neighbors (all of whom I suspect read this Blog) for yesterday’s rather massive explosion. I honestly did not know that an open-topped, steel, fifty-five gallon drum would explode like that just by adding gasoline and a dozen aerosol cans. Suffice to say, there were more flames atop yesterday’s burn barrel than there were on yesterday evening’s birthday cake. You can rest assured that I did this strictly for research purposes, for I am a writer, and life is one big research project. And I think we all learned something from the incident–that standing that close to such an explosion results in you losing most of your back hair and suffering first-degree burns on your arm.
So that’s how I started my forty-first year on the planet. With a rather big explosion.
And today, on the second day of my forty-first year on the planet, I was reminded once again of how my wife is much smarter than me.
As you might know, I’ll be busy doing Guest of Honor stuff at Context in Columbus this coming weekend. I’m hitting the road Thursday morning, along with fellow authors JF Gonzalez and Bob Ford. I’ll return Sunday night.
So this evening, Cassi was feeding Turtle his oatmeal and I was making him laugh and spit it all back out, and she said, “I’m nervous about this weekend.”
And I said, “I know. This is the first time I’ve been away this long since Turtle was born. But I left the .357 in the foyer, and the .38 is in the dresser, and the .45 is in the kitchen. Just remember to disengage the child locks before you shoot any intruders.”
“That’s not what I’m nervous about,” my wife said in a tone that clearly communicated what she was really saying was, “You are such an idiot. I can’t believe I married you when I could have married a nice investment banker instead, who didn’t have such an unreliable job or weird friends.”
“Then what’s bothering you?”
“I’m not looking forward to teaching Turtle to sleep in the crib.”
See, Turtle turned six months old recently, and he has yet to sleep in the crib by himself for an entire night. We’ve attempted it, certainly, but the child is blessed with his father’s temperament, which means that he basically screams and rants at the top of his lungs until someone picks him up.
“Well,” I said. “Why start this weekend?”
“Because you won’t be here.”
“Why do you have to do it when I’m not here?”
“Because you don’t have the guts.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. I searched my mind for a witty response, but none was forthcoming.
“Erm,” I said.
“Ah,” I followed it up with.
“Guts,” I finally stammered. “I don’t have the guts? Jesus Christ, honey!”
“What?”
“You don’t tell a man–especially a forty-one year old man who’s in the beginning stages of feeling his mortality–that he lacks guts. I mean, what the hell, while you’re at it, why not just suggest that my penis size is inadequate?”
“I can make it longer than you can.”
“So it is inadequate! I knew it. I knew all those women before you were lying to me!”
“Not your dick, you dick. All I meant was that when we put him in the crib, I can take him crying longer than you can. As soon as he whimpers, you pick him up and soothe him.”
“Well, duh. He’s a baby.”
“But he needs to learn to soothe himself. Do you want him to be doing this when he’s five?”
I shook my head. Obviously, if Turtle was still doing this five years from now, it would seriously hamper my sex life. He needed to learn to sleep in his own room.
“I’m his Daddy,” I explained. “I don’t like it when he’s unhappy or upset. It’s my job to fix those things.”
“Yes, but you have to be strong. You have to let him cry it out.”
“I do.”
Cassi laughed at me. Turtle watched her laughing, then joined in, banging his high chair with his little fists and giggling with glee.
I frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“You don’t have the guts,” she repeated.
“I do so.”
“Debby told me that you told her and Coop that he cried for an hour and forty-five minutes the other night.”
“He did!”
“It was fifteen minutes.”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “I think you’re wrong.”
“How would you even know how long he cried? You were only in there for three minutes. Then you ran outside because you said you couldn’t take it.”
I mumbled, “It sure felt like and hour and forty-five minutes.”
“My point is,” Cassi said, “it might be best to do this while you’re not home.”
I reluctantly agreed that she was right. Then we played with Turtle for an hour or so. Then I kissed them both goodnight and went out to my office to work.
I am blessed with a beautiful wife who is much smarter than me, and a wonderful child who is blessed with his mother’s good looks and intelligence. And I still get paid to make up stories about monsters and heroes and get paid good money for it.
Forty-one is gonna be magic.
I am still the Magus.
And my penis is still massive…
Happy belated B-Day Brian!
Amy
I’m the exact same way, I can’t take my nieces or nephew crying for over twenty seconds before I baby the living Hell out of ‘em, and I know it will only be magnified when there’s one of my own. I have no spine when it comes to children, and I can already tell that the wife is going to have to be the Firminator when it comes to strictness with a quickness.
Hope the back hair comes back in nicely and doesn’t form in a mutated Oriental symbol that has a bad meaning.
Keep rockin’ the 41 like it’s the new 18!
Take it from another Father let her do it while your away!! There plenty of things you can do with him later that she will gladly step back and let you do!!
