"Suburban Home"

It took us three weeks to move in — how else to explain the serious lack of writing up in here — but we're officially back in the friendly confines of suburban Atlanta.

Reunited and it feels so good.

After being back for just a couple of days, I realized that things were going to be indellibly different this year when Stacey and I took a trip to the grocery story for some essentials...you know, deodorant, cereal, poison-tipped darts. On this trip we saw no less than three dads flying solo with their kids. Maybe the divorce rate is higher here than in backwoods South Carolina, but I'm tempted to think I may have witnessed an actual stay-at-home dad or three in the wild. Stacey was visibly tempted to ask each of these guy's their 'story,' but with me at her side, her often-uncontrollable flirtatious nature was being held gingerly in check.

Then, two weeks ago when Connor and I visited our first playground since moving back, I ran into more dads spending time with their kids. What gives? Whereas I once felt like the odd man out, I'm now just one of the herd, and I'm receiving far fewer second- and third-glances than before.

I think it's time Connor got some tattoos, or a mohawk...or both.

"Communication Breakdown"

Baby monitors are the best/worst thing to happen to child-rearing since the discovery (probably by my mom) that spatulas make very good ass-whuppers.

On one hand, immediately hearing your child crying in the middle of the night can be helpful, because you can diffuse any huge meltdowns before they spiral out of control, thus keeping everyone awake for several hours.

But, on the other hand, it's probably just a matter of time until you get caught badmouthing someone while forgetting that you're in a room that is 'bugged.'

Unless someone is being too polite to burst my bubble, I haven't been busted yet, but it's not for lack of trying. I've thought on several occasions that I'd muttered something less than flattering with someone unintentionally listening in on a receiver unit that was inadvertantly left on in another room.

But, the baby monitor also carries with it the threat of disseminating too much information.

For example, yesterday morning, I could swear I heard Connor say "ADHD," in his bedroom and then fall back asleep.

I wish I were kidding.

"Guess Who's Back?"

Don't call it a comeback...I've just been waiting for our Internet connection to get straightened out in our new place. Today, after a week of endless wrangling with BellSouth, we're finally good to go. Lucky you.

Before moving on to new stuff, I should probably recap the events of the last week-and-a-half...

After picking up the U-Haul truck at a very sketchy pawn shop, Stacey and I proceeded to load it with our possessions, and one very large souvenir from our stay in the country.


I'm no packing expert, but I think we may have loaded too much stuff toward the front of the truck.

With everything loaded up we were ready to hit the road.

Perhaps "ready" isn't a strong enough word. Don't get me wrong, I had a fun year, but living in the woods is for suckers. I think we left a little bit of tire tread behind in our haste to get out of Dodge.

The trip to our new home was pretty much a straight shot down the interstate, but we did have a few adventures.

Something told me we were home...

It's good to be back.

"Begin the Begin"

For those of you who are regular visitors here, you may have noticed a minor disturbance in the force as I did not update my blog on Thursday, as is mandated per my own self-enforced schedule.

The grand experiment is now over. Although I'm not returning to a 9-to-5 just yet, my days of being alone with Connor every single day is officially over for now. On Thursday and Friday, Stacey and I finally moved back to Atlanta after six years away, and are beginning a new chapter in our life together.

For the next year (and perhaps infinitely longer since we're sick of moving our junk from one address to another) we will be living with Stacey's parents. As far as living with in-laws, the situation is abslolutely fabulous. We have an entire floor of the house to ourselves, with digital cable TV, an exercise room and free parking.

But, this situation also means that we're closer to both of our families, which means that I'm negotiating my schedule with everyone who is eager to take Connor off of my hands. I will probably work several days a month at my former full-time job (warehouse/clerical type stuff) while scaring up more freelance work as well. Also, Connor is beginning a preschool/daycare program that will occupy him for two mornings a week.

I'll still be at home with Connor, just not every day, thus bringing to an end my year of being his primary caregiver during the week. It's a role I am shedding reluctantly, but knowing full well that he'd probably rather see someone different every day anyway.

