J.J. Goodman: Writings, Musings and More

[Warning: Post contains profanity for comedic purposes. Deal with it.] Well here we are at ten months old and... wait. Did she… she didn't. Did she? She did. She DID. Those were steps. Honest-to-goodness steps. She walked. Dear sweet bejeebus holy crap on a cracker, my kid is walking.   Fuuuuuuuuuudge. Only I didn't say fuuuuu… fuck. Okay? I said fuck. Pretty loudly if I recall. My daughter is walking. WALKING. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.   (Take a deep breath there sport. Babies do that.)   She wasn't even ten months old yet.   (Oh. Well… fuck.)   Right??? Yes, dear readers, my daughter, at the ripe old age of 9 months and 22 days decided that crawling is so pass é . I mean, seriously. Crawling is for babies. That's like ordering a non-fat, low-foam, high temp soy latte from Starbucks when everybody is ordering a skim milk, mid-foam, high temp latte.   (I… don't think that's a thing.)   I hope not. Because if I got stuck behind

When people tell you that time goes by fast when you’re raising and caring for a baby, believe them. Believe the ever living f*ck out of them. (How does one believe the f… never mind. We don’t want to know.) All I’m saying is that the time does goes fast. Like, Buffalo Bills fans leaving the stadium during the third quarter of a 41-9 blowout fast. (Bitter much?) I’m a Bills fan. It’s in my blood.   Anyway…. I admit that I am sorely remise in my writing my parenting prose lately. It's been three months, and for that I do sincerely apologize. Several months ago, as many of you know, I took on a new writing gig that has taken up a good deal of my writing time. And, frankly, my creativity. Add to that the regular stresses of work, some work travel for both me and my betrothed and, well, here we are. My daughter has now been alive on the outside as long as she was on the inside. Holy. Crapballs. As fast as time itself has gone, my daughter has grown equally fast. At