Cannabalistic Humanoid Urban Dwellers, Mass shootings, and a Home birth

     I’ve committed myself to keeping up this blog and streadily write which has always been good for my soul. But I’ve also been stuck, you see I live in Kalamazoo. You probably forgot about Kalamazoo except that we were celery city at one point, but we live just blocks from where the Uber shooter, who in between picking up fares, drove around, shot and killed people, picked up more fares, shot people, was arrested blocks from my house. My son and I were out that night during the time his heinous activity took place but we were thankfully completely unaware of the horror transpiring. My eight month pregnant wife was at home unaware as well thankfully. Another father and son on an outing were shot and killed that night shopping for a car. I imagine the dad breaking down the extent of his knowledge from years of buying cars, what to lookout for, but the son only saw sweet rims and the moon roof with a kick ass stereo. I hope they died quickly and didn’t …

I can’t finish that sentence.

     Other people from the Zoo have blogged about it better than I could and I want to write about something funny and then something about love. First I do want to say one thing about the shooting. Just days before, my friend Gioia Albano, an artist whose theme is motherhood and mothers love, families love, children, love, posted a piece she’d done entitled “always a goodnight kiss”. 

     I try to kiss my family and say I love you, every time I leave my wife or children to run an errand, because who knows. Maybe an Uber driver will go on a shooting spree while you are out buying Yugioh cards on a date night with your boy.

Kiss your children goodnight.

     So the something funny involves cannibalistic humanoid urban dwellers (we live in an urban area), and the love involves the homebirth of our fourth child, third at home, and the incredible experience it was.

     So, this one time, when we first moved to Kalamazoo and were still childless partiers, my wife and I and several new girl friends of  hers planned to visit a tattoo artist on a Saturday 10a when she had walk in hours. We were the first there, waiting for her at the door and we stayed all day until after 11p. Later we realized the shedding birds kept in her shop were not sanitary at all, and we didn’t go back.

     Awhile later my wife found a swollen lymph node and we went to the doctor who decided we should remove it. He did and told us the node was swollen from an allergic reaction to the ink the artist used and nothing life alteringly bad, so that was awesome.

During the procedure I thought someone was going by with some taco bell, then I thought they must be eating it right outside the room it smelled so good. Then my wife said “do you smell taco bell?”

I do I said.

“Lets get some after” she said.

Okay I said, as it was lunch time.

     The Dr. continued the procedure and without looking up said that’s your flesh, I’m cauterizing it now. We were shocked and disgusted. How could we love the smell of human flesh on the barbie?Were we doomed to become wendigo’s?

     After the procedure, as we walked out we continued to express our shock at our enjoyment delicious aroma of Annie’s cooking thigh meat (is human thigh meat white, or dark?). She was tired and needed to rest so we headed home (where we took an uninterrupted nap with each other and no one kicking us in uncomfortable body zones repeatedly, or putting their tiny little feet in my pants because it's warm.). Before the nap however I realized we needed to eat and just then I saw a Taco Bell and quickly cut over to the right from the left lane so I could turn into its drive and go through the drive through.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!!” my wife exclaimed thoroughly disgusted shocked and expressing a little trepidation.

I'm getting some lunch I said. I’m hungry.

“Okay, me too, “ she responded, “I’ll take a beef burrito.”

  

   Tune in next week when I talk about our fourth baby’s arrival via our third homebirth and the awesomely incredible addition to our Mob, little girl Mairead Lenore. 17.5 hours of labor, 6.5 looonnnng active, only two weeks after Annie fell, got a concussion and sent the baby breech.

Mairead was born in the caul and came out kind of sideways. It was a fierce and awe inspiring event to see my wife work so hard to deliver our little angel.

That time I was feloniously assaulted

I have anger issues. I’m a yeller. I hate how angry I get and so quickly now. I hate the tears I see well up when I go from mad to rageful. 

I hate being angry.

     Last summer I was diagnosed with PTSD stemming from the attack I describe below that took place August 16^th, the day of my 25^th high school reunion 2014, in front of my house. Since then I’ve been exploring why I am so angry and full of rage when I realized, while I have achieved rage status levels of anger in the months following the beating I took, it hasn’t been just since the attack. 

All my life I've had anger.

And I’ve come to the conclusion I want to explore where my anger comes from starting with my circumcision. I’m a little scared of where I’m going, and what may come out. Some of it may sound fantastic (and it is), I will face my fear, and you’re welcome to come along.

“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”

All my life I've had anger.

