CRAPPY DAYS – and I’m not alone

We all have crappy days – I hope; I know I do. To ‘excuse’ my once in a while unholy crappiness, I decided a long time ago, that it’s like a natural safety-valve that holds back compressed anger, frustration, anxieties, insecurities, boredom, overall yackiness and other uncomfortable stuff. It’s like if I don’t periodically let some steam out (dark, nasty smelling clouds of smoke, actually), I would probably explode in a horrific, though colorful way. With that image in mind, you can understand why I don’t exactly embrace crappy days – a lot.
 

I hate people, who are crappy, as well as I dislike crappy people; I have a hard time accepting the occasional day of crappiness somebody is going through. It ruins my otherwise eternal (yeah, right) positive, happy and energetic attitude – and then I get crappy too; that’s the part I really hate.
 

I despise being in a crappy mood (‘crappy’ pronounced: ‘shitty’). It irritates me no end, as I for the most part have no bloody clue why I’m in that unstable stage of emotions – I really don’t know. I figure that with my intellect, life-experience and overall positive attitude concerning being somewhat well-balanced, I should be able to get out of it fast, no sweat. But I can’t. I desperately try to figure out the reason I’m off tilted, but for the most part, I can’t for the life of me find any reasons at all.
 

I have preached the use of the ‘negative-positive’ lists for ages and though I do practice what I preach, especially when I’m crappy, I find that even being such a lucky guy in all of life, I still have a hard time ‘crapping’ out, and that makes me even crappier… if possible.
 

Since we all visit Crappyland occasionally, let’s do the cop-out thing by looking for anybody or anything to blame for our day of crap, no matter how utterly pathetic that is. Oh hey, how about this one?

His name was Thomas Crapper, born in 1836 and died in 1910, in case you care. He was a plumber and the founder of Thomas Crapper & Co. in London. No, Dear Reader, Thomas did not invent the flushing toilet, but he did make it rather popular as he installed a lot of them to great relief for so many, even today. He also has his company name on a manhole near Westminster Abbey (a large church-thing…) that is somewhat a tourist attraction. Unfortunately I missed that when in London last May – oh crap… (Thanks, Tom).
 

So you get the connection – huh? Poor Thomas might not have appreciated this kind of fame, but we freely and blatantly blame him for at least being the namesake of our foul moods, shit that happens and those blah days we love to hate – sorry Thomas, really.
 

I try to stay away from using what we consider foul language – something I unfortunately have a hard time with – seriously. But I do not consider ‘crap’, ‘crappy’ or ‘crappiness’ part of that equation. To me any ‘crap’ is more so uttered with the greatest respect and in honor of Thomas & his flushing toilets.
 

During foul moods, I desperately try to keep it all within myself, trying not to affect my surroundings too much; I do not always succeed and for that I am utterly sorry. Being in the car on ‘crap-day’, I cannot find anybody who is not a jerk, bad driver, stupid, etc. Yes, I should probably not drive at all those days, but I do. I walk the dog and somebody smiles, wave and do the jolly ‘good morning’ thing. I throw them a pretend smile and think: ‘what the hell is YOUR problem’. Even my dog can feel the heat and gives the passer-by the ‘I’m sorry, he’s in such a crappy mood today’ look.
 

Tess, our wonder dog, is as sweet as a dog can be. She ‘swings’ with the mood in our home which for the most part is happy and fun. When I was in bed with a broken leg some years back, Tess was by my side constantly – being all worried. Our moods are picked up by her and she reacts accordingly. But when its ‘crappy-day-for-Peter’, she has a special hiding place she sneaks into at times; bless her lovely heart.
 

She is also a reason for me to ease up and try to get back to normal. The way she looks at me when I’m swearing away being crappy, is so sweet, innocent and concerned, that you have to be a real jerk not to acknowledge that she is very worried, hurting and disturbed. Then she'll lick my hand a lot (which I really don’t like, because I have seen how she cleans herself – duh…), snuggles up to me wherever I am and stays by my side like the formidable Velcro-Dog; just a true sweetheart (sigh) – and who wouldn’t give in to that?
 

