60% Chance of scattered thunderstorms

That is what I told my brother, who just called and asked if I could look up the hour-by-hour forecast for Sandusky, Ohio. Sandusky, Ohio is where Cedar Point is. My brother is at Cedar Point. He informed me of his plans to drive out there this weekend one week ago yesterday. I gave him some pointers and told him I expected a trip report, pictures and a full writeup, especially on Maverick. Apparently they got to the park, walked on to Millennium Force and waited At home. I am not only not at Cedar Point, but I am at home in Palatine, sickly and broke as can be. Yeah, I have complained about being broke before, but in the 5+ years Nikki and I have been together…we have never actually been in the hole…at least not until this month. Ya see…having a baby is expensive. I don’t mean like having a baby in the house. Diapers and wipes are pricey, but we only have to purchase those once a week or two. When I say having a baby is expensive…I mean the physical act of pushing a living being out of your cooter is extremely stressful on the old pocketbook. So we are in need of a large sum of money to get caught up with all these medical bills this month and all the stress and fear and panic finally caught up with me yesterday.

My Grandparents (the only two I have left) drove up from Tennessee with the hopes of seeing their first great-grandchild for the first time this weekend. They are old and frail (as many grandparents are) and the drive takes a lot out of them. So much so that when they arrived Friday, my Mom said that my Grandma was not feeling well and was going back to the hotel catch up on her rest. I had agreed to bring the baby over for a family dinner on Saturday night as long as she (baby) was feeling well. Saturday was hectic as we had to give the baby a bath, both take showers ourselves and also wait for a Comcast technician come to replace our digital box in the bedroom (and they replaced it with some little piece of shit that it is impossible to find with the remote). Comcast showed up at 3:30 and was out right at 4. Dinner was at 5, so we had time as long as I showered quick. Before getting in I called by my parents’ place and informed my Mom that we would be there around dinner time, and she informed me that my Grandma was not going to be there. She was going to stay at the hotel because she was not feeling well and puking.

Great.

You see, we have gone to great lengths to not expose our child to sick people. Up until I caught whatever I caught on Friday night, this baby has been, in effect, quarantined from all ailing people. Now my Grandma, who has very little immune system to speak of, is vomitting and we are paranoid that my Grandpa and family are contaminated with whatever it is she might have. So here were are…all gussied up to go see my family who I maybe see once a year and who risked their own health to drive up here…and we can’t go. The roast and potatoes and glazed carrots and black eyed peas are on the table waiting for us…and I have to call and inform them that because there is a possibility that they are sick, I have to deprive them of what they came all this way for. It is the last thing in the entire world I wanted to do…and I couldn’t. It’s not the first time we had to back out of plans because the baby was sick or someone who was going to be around the baby was sick…but this was the worst. I felt cruel and barbaric. I still do. Despite the fact that everyone understood and agreed it was the right thing to do, I feel like a complete asshole. Like I pulled the rug out from under them for no good reason. Combine that no-win situation with our current money problems, with my sickness, with the fact that we have no food in our apartment and the stress of trying to determine if we can afford to buy a house once we get caught up and I just lost it.

Much to the befuddlement of my wife and baby, I spent about an hour or two weeping like a little girl. That’s what happens when things get to me. I don’t punch walls or hit the bottle…I curl up in a good, tight fetal position and sob. To each his own, I suppose. I am soft as a grape. I make no bones about it. I am not a very manly man. It doesn’t happen often (thankfully), but sometimes I just fucking lose it and it all comes out in the form of snot and tears. It is really a pathetic sight to behold, and it normally only manifests itself at more understandable and appropriate times, like funerals. Every once and a while, though, life catches up to me and kicks me swiftly in the nuts a couple hundred times, reducing me to a puddle of slobbery goo.

Eventually, things passed and I came back down to Earth. The guilt is still there, the money problems are still there and my stomach is grumbling for sausage, biscuits and gravy, but my body is in no mood for cooking, but at least I am not a fucking head case anymore. Still dealing with the pre and post nasal drip, but that is just a result from my fubar sinus problem and not because I am an emotional wreck for no good reason.

My Mom just called and said that Grandma is starting to feel better and they hope it is just something she ate. It sounds as though they may not be leaving until tomorrow now, which means there is still a chance they can meet their great-granddaughter.

Now I just need to win some goddamned money to pay these bills.

And to ride some roller coasters.