For years I repeated the line "fear is the mind killer" when I wanted to inspire myself or others not to quit something or even try because of fear. I realized I've been focusing on the wrong line and doing so may have actually hurt me in a Dr. Wayne Dwyer kind of way, repeating it, reinforcing my fear rather than abating it. So I've shifted lines and the repetition focus will now be, " I MUST NOT FEAR" 

All my life I've had anger.


     

This morning after coming home from dropping off the kids at school (not the pool)  I shut off the old family wagon and opened the sliding door to get my birthday boy out of the car. As I leaned in to get Cazzies belt undone, I saw two white males approximately 20 years of age and homeless looking crossing the church parking lot adjacent to our house where I was parked. Two officers of the law were walking behind them swiftly as if trying to close the gap, but not running. Yet. 

I pulled back out of the van, left Caz buckled in his seat facing forward unable to see, and closed the sliding door. I shut my door, locked the van and stood outside to observe. The police caught up to the duo and asked something. One stopped and the other kept moving clearly not wanting to interact with the police. I heard the fella who turned to the police respond "I just live right there." He gestured to the apartment a crack whore lived in last summer (I say this because he smoked crack and was a prostitue) and the police left them alone, turned and walked back to their vehicle. The last time I saw the police interact with new neighbors as soon as I knew they lived there, this happened ( I'm home all the time and due to the PTSD I'm hyper vigilant, observant, and I watch the comings and goings at all times. Sometimes even walking the streets in the am. I didn't even see them move in, meaning they don't have a lot of belongings, which in the 10 years I've lived across from these two homes has been a pretty strong indicator of trouble.)

I will refer to this often on my journey as "THE ATTACK". I decided to finish this and get it out there. I MUST NOT FEAR.

All my life I've had anger.

What follows is my post on Facebook after everything had settled for a bit. I have left it as is, unedited. Please forgive the errors.

HERE IS THE LATEST NEWS FLASH FROM THE WEEKEND!!!!! 

My swollen face and head 

Yes, a new neighbor has brought an influx of felons. Two being arrested in two nights because of me. This morning there were fifteen on the porch drunk at 11:00 blaring hateful, racist, rap/hip-hop music (which I listen to on occasion). I walked across the street, introduced myself and calmly told them if my kids are out and they didn't turn it down I'd call the police. Yada, yada, radio is turned down I walk away. More talking behind me directed towards me so I turned around and said "what?" yada, yada, yada he pulled out a pocket knife opened it dropped it to his side and advanced towards me. 

The hand that blocks the knife gets cut

Years of rage about not being able to let my children play outside of our house, ever (last week a nine year old who was petting our new puppy punched my three year old in the face because she wanted to pet her as well) surged and took me to a level of rage I've never experienced. 

Small cut on my ankle

So as he stepped up to the curb towards me I sprung at him. I'm 250 and people are often surprised with my swiftness, I've lost seventy lbs and this time surprised myself this time moving faster than I had in years towards him filled with fury. I stunned him with my rush reached around the side and back of his head with my left arm choking him while I grabbed his wrist and bent it behind his back. I let go of his neck and reached over putting the knife forearm into a key lock stepped back applied pressure and yada yada the pavement was his enemy. 

no caption needed.

Then the fifteen people rushed me I got kicked three times by some large boot in the eye, back of the head, and behind one ear. [Editor's note, he cut my hand and foot as he came at me.]

But I never let go of the knife wrist and now it was time to fire and maneuver so I smashed his hand into the street he dropped the knife and I swept it away J.T. Kirk style.

Then I introduced his head to W Cedar St as forcefully as I could while at the same time fortuitously the other tenant and a friend came out and helped clear some people as I moved to a less populated area in my driveway. Annie De came out hearing the commotion and I told her to call nine one one and as she did so I grabbed my FUBAR to go finish the job. Annie thought better told me Black Widow style to put it down so I did. 

My level of fury had over come my rationale and if my Sweet hadn't been there... 

The police actually got here quite quickly for the numerous times I call every week from the guy across the street peeing in front of my kids, the fight across the street, the fight across the street I was in both resulted in felony arrests because both had warrants. These people JUST MOVED IN AND WHO THE HELL ARE THESE PEOPLE INVITING TO HANG AROUND???!!! So once they were on scene I slowly burbled down and noticed I'd been sliced across two knuckles on one hand and one knuckle on the other as well as two cuts on one leg. They could all use a stitch or two in my estimation, plus I'm pretty sure I have a concussion along with my barely noticeable severe neck pain. 