I spend time by myself several days weekly; my choice, really. It’s not often I communicate with anybody other than Tess and Mindy (our cute cat) during those days, other than SMS’ing with a few friends, wife and children (adults, actually). At times I desperately try to machete my way through the dense jungle of crappiness, by grabbing the phone and call a good friend; that's another way to open the safety valve, to let some of the nasty crappy-steam escape – and for the most part, that works somewhat.
 

Another way to get back to the charming and delightful mood I normally expose (yeah, right) I play music really loud. Music always makes my moods turn more positive. When my wife returns home from work or from wherever, just her being near makes most of the crappiness go ‘poof’.
 

At times some of this doesn’t work, and I think that perhaps I don’t want it to work. I’m very confused in that area of being crappy. 'Get out of it’ is easy said, but at times really hard for me to do, no matter how much I want to be Happy & Charming Peter again; I might never figure it out.
 

At times I get depressed; not that I want to end my life or anything close to that, but a depression I cannot explain. When I was a boy and drifted into those moods, my mother for some excellent parental reason, dealt with it in a matter-of-fact way. She would ask me ‘why?’ and I would answer ‘I don’t know’… (of course in Danish…) My mother would then ask me to go into my room and come out when I felt better; so I did and it worked.
 
Today I find that my depressions quickly morph into crappy, and I’m fine with that, as it is somewhat easier for me to understand and deal with.
 

Kind of weird, but as it is not something that happens often, I’m certainly not concerned about all of this. My main issue is that I do not want any of my crappiness to interfere with the people I love and care for. I hate it when people are crappy, so why should anybody love and accept my crappiness, no matter how charming it is?

I truly believe that we all need to release the build up steam we collect from life’s daily challenges. I highly suggest accepting having crappy days at times, but then get it done with, and make sure that it doesn’t hurt anybody else and it’s all legal. But of course, if you find yourself in foul moods too often, it is time to seek help, to find out what causes it and then deal with it in a positive and constructive way, please.
 

Pretty much every time I use the term, ‘crap’, ‘crappy’ or ‘crappiness’ I do think of that poor plumber and his unfortunate legacy, so I send him a ‘sorry Thomas’; that in itself, does make me smile a bit, which helps me slowly move out of being in a foul mood – and then it’s time to say ‘thank you, Mr. Crapper', as I’m convinced he was a really nice guy (sigh)…

  

BABIES & KIDS – from dislike to love

I despised babies. From the foul odored poo-poo diapers and vomit, to how adults were constantly drooling and talking in weird voices anytime a baby was near. But the dislike was more so because babies took all the attention away from me. I successfully refused to be drawn in, never sat next to one, and certainly never touched one – ever, until I was about 41, seriously. But things can change, can’t they?

When my friends started to multiply, our relationships ended. I hated being around their slobbering babies, with the constant crying and the never-ending demands and more nasty smelling poop diapers – I mean, it was Yuk on the highest level; I was surely convinced from early adolescents, that there would absolutely not be babies in my future – at all. But wait, there’s more…

I fell in love with my wife the moment I saw her. I was 38 – she was 28. Early into our relationship, I (gently) understood that our future together would include children. Surprising myself, I slowly accepted this revelation. The timing must have been right, as especially my partner was perfect. So ‘Peter having babies’, started to rhyme – though I was still utterly stunned; my mother was as well, for the longest time.

Sixteen months later we were married and fourteen month into our marriage, we were ready to expand the world population. I more so needed to get ready, as I did not have a clue what to do during pregnancy, delivery and especially after the baby came out. So I read many books about babies and how to maintain them; we took Lamaze classes and I slowly became an ‘expert’ - I thought. But soon after the birth part, I found that nothing I had read or studied could prepare me for parenthood – nothing at all. It was very much a ‘learn on the job’ deal.

But I was as prepared as could be when the water broke and delivery started. It was a struggle convincing the baby to come out, as it had one arm over the head through the birth canal. But the three of us worked well together, and our first-born finally arrived. Yes, I was the ‘delivery coach’, and it was weirdly exhilarating.

