A Real Tosser
Over the past month, life has been tossed into the spin cycle. I suppose that’s why it has been radio silence. But, I dunno, maybe I just needed a break. No excuses beyond that, my friends.
K is working mornings. And by mornings, I mean before sunrise, in the darkness. When the racoons rummage through our garbage cans. When the weird can collector seaches through our recycle bin. When Mark, my Lithuanian carpenter/neighbor, lights his first cigarette. When the whores at Scruples count their cash. When the ravers “roll” into their driveways.
Well, that’s when when the Monaco house is a-stirring. Kris closes the back door behind her at 4:45 on some mornings—like this morning for example.
These days, I’m not only responsible for getting my own lazy ass outta bed and ready for the day, but I gotta rouse a 2 ½ year old from a blissful slumber. And if you know Cam, you know she loves her sleep. Down at 8:30 pm, up at 7 am.
On these early days, I try and let her sleep as long as possible, because the irritability quotient skyrockets for every minute she’s deprived. This morning I rode it out until 7am—she woke up with a smile.
I’ve learned along the way though, my friends. I have a cool cup of apple juice close by as a peace offering. That seems to put her in the right spirit for the day. Luckily, she’s an an agreeable, easy going, playful little cub. Rarely raises a fuss about anything.
But, like all of us, she has moments of explosive, illogical, uncontrollable rage. Very Monaco-esque if you ask me.
Anger is an interesting subject for me. I consider myself an anger extrovert. Kris, I would say, is an anger introvert.
I convert my rage into non-sensical rants, speading the joy to anyone within earshot. I throw objects. Never at people, usually at walls. Like I said I’m an extrovert, so I need to project projectiles, sometimes in the back yard, or even on a neighbor’s rooftop. Here’s a short list of items I’ve thrown because, well, I’m a big baby. (You might enjoy this.)
Pizza Dough
Snow Shovel
Metal Rake
Deck Broom
Peanut Butter Sandwich
Car Keys
Hot Cereal
Throwing food is a big thing for me. I suppose I never grew out of it. Kris, on the other hand, bundles her anger into a knot deep inside. She is mysterious about the whole thing. You never really know what’s bothering her until you dig around for a while and agitate and irritate her enough. This “unearthing” is quite a skill of mine, just ask her.
It’s a fun dynamic—a dynamic only the Monaco inner sanctum gets to see. But I’m here to tell you about it. My resolution for this year and for the rest of my life is total transparency. I'm dropping my defenses, everyone. I am now unguarded.
And it feels pretty good.
K is working mornings. And by mornings, I mean before sunrise, in the darkness. When the racoons rummage through our garbage cans. When the weird can collector seaches through our recycle bin. When Mark, my Lithuanian carpenter/neighbor, lights his first cigarette. When the whores at Scruples count their cash. When the ravers “roll” into their driveways.
Well, that’s when when the Monaco house is a-stirring. Kris closes the back door behind her at 4:45 on some mornings—like this morning for example.
These days, I’m not only responsible for getting my own lazy ass outta bed and ready for the day, but I gotta rouse a 2 ½ year old from a blissful slumber. And if you know Cam, you know she loves her sleep. Down at 8:30 pm, up at 7 am.
On these early days, I try and let her sleep as long as possible, because the irritability quotient skyrockets for every minute she’s deprived. This morning I rode it out until 7am—she woke up with a smile.
I’ve learned along the way though, my friends. I have a cool cup of apple juice close by as a peace offering. That seems to put her in the right spirit for the day. Luckily, she’s an an agreeable, easy going, playful little cub. Rarely raises a fuss about anything.
But, like all of us, she has moments of explosive, illogical, uncontrollable rage. Very Monaco-esque if you ask me.
Anger is an interesting subject for me. I consider myself an anger extrovert. Kris, I would say, is an anger introvert.
I convert my rage into non-sensical rants, speading the joy to anyone within earshot. I throw objects. Never at people, usually at walls. Like I said I’m an extrovert, so I need to project projectiles, sometimes in the back yard, or even on a neighbor’s rooftop. Here’s a short list of items I’ve thrown because, well, I’m a big baby. (You might enjoy this.)
Pizza Dough
Snow Shovel
Metal Rake
Deck Broom
Peanut Butter Sandwich
Car Keys
Hot Cereal
Throwing food is a big thing for me. I suppose I never grew out of it. Kris, on the other hand, bundles her anger into a knot deep inside. She is mysterious about the whole thing. You never really know what’s bothering her until you dig around for a while and agitate and irritate her enough. This “unearthing” is quite a skill of mine, just ask her.
It’s a fun dynamic—a dynamic only the Monaco inner sanctum gets to see. But I’m here to tell you about it. My resolution for this year and for the rest of my life is total transparency. I'm dropping my defenses, everyone. I am now unguarded.
And it feels pretty good.
posted by Greg Monaco at 10:05 AM
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