Last year there was a stabbing in front of that house and a murder down the street. This year the guy not taking his meds has walked into multiple homes, urinated in front of my kids, starred at my wife and stood rocking in our driveway scarring her, preventing her from coming home because she's afraid finally got arrested for masturbating on a neighbors porch! He was on the street again by our house in two days. The dog fighting/training whatever it is that I put flyers up with a friend about the neighborhood being on to them. Someone was seen following the flyers going up and taking them down and it has caused a large amount of excess stress for Sweetums and myself for just about the entire summer. Oh! Oh! I can't forget the house that was dealing pills for ages finally got cleared up and was promptly filled with people the entire street knew were making meth. That house was just condemned on my street. Hooray I guess?

My kids can't go barefoot anywhere because there is glass all over the sidewalks everywhere and there is so much dog shit in every yard you can't not stop in it. Also I've found two heroin needles in the grass around our house. One in the new community garden down the street. A year ago I'd organized a playgroup with lots of kids both Felix and Eliza's age which is very hard for us to do. It's usually Felix's friends or Eliza's not both. During the play date I found a heroin needle in the grass and called the police to come and get it. No one came back.

I love living in the city and Vine is getting better and better every day and headed our way one day but my kids and my wife aren't safe now and I don't know what will happen the next time they're threatened.

Annie thinks Eliza saw me be caused she was huddled back in a corner inside the door as far back as she could get. And this is after last nights trauma Jose that kept her up till one am. I just don't know if I can go on waiting for this neighborhood to be what it's going to be and forgo my families safety. I think I have a concussion but it was good to see everyone. The class of 89's women are stunning and even Mr Perfect's company was pleasant. 

Left handed compliment?

    

     I was the site supervisor for a program called Building Blocks. The purpose of which is to help build stronger neighborhoods by building stronger neighbor connections. After several meetings and planning sessions with the participating residents, it was time for work and my son came along on our first work day just before lunch to see what's all the hubbub, bub. 
     We walked down the street with one participating resident after lunch who was very kind and sweet and possessed a shiny outlook at life. As we watched my son bounce along ahead of us, pointing at all the stuff everywhere (a constant stream of conscious speak at that age for him) she turned and said to me (she'd sat at the picnic table with us and had lunch sitting next to my son observing him, impressed with his ability to communicate apparently)  "He is very well spoken. Is his mother a teacher?"



     Mind you she'd only met me and must have assumed his ability to communicate so eloquently did NOT come from me, and could only be explained by his mothers career.

SMOKEBOMB!!!!

Mothra Attacks

The Wendt's Family Bed

   I remember it all wrong about the manner in which we embraced co-sleeping when our first baby was born, but as per usual as a new parent I was a little bit sleep deprived. We both were. My son would not sleep if we laid him down in a crib. At. All. Someone had to be holding him and moving constantly. At that time we didn’t know the blissful joy of baby wearing and how good it is for mom, dad, AND baby. So it’d been days since we’d been home from the hospital (we were lucky enough, considering the number of hospital births that cascade as soon as the heart monitor is put on and end up in a C-Section, and had a healthy baby boy, no major interventions, not drug free) so we were sleep deprived to a level that surpassed the friendly introduction I received to USMC boot camp at MCRD San Diego. It had been especially difficult on my wife as nursing was much harder than I realized and Felix wanted it all the time.

 {Side note: Later after Felix had been nursing for 6 months our pediatrician told us he was only nursing for comfort at that point and Annie could wean him. First of all: shut up. Secondly the science doesn’t support that statement, you should know that, you’re a Doctor. And thirdly, SO WHAT IF SHE COMFORTS OUR BABY HERSELF INSTEAD OF PUTTING HIM IN A CRIB WITH A NOOK.}

Nursing Caz beachside, two years old. For COMFORT, and a whole lot more

     Any who, back to our story. I thought it was noon in the middle of the day when my wife was on the phone with someone from la leche and that saint said to her “You can sleep and nurse him in bed if you want and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise”. I use quotations but really as I said, I was sleep deprived and Annie says I have it all wrong so… After that we got much more sleep and nursing became easier. Everyone was comfortable, cozy, and content. As it’s meant to be from the days of the cave. It was so incredible all of us in bed together I hoped I’d be able to get maybe two years at best of my son co-sleeping with us.

     Here we are 8 years later and we still co-sleep. Often if someone feels cramped now that there are 5 of us and only a king size bed. Sometimes we separate from main base and my oldest and I adjourn to a full size. Sometimes I’ve been “lucky” enough to have all three want to sleep with me in the full and sadly, mama is all alone in the king. By herself.

