So, who am I, anyway? (Part I)

   Yeah, I know I have a description in the "about me" section, but I figured what I wrote there doesn't really say a lot, even for me. Thus the urge to want to expand on telling folk about myself - assuming, of course, that I actually gain some followers who might want to know who the heck it is that's writing this crap.
  Since I am an obsessive list-maker, I'll make one here to address and expand on the stuff I put in my profile (WARNING: NERD ALERT!!!):

1. Father of two daughters and a son. My oldest (a daughter) is soon to be 26 (geeeez, just the thought of that makes my ass feel decrepit), very pretty, graceful, stylish, sassy, bossy, and inherited her mother's family's penchant for nursing grudges over God knows what. Always seemed to relish her status of big sister. Mother to a just-turned 7 year old son. My other two (one boy, one girl) are 23 year-old twins, who are tempermentally as opposite from each other as one might imagine two former womb-mates could have turned out to be: he is tall, muscular, handsome - and he KNOWS it. Brash, hyperconfident, loyal to his family and friends, fun loving.  He has, to everyone's surprise (except his own), transformed himself from something of a problem child, always questioning authority and always the jokester and slacker who did everything his own (usually maddening to the rest of us) way, to a Marine's Marine, dedicated, proud and strong, who has learned that there is a time a place for everything; She, on the other hand, has gone in the opposite direction, from a serious, fiercely dedicated student involved in all manner of activities, to one who has lost her way a bit. Still very smart, quiet, athletic, musical, as well as good-looking - but hasn't yet harnessed all that ability and channeled it into a defnitive direction. A little too much like her father, for better and worse...each is the parent of a son; his is almost a year old, hers will be two on New Year's Eve.

1a. Grandfather of three boys. My #1 grandson has a birthday of 9/11, born three years to the date after (and almost at the same time of ) the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. All boy, very energetic, an avid reader, speller, and video game player.Always wants to know people's names, and rarely forgets a name once he is told what it is. Loves football and baseball, and knows the number of every Baltimore Ravens player. A favorite with the fans in his Auntie's season ticket section at Orioles Park at Camden Yards. Grandson #