Red Mosquito

tree_ wrote:I am very much looking forward to my 5 month old consistently sleeping throughout the night. God damn.

Rangi Guy wrote:If someone had told me 6 years ago that the most common phrase out my mouth would be 'Do you need to go toilet?' I would have laughed at them, but here we are

spike wrote:You’ll probably end up adopting this kid.

washing machine wrote:

spike wrote:You’ll probably end up adopting this kid.

I'm not really sure how far his support system goes, but I know he has one.

Believe me, the thought it would go that way did cross my mind, but that's just the way I think. When a weird situation comes up, I see wildest possible outcomes and work my way back towards reality. The reality here is that this dad was just in a big bind and trusted us to help because we have a kid too and we chit chat with him on the porch from time to time.

It was enlightening to take care of this kid, even for a few hours. All these memories from early pandemic fatherhood came back. I don't think I'll ever be able to separate the fog of new fatherhood from the fog of spring 2020. Remembering how to do basic things for a human being who can barely walk was kind of emotional and that surprised me.

spike wrote:

washing machine wrote: it was enlightening to take care of this kid, even for a few hours. All these memories from early pandemic fatherhood came back. I don't think I'll ever be able to separate the fog of new fatherhood from the fog of spring 2020. Remembering how to do basic things for a human being who can barely walk was kind of emotional and that surprised me.

I’m with you on those two fogs remaining as one.

washing machine wrote:

spike wrote:

washing machine wrote: it was enlightening to take care of this kid, even for a few hours. All these memories from early pandemic fatherhood came back. I don't think I'll ever be able to separate the fog of new fatherhood from the fog of spring 2020. Remembering how to do basic things for a human being who can barely walk was kind of emotional and that surprised me.

I’m with you on those two fogs remaining as one.

Do you have any music that really resonates with you from that time? For me, it's Wilco's Ode to Joy, which came out about a week after my son's birth. It's the foggiest sounding Wilco record, but the fog was soft like a pillow in those foggiest of times, as you can probably recall.

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

tragabigzanda wrote:

Rangi Guy wrote:So my 18 year old step-son was having a conversation with his mum and she asked what his plans are for next year. He's currently taking a gap year and working at a supermarket in the city. He told her that he's going to be an infuencer.....and something, something about being an entrepreneur


Where did we go so wrong?

Literally 1/3 my male freshmen business students