![]() |
Morning confessions, afternoon daydreams, and evening wind-downs. |
This is dedicated to my daughter, Azalea Paige Kraynak. You're half the cause of some of these entries, but that's why I love you. There's rarely a day that you don't surprise me with the things you do and say. I've changed since the start of this, of course I think that's to be expected - I'm not an overworked pessimist anymore. I'm and adequately worked, for the most part happy idealist who holds the occasional cynical view of someone whose done seen some @$*#. That said, these are the new and improved ramblings of a guy who lives a life that I find to be occasionally comical. |
It's a short one, but needs to be said. Our 1 year old daughter had a pretty bad case of constipation a couple days ago. She's been remarkably fussy because of it but has since started settling down. Then I realized leaving work this morning, the morning message from my wife was about poop. I was updated on her poop. Its unfathomable when you have a baby, how much conversation revolves around poop. Color, consistency, smell. It becomes a topic as common as the weather. Almost all subject matter in one form or another circles back to baby poop. I wonder if the baby even knows how much of the conversation is about something so stupid. We could talk about almost anything. Work, weather, politics, food, but no. It just doesn't offer the same mental stimulation as poop does. It's almost cave-man when you think about it. But we find humor in it, sadness, whatever elicits whatever emotion the baby might have felt at that time. Something so simple yet so complex. I really need something else to talk about. |