I had never felt so euphoric on this level in my whole life. Holding this baby, feeling the warmth from his body, the tiny heartbeats, his breath, his skin and the way he looked around so curiously, is a feeling and emotion I still cannot explain. I found myself kissing him and telling him how much I (already) loved him. It was one of the most wonderful days of my life so far (besides marrying my wife). Just thinking about that whole process tears me up a bit – but don’t tell anybody, please.

It was decided to keep him in the nursery overnight for observation, while we, exhausted and excited new parents, retired to our hospital room.

I got up early the next morning to get our new son. On the way to the nursery, I smiled as I thought about how pathetically stupid and ignorant I had been in the past concerning babies. How could I have been so oblivious? I especially chuckled out loud about that thing how ‘all newborn babies look alike’. How silly was that? From the moment he was born I had neither blinked nor taken my eyes off him; I would of course be able to recognize him in a heartbeat. ‘All babies look alike?’  What utter nonsense.

The nursery had about 10 cribs occupied by new babies. I acknowledged the on-duty nurse and quickly scanned the room. There he was – our lovely new son. I eagerly crossed the floor and as I reached into the crib to pick him up, I heard the nurse smiling as she said: ‘Peter, he is over there - in the corner’. My face quickly changed to a deep red. I giggled in utter embarrassment as I walked over to the genuine baby Steiness; I even double-checked his name-tag. So they had been right after-all: ‘all babies do look alike’. Well, at least that morning they seemed to.

Even though I ‘theoretically’ felt prepared for parenthood, I soon found that I was not ‘hands-on’ prepared at all. But by ‘need to’ I learned quickly. Certain whimpers were for food, a slightly different whimper was for diaper change and my favorite whimper was ‘I need to nap with Dad’.

As I wanted to participate in all aspects of our son’s upbringing (though breastfeeding was unfortunately out of my league), I quit my day-job, became self-employed so I could work from home. This way I would look after the baby while my wife returned to work. Though working from home met some lean times, it was one of the best decisions we ever made. Being able to share the care of our son with my wife had him constantly with one of us, and most of the time, with both of us.

My world had shifted dramatically - a wonderful wife and now our beautiful and healthy son. Days and nights were filled with foul (!) diaper changes, feeding, burping, napping, baths, laundry, strolls in the park and lots of playtime. I immediately found an enormous satisfaction and joy being with him. Hugging him, kissing him and loving him, was such a privilege - a privilege I had never experienced before (except with my wife – duh…) This privilege doubled when we had our second son, a couple of years later.

My wife and I shared the parental responsibilities. The result of this early, positive and plenty shared parent involvement, is surely visible today. The relationship between the four of us is solid, respectful and loving. We know and acknowledge how fortunate we all are and we have never taken our little family for granted.

I used to despise babies as they smelled bad and took the attention away from me. Well, now I like babies (okay, for the most part) and children and not just my own. Children have such positive and exciting energy, and as long as we (adults) guide them correctly, they will succeed in whatever they pursue. They are academic sponges and they really want to learn; we just have to show them how, by making it all interesting, challenging and fun.

Look at their faces and look into their eyes – we see eagerness and a zest for life. All we have to do is supporting this positive attitude – and we can certainly all learn something from that as well – so go ahead, please.

For a few years I was fortunate to work with school children from ages 6 to 12. As a volunteer, I created a drama class and clocked in over 3,000 student hours. I wrote and directed four variety shows with eager involvement from the kids; it was an absolute blast.

I coached soccer for many years and the player-list reached over 1,300 youngsters from age 5 to 19 years old. I loved them all dearly, and as I eventually retired from drama-class and soccer, I do miss spending time with ‘the kids’ and their energy – but I have only superb memories.

From disliking children to have my own and even surrounded myself with so many other kids, was for me a dramatic, surprising, but wonderful turn-around. I am sure I have taught these youngsters some positive aspects of life, besides variety shows and soccer, but that will never compare with what they taught me about fun, love, compassion and respect through those years.

Being an involved parent by taking the time and making an effort with our children, any children, actually, gives all of us tremendous rewards. By acknowledging and live by, that every day is a new experience for us as parents as well as it is for our children, we are heading in the right direction. Working together using fun, love, compassion and respect, will only make our days together better and better. I know – I learned ‘on the job’. And ‘yes’ I am still utterly surprised - seriously... Poop diapers and all…