In the spirit of my adjusted role as a part-time stay-at-home-dad, I have been wrestling with what to do with this space. Initially, I only wanted to do this for a year, just to see if I could. I've done that, but I'm hesitant to let it go, because writing here is fun for me — ie. I have full editorial control, resulting in the nauseating stories and pictures you've been enduring these past 12 months. Thanks for sticking around.

I considered abandoning this site in favor of an anonymous blogging identity so I could talk openly about living with Stacey's parents, but since they are aren't exactly the typical overbearing in-laws, I probably couldn't say anything I can't say to them in person.

Since I'm not going to be with Connor every day, I won't be writing here every day. I have no schedule for entries, and will probably expand my subject matter to include other things happening in my life as well.

But don't worry; the pictures and stories will still be every bit as nauseating.

"In The Meantime and In Between Time"

The end is finally here at last, though it is hard to believe it's been a year already. When we got here last August, it was hot as hell outside, Connor was hard to handle at times, and I was unsure of what the coming year would hold.

What a difference a year makes....uh, nevermind. Seems not much has changed, just our address.

At the moment, Stacey and I are stranded amidst an ever deepening sea of boxes, waiting as patiently as we can until we pick up the moving truck tomorrow morning. Connor has already been escorted out of town by a very willing grandmother, leaving us here alone to buckle down, gear up and get out.

By the way, for all you ATL folk, Connor is now offially in town, so feel free to start scheduling your visits. We all know you couldn't care less whether we ever come or not. We've accepted our new role in life as Connor's parents. As Connor says to Murphy when it's thundering: "It's no big deal."

Although our situation this year was far from perfect, it was ideal in a lot of ways; Our rent was cheap, we lived in a furnished house on the lake, we were a hell of a lot closer to family and friends than we were in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, I got to stay home with Connor, and Stacey finally earned that damn PhD she's been chasing for what seems like an eternity. P.S. You are all now required to call her "Dr." at all times — well, at least I have to.

Even though I complained a lot about our reclusive whitey neighbors, the massive amount of labor required for the smallest of tasks out here, our lack of funds, the constant invasions of the insect variety, and our reclusive whitey neighbors (sorry, it bears repeating), I will absolutely remember this 12-month stretch with only the fondest of memories.

Being able to spend nearly every waking moment with my son made this experience, warts and all, the best year of my life, and I say that with all the cheesiness and sincerity I can muster.

"The Audience Is Listening"

Every summer, Regal Theaters hosts a free PG- or G-rated movie for kids on Tuesday and Wednesday mornings. I didn't find about this well-kept secret until just recently and hadn't had an opportunity to try it out until today.

Judging by Connor's behavior, though, it's just as well.

We arrived early enough to get a decent seat (25 minutes before showtime) becase I correctly assumed that the daycare kids would be out in full force. But, since the theater shows two films (today's selections were Willy Wonka and March of the Penguins, most of the rambunctious older kids were in the former, while we camped out in the theater screening the documentary with kids a bit closer to Connor's age, as well as a few fixed income elderly couples who had snuck in, sans grandkids.

Although Morgan Freeman is credited as the narrator in March of the Penguins, Connor apparently felt that Mr. Freeman's storytelling capabilities left much to be desired.

As soon as the film started, Connor began his own narration, convinced that everyone around him needed an extra audio guide to what was happening on screen.

"Where are the penguins?...There they are!...They are walking!...There's the moon!...That penguin fell down!...He's being silly!...It's snowing!...I want some juice!...Where is that penguin going?...Those penguins are snuggling!...That penguin is sleeping!...HE'S AWAKE!!!...When are Mater and McQueen coming out?...I gotta do a pooper!...In my diaper!...I wanna go home!...That boy is looking at me!...

We made it about 30 or 40 minutes in before I decided to spare the other patrons Connor's incessant babble and escorted Mr. Motor Mouth out of the theater – before an usher could do it for us.