South Haven

The Muffin Man

     This tale of comedy and woe takes place in one of those evenings where we were all in the king after an extremely hot day in the gorgeous tourist town of South Haven, (#puremichigan) on Lake Michigan’s Coast not too far from an infamous Capone hideout.  

Pippit!!??

Our Master Bedroom (calling it that makes it sound fancy, it’s the biggest room in an eleventyone year old house on the second floor and to put it in perspective the Master Bedrooms walk in closet is 19.5” x 72”. Things were cramped and we were all exhausted from a long joyful day at Lake Michigan.

Baths had been taken, teeth were being brushed, pajamas on. No books tonight we were so tired once lights went out we’d all be out.

We're gonna need a bigger boat

     While the kids were in the bathroom finishing up brushing their teeth and everything was going to happen, regenerating, relaxing, regular uninterrupted sleep, my wife and I were already in the covers (the MB has an in room portable AC and I like to sleep in an ice room under a bazillion blankets). Slumber at this point was more enticing than the possibility of sex nights that seldomly made the rotation, (except of course for our three year mating ritual).

Who's blue balls are these?

 and I was passing out when a GIANT moth flew in the room from somewhere, of course it flew up into the ceiling fan light and was trapped inside the glass.

     I begrudgingly got up out of bed and began to try and fish it out so I could catch and release it (in our house, that’s what the children understand happens when indoor bugs are caught up in a piece of toilet paper and goes to the “window “ (trashcan or toilet). I had no luck even though it was huge it managed to escape my meathooks which had trouble fitting in globe.

During the teeth brushing the kids came in and saw my engagement with Mothra and heard the deep base of his buzzing, saw the giant shadow of his girth and instinctively ran screaming . I exclaimed I was getting it out and taking it to the window. FINISH BRUSHING YOUR TEETH I immediately bellowed in a funny drill instructor tone to distract them from the terror that is Mothra.

     So, I began to unscrew the globe to get it out because I KNEW it would easily fly out as soon as the light was off.  My beloved said not to mess with it, it wouldn’t be a problem and I was going to wake up our youngest (who had already fallen asleep and wouldn’t have woken up if he was sprayed with ice water), if I continued to proceed. A mini contest of wills engaged about continuing and getting the moth out when I reiterated it would get out as SOON as lights were out. I saw what was going to happen clear as day in my head, but didn’t want to dig my feet in and I angrily hissed through my teeth concedingly “fine!!! When I do turn out the lights and it does come out I hope it flies right into your mouth and you swallow it!” I said spitefully, exhaustedly and utterly defeated.

   Mothra finally tired just as I laid down and ceased his infernal buzzing about. The kids came in and I reassured them it was 100% out of the room and we were safe in a manner my wife said sounded just like Jack Black and a used car salesman. I was so close to slumber. I didn’t care and I wanted to turn out the lights so Mothra would fly into my beloved wife’s mouth and I’d be right!!!!

So lights went out. All was quiet. Only the sounds of water washing onto the beach emanating from our sleepy sound generating alarm clock. I eagerly waited for Mothra to fly into my wifes mouth tingling with the excitement of a kid in bed on Christmas eve.

BOOOOOM. BUZZZZ> GULLLLLLLPPPPP> COUGH> GAGGING>

Exactly as I predicted the moth came out as soon as the light was off and flew into a mouth.

My mouth.


The Wendt Family Bed
This painting of us co-sleeping was inspired by a photo I shared on FB and my dear friend Gioia Albano was inspired to paint. Of course they'd all rolled over and the dad was on the floor. And as all good fathers should, I documented with photographs. Gigia was kind enough to paint me in, and with much more real estate than I am accustomed to having.

"Boys, you can break.You find out how much they can take": The Attack

Hi my name is Tom.

(hi tom.)

I am a SAHD. Three beautiful angels. A girl and two boys, not in that order but all intact with another little on the way.

I have anger issues.

I yell.

I’m a yeller. It’s what I do.

Last summer I was diagnosed with PTSD stemming from an attack I describe below that took place August 16^th, 2014, the day of my 25^th high school reunion, in front of my house, and in front of my children. At 11:30 am.

What follows is the FB post I made two days after the beating once the cobwebs began to clear from my concussion.

