Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Dienda is one of my favorite songs ever, and it was written by the late, great Kenny Kirkland. Kenny, Sting and Branford Marsalis were all in a band together during the eighties. Branford recorded his version of the song with Kenny still living and playing piano, and Sting recorded his after Kenny's death, but both versions are badass.

Sting's version:

Branford's version

Friday, April 11, 2014

I have spoken at length about how arduous and draining parenting can be, and sometimes I don't feel like my words do proper justice to just how difficult it is. But, a few times a week, positive rays of light will shine down upon me (and the wife) as a reminder that parenting is equally frustrating and joyous. I suppose these things balance themselves out for sanity's sake.

Earlier in the week, as I do most mornings, I took my son to daycare, spent 30 minutes trying to help him get his coat off (despite him insisting he could do it alone), kissed him and said goodbye. He's usually the first pre-toddler to arrive, which means he gets to be alone with the toys(and the teacher of course), and he could care less about the daily separation anxiety his father has--quite frankly at his age, he should not give a good goddamn about such things. I walked towards the door, looked at him enjoying his toy extravaganza a little more, and then i proceeded to walk out of the pre-toddler room and towards the exit to my car.

Before I could exit the building, my son left the pre-toddler room, and started sprinting towards me yelling, "Daddyyy!". He kept right on sprinting until he reached my legs, and he hugged me and said, "Bye Daddy", and I picked him up and kissed him and said, "Bye Nyles". Then I put him down, and he sprinted back towards the toys in the pre-toddler room, and went on about his business. The entire exchange lasted about a minute, but it made my entire day. I didn't get emotional and cry as I have been wont to do recently, I just had a big ass smile on my face that lasted all of 45 minutes until my evil co-workers ruined it all. But that brief moment of clarity still resonates with me, so I thought I would share.

As you were...

Thursday, March 27, 2014

I spoke in my last entry about being irrationally emotional, and after speaking to my main man jazzbrew, it is clear that trait isn't going anywhere fast. But there also times when I am justifiably emotional due to the magnitude of the moment, and this picture causes that to happen:

This picture doesn't even capture the true emotion of last weekend. When Nyles woke up, he shunned his morning beverage and attention from his parents, and he made a beeline to Carlton's bed so he could call his name and wake up him. Carlton, bless his heart, would be knocked out with cold in his eyes, but he still would wake up just to say hi to Nyles--even if Nyles said hi 456 times in a row in just 30 seconds, Carlton still said hello right back. It warms my heart to see my two sons talking, joking and interacting. Nyles may not understand that Carlton is his older brother, but he seems to know they bond for some reason and he runs with it. Carlton knows that's his little brother, he embraces that role, even though he's 16 years old and knee deep in hormonally-charged emotions.

I put that picture on my facebook page, and jazzbrew wrote, "Me and Baby Brother", which I have mentioned several times in this blog when referencing me and younger brother Jamal. But that song fits the picture perfectly...

Sunday, March 16, 2014

I don't know what it is, but being a father magically makes you lose control of our previously stable emotions. I cry at the drop of a hat these days, and if I told you the types of thing that provoke those tears (and I will shortly) you'd think I was a pregnant woman, not a 39-year old father. During the past month, I've shed tears during Toy Story, Finding Nemo and Despicable Me. And I'm not talking the type single tear that falls down the statue of Native American statue, these are real, plentiful tears that usually are reserved for births, deaths and funerals.

Nyles is completely oblivious to this, and my wife has always been emotional, so this is nothing to her. But me? I don't know what happened. I had an awesome cryless streak that extended over a 2-3 year span at one point, and now I'd be lucky to make it through an episode of Sesame Street without reaching for the kleenex. This is yet another aspect of fatherhood that my dad warned me about, and I slept on. Other things that make me emotional:

1) Fathers and sons walking together
2) Old black ladies struggling in the grocery store
3) My grandmother's failing health
4) This song by John Coltrane:

This may seem like a silly reason to blog, but for the 400th time I am refusing to kill this blog dead, and opting to kick start it, by writing a series of short entries. This is SO working.

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

I remember when I was younger and I would fantasize about being older, having my own place, and just doing the things I wanted to do, as opposed to having terms repeatedly dictated to me. My father would basically pat me on my head and tell me to cherish my youth, because being an adult was difficult and sometimes scary. I remember telling him I wasn't afraid, which brought to mind this scene from Star Wars:

Now I'm allegedly a full-fledged adult, doing adult things, and my father was right as usual. There are some real, live scary aspects to being an adult, and while I won't shy away from tackling any of them, it won't stop me from bitching about them in his nearly-defunct blog of mine. Allow me to itemize them:

1) Marriage. I love my wife, and she loves me, but man is it difficult (not impossible though) sometimes. Carol Burnett said to give birth feels like trying to pull your bottom lip over the remainder of your head. Marriage, at its best feels like unlimited orgasms. But at its worst? It is like pulling your top lip over your head.

2) My two year old son Nyles (pictured below)

I love the little guy with all my heart, but he's hell on wheels when he wants to be, which seems to be all the time. He wakes at 5:30am on the weekends, he touches things he shouldn't touch, he sticks his middle finger up(metaphorically of course) at the concept of potty training, he's obsessed with the movie Toy Story, and he does all these things while looking EXACTLY like me, which is some kind of cruel trick. And I haven't even mentioned his fickle eating habits, which result in my wife and I picking up food from the floor, that spent at least 30 seconds in his mouth. Very classy stuff.

3) My writing. As evidenced by the paucity of recent blog entries, I'm not writing with the amount of frequency as I used to and it bothers me. Also, my Wizards' writing production has fallen off a bit. This hasn't happened because I'm lazy or losing the desire, it just happens because life is taxing, and when I get free time, I want to relax, not write. That being said, read my latest article here.

Ok that's enough with the complaints. Besides, I'm sure other married people (like my wife) could come on here and put my little diatribe to shame. Being an adult is difficult, but that doesn't mean I'm not happy with my life. It just means when I'm not, I can blog about it--hopefully with more frequency.

Monday, December 30, 2013

1 - Please read this article on the last Wizards' game.

2 - Please listen to this song (featuring Eric Roberson) off of Robert Glasper's latest offering. The lyrics are depressing, but it's a good song, that R. Kelly needs to listen to:

3 - My Philadelphia Eagles are in the playoffs, and there's nothing you can do about it.

Thursday, December 26, 2013

Nyles Roman Mobley is now two years old. Two also represents the number of times I've blogged this year, so there is beautiful symmetry there. I know good and goddamn well I should let this blog finally die the slow death it has been dying, but I just cannot do it. So once again, I will attempt to conjure up the energy to get this train going again. In the meantime, you (by you I mean me) cannot go wrong with a birthday picture of young Nyles and his birthday cake.