Bella Karolyi would be proud.

21 months now and she's down summersaults. She actually did one a few months ago, but lately wouldn't do another one without asking for help. It was pretty pathetic, she would put her head on the ground and start to tip over, but because her leg/head ratio is still that of a baby, it's hard to push over that head and roll onto the back. She can do it, but I'm constantly worried about her little neck snapping while she's balanced like a break dancer on her head.

One a slightly more somber note, I've decided to quit smoking (or at least try.) I was making dinner with Cheryl a few days ago and a sharp pain hit me somewhere below my rib cage. No radiated pain down the left arm, no shortness of breath, no nausea. It just hurt and wore me out. Now I'm freaked out about every little pain I have thinking it's going to be the last one. It's my biggest fear in life currently, that I won't be around for Rowan as she grows older. I'm sure there's a line when you have to say, "Ok, I don't need to be around for her anymore" like when they're 20 or so, maybe younger. But these next 15 years or so, I really want to be there. REALLY! The fact that I might not be because of a freak car wreck or heart attack or electrical mishap shakes my core to the foundation.




I'm sure to other parents this comes as no surprise, you want to be there for your kids as long as you can and are able to, but, you don't want them to die before you, making your duty 100% complete. You were there as long as they needed you, period. They don't need you anymore. Right now, if I were to kick off, I don't think Rowan would remember me or know I was gone. She's a bright kid, brighter than others I'm sure, but even still, she's not 2 yet. I don't remember what I was doing around that age. If one of my parents were removed from my life, I don't know that I'd have many memories of them. I don't want her to not know who I am, and I don't want to miss her growing up.


The thing that frightens me most is that it may be too late. Smoking for a good many years, not eating really well for those same years. I have more caffeine in my blood that white blood cells. Then throw in concerns about random brain hemorrhaging and you've got a perfect reason for acid reflux drug research. I'll worry about stupid shit like that until I've actually given myself whatever I'm worrying about. For such a "let it go" kinda guy, I'm a horrible hypochondriac. Now it's no longer that I think I'm going to die, it's that I really have a reason to live.

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