HERE IS THE LATEST NEWS FLASH FROM THE WEEKEND!!!!! Yes, a new neighbor has brought an influx of felons. Two being arrested in two nights because of me. This morning there were fifteen on the porch drunk at 11:00 blaring hateful, racist, rap/hip-hop music (which I listen to on occasion). I walked across the street, introduced myself and calmly told them if my kids are out and they didn't turn it down I'd call the police. Yada, yada, radio is turned down I walk away. More talking behind me directed towards me so I turned around and said "what?" yada, yada, yada he pulled out a pocket knife opened it dropped it to his side and advanced towards me. Years of rage about not being able to let my children play outside of our house, ever (last week a nine year old who was petting our new puppy punched my three year old in the face because she wanted to pet her as well) surged and took me to a level of rage I've never experienced. So as he stepped up to the curb towards me I sprung at him. I'm 250 and people are often surprised with my swiftness, I've lost seventy lbs and was surprised myself this time moving faster than I had in years towards him filled with fury. I stunned him with my rush reached around the side and back of his head with my left arm choking him while I grabbed his wrist and bent it behind his back. I let go of his neck and reached over putting the knife forearm into a key lock stepped back applied pressure and yada yada the pavement was his enemy. Then the fifteen people rushed me I got kicked three times by some large boot in the eye, back of the head, and behind one ear. But I never let go of the knife wrist and now it was time to fire and maneuver so I smashed his hand into the street he dropped the knife and I swept it away J.T. Kirk style. Then I introduced his head to W Cedar St as forcefully as I could while at the same time fortuitously the other tenant and a friend came out and helped clear some people as I moved to a less populated area in my driveway. Annie De came out hearing the commotion and I told her to call nine one one and as she did so I grabbed my Fubar to go finish the job. Annie thought better and told me Tyler Durdin style to put it down so I did. My level of fury had over come my rationale and if my Sweet hadn't been there... The police actually got here quite quickly for the numerous times I call every week from the guy across the street peeing in front of my kids, the fight across the street, the fight across the street I was in both resulted in felony arrests because both had warrants. These people JUST MOVED IN AND WHO THE HELL ARE THESE PEOPLE INVITING TO HANG AROUND???!!! So once they were on scene I slowly burbled down and noticed I'd been sliced across two knuckles on one hand and one knuckle on the other as well as two cuts on one leg. They could all use a stitch or two in my estimation, plus I'm pretty sure I have a concussion along with my barely noticeable severe neck pain. Last year there was a stabbing in front of that house and a murder down the street. This year the guy not taking his meds has walked into multiple homes, urinated in front of my kids, starred at my wife and stood rocking in our driveway scarring her, preventing her from coming home because she's afraid finally got arrested for masturbating on a neighbors porch! He was on the street again by our house in two days. The dog fighting/training whatever it is that I put flyers up with a friend about the neighborhood being on to them. Someone was seen following the flyers going up and taking them down and it has caused a large amount of excess stress for Sweetums and myself for just about the entire summer. Oh! Oh! I can't forget the house that was dealing pills for ages finally got cleared up and was promptly filled with people the entire street knew were making meth. That house was just condemned on my street. Hooray I guess? My kids can't go barefoot anywhere because there is glass all over the sidewalks everywhere and there is so much dog shit in every yard you can't not stop in it. Also I've found two heroin needles in the grass around our house. One in the new community garden down the street. A year ago I'd organized a playgroup with lots of kids both Felix and Eliza's age which is very hard for us to do. It's usually Felix's friends or Eliza's not both. During the play date I found a heroin needle in the grass and called the police to come and get it. No one came back. I love living in the city and Vine is getting better and better every day and headed our way one day but my kids and my wife aren't safe now and I don't know what will happen the next time they're threatened. Annie thinks Eliza saw me be caused she was huddled back in a corner inside the door as far back as she could get. And this is after last nights trauma Jose that kept her up till one am. I just don't know if I can go on waiting for this neighborhood to be what it's going to be and forgo my families safety. I think I have a concussion but it was good to see everyone. The class of 89's women are stunning and even Xxxxx Xxxxx’x company was pleasant. Even before the attack though, my anger was strong and quick to rise, so much so I got the Orange Rhino (http://theorangerhino.com) tattooed on my hand as a reminder not to yell. Now however, I am volcanic. Sometimes out of nowhere. So much so that I got a tattoo of the Red Lantern Corps symbol on my chest. Its rings fueled by the power of rage. I’ve ALWAYS been angry. All my life. https://youtu.be/ZwfBMppWVYc I’ve come to the conclusion I want to explore where the anger comes from starting with my circumcision as an infant in my first days on earth. I’m a little scared of where I’m going, and what may come out to be honest. “I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”