I can’t leave my son to cry either Brian. He has to be held for a while before he even gets placed in his crib. I guess I’m gutless. BTW: Happy Late B-day man!
You do know what they call aerosol containers?
Duh, Bombs?
There’s a reason for that.
Next time you decide to improvise some pyrotechnic celebration, try using something that doesn’t produce fragmentation when it goes kablooey. And don’t use cans that contained flammables, like paint.
Get yourself a nice carbide cannon from Dixie Gun Works, or a signal cannon from a yachet supply place, either will make a bejeasusly bang, a satisfactory flash, and not kill hardly anybody at all!
I like dangerous toys too, but I’ve learned to be doubleplus careful with the damn things-it’s all great fun until someone loses an eye.
Then it gets hilarious!
(shotgun blanks make a Godawful roar, too, just for the record)
Safety first!
Happy Birthday!
Happy belated birthday…. and 2 kids, both given said same treatment… they still crawl into bed with us at about 5 am every night. It’s easy to put them in their own bed at the beginning of the night. and it’s easier to just go back to sleep when they crawl in with you in the wee hours.
Hi, Brian -
Happy belated b-day
I hope the transition to the crib goes smoothly. You’ll both sleep better once you have your bed back. And just think, you get to go through it all over again when he’s ready to go from the crib to a regular bed. Ah…the joys of parenthood.
happy belated b-day Adam Senft and no fires in the labyrinth. lol!
“You can’t defeat the penis!”
Sorry, Buffy flashback…
What noige said.
I would love you for your talent Brian even if your penis wasn’t massive. But I will say that despite the myth–and sorry to shatter it for all you straight boys out there–size does in fact matter.
I know exactly what you are going through. My daughter will be turning 21 in March and I still can remember the trauma I suffered and so, I believed she endured as well from the many attempts at “crib-training”. It does get easier and much easier if you aren’t there..
Besides Brian, that’s what teaching your son what baseball and football and comic books are for.
We Dads have our own special niche’s with our kids.
Our wives are much smarter and wiser and know that well before our thick skulls figure it out..lol
hang in there.
See ya Friday at Context and travel safe.
-Tom Erb
Who knew you and Elizabeth Bear shared a birthday?
Congratulations on getting owned by Cassi on your birthday. The more I hear about her, the more I’m convinced that you two are going to be awesome parents.
Let Cassi teach him about explosives, though, OK?
Brian just point out all the newly minted unemployed Investment bankers from Lehman and others so much for their job stability or security. Hell I bet they wished they were you right about now.
Don’t worry Brian, I never doubted the size of your dick!
Happy Birthday ya crazy bastard!
Mark Gunnells took the words right out of my mouth. Heh.
Actual conversation:
Me: So I got this idea for a weekend activity, I read it on Brian Keene’s blog and…
Girl: Who?
Me: Brian Keene. The guy that wrote that Rising book and Ghoul?
Girl: Oh, you mean the guy that writes that really high-quality Stephen King fanfic?
XD
Happy 41st! Here’s hoping DHS doesn’t show up at your house accusing you of setting off a pipe bomb or some stupid shit. (Though from the sound of it, luck and distance were all that saved you from a Darwin Award)
I was the same way – it took one night with me gone and daddy in charge and she fell right to sleep and slept through the night ever since.
I typed something about your penis but had to delete it. Just couldn’t go there!
Ah, parenthood…gotta love it! I have been pretty lucky with my little one, she always preferred sleeping in her crib than anywhere else.
As far as the massive penis…that’s a good thing, which may be one of the reasons for the little one being around. At least ya gotta hope it was that and not having pitty on you. J/K!
Oh like burning off all your back hair is a bad thing!
My wife recently learned a little trick with our 3-month old daughter. Watch TV with the baby in her lap until she’s asleep for about 10-15 minutes, then very quietly go lay her in her crib. She’s out about 7-8 hours before she gets hungry again.
And a happy belated birthday to you, Brian!
Happy belated, tummy-buzzers to Turtle, congrats on the massive penis, and kudos to the missus for everything!
Hey Brian,
Happy Birthday! Munchkin is ten weeks and I’ve been feeling bad about not getting him into his crib either. He’ll sleep in his pack’nplay, but not in his crib without crying. And like you…I can’t stand to hear him cry. So letting Cassie try it without you might be a good idea. DH thinks I am a wimp too, must be a writing thing.
Happy Belated Birthday Brian. Just think if you had put your son in his own crib in his own room long ago! That’s what we did with my daughter and did the whole baby monitor thing. Worked out well. Now I can’t get her to come out of her room longer than a trip to the fridge {8-(
Happy B-Day Brian. Thanks for recommending I read Dark Hollow before Ghost Walk. (We met at The Comic Store signing Oct 4). I’m about 1/2 thru the book and it’s great!!!!! Thanks again!!!!