Who knew that you’d learn a new cuss word after 31.6 years of living. I felt growing up in public schools taught me all I needed to know in cuss words for life. But then my wife came along and offered her uterus for rental. Now I wonder if hitting that with the sole purpose of becoming a parent was well thought-out.

The F word I refer to does not rhyme with muck. Rather, it rhymes with live. Hmm. That doesn’t translate well on paper. Do I mean “live” as in life or as in not recorded? So yea, the F word of my life is five.

My body is now set to wake up at Five AM in the morning everyday. Mondays. Saturdays. Doesn’t matter. This kid has me waking up to either console her back to sleep for another hour or I’m up doing chores before she does decide to wake up for the 5AM hour. If I decide to run, it has to be during this hour so as to ensure I am not interfering with prep time for the babysitter.

F’in five AM. It’s such an odd hour to start your day. If I do need to take care of the kid so as to allow Mommy Ranman an extra hour of sleep, it takes me the entire hour to stop seeing our kid with a haze:


Look at her. Supporting mommy and daddy’s favorite teams. I think. I can’t tell. It’s 5 o’clock in the morning. Why does she look like she’s in an A-HA Take on Me/em> video?