“I don’t love Mommy anymore, I love you,” son stated as we rode Wayne’s Train at a carnival near the ’05. What seems like a hurtful statement at first didn’t hurt wife’s feelings at all when I told her. Typically, it is the other way around and I get frustrated pretty easily considering the amount of time I spend with him (and I guess, blog about him). He is a Wesley Crusher type individual destined for greatness at Starfleet Academy (which, in truth, Wesley never got) or he is the MegaMind who’ll go mano y mano with a yet-unnamed superhero countless times. The jury’s still out.
Speaking of Wesley Crusher…Wil Wheaton, the actor who portrayed him in Star Trek: The Next Generation has 1.5million followers on twitter. I know this because nerd-wife showed me a recent tweet of his where he lambasts Grant Imahara’s latest robotics venture (see Mythbusters). See, nerd-wife doesn’t admit her lust for everything science fiction; I see her sit on the couch as the next episode of The Big Bang Theory alludes to a minute detail of a comic book hero where wife has uncanny ability to ferret out its meaning. Even during scifi B-movies, I see her tilt her head around her iPhone to catch the scene.
In the last four days, I have focused on spending quality time to myself during exercise. I think son now believes gym club is his second home. To my defense, they have better stuff for him to play on. They have a play-area style maze contraption like at fast food restaurants, they have a dozen iMac’s and they have a mini-basketball court…but he doesn’t like basketball. He told me he likes to throw the balls..at kids…at their heads (niiiice!) Anyway my self-flagellation has arisen to new levels as I swam 3 miles, road 20 miles, and ran 8 miles. This is all to prepare for a sprint distance triathlon that is comprised of .25mile swim, 12mile bike, 3.1mile run. Once again, OCD has kicked in and I have monocular focus on my hobby.
I don’t have hobbies, really…I have obsessions and competitions. If I am interested in it, I lose sight of all other responsibilities to pursue the activity to the point of self-destruction. Now, if someone else I know is also working toward the same goal, instead of sharing ideas and working together, I make it my sole purpose in life to crush their will until I prove I can do it better, faster, longer. For empirical data on this, please send a request for the various medical bills incurred during my twelve years of rugby (broken jaw, concussion, broken thumb, broken back, broken nose). Wife and I received a mailer that stated how organic the company was attempting to become. Wife laughed, and said she was 100% natural and organic (i.e. made of carbon). She didn’t get it when I stated, “I’m not…” but after a second passed, she realized I was more like Wolverine from the X-men. Not adamantium, but at least titanium.
As I said before, my life has centered around the bathroom and various bodily movements of my children since 2002, however, son has made it his goal to govern the bathroom like a despotic ruler. He says who can enter, doesn’t allow anyone to lock the door (or bangs on it senselessly until unlocked) and mandates where I must stand if I am to help him go. Sometimes I get to be in the room, but I have to close my eyes. Yes, I do see a future super hero in the making, just don’t ask me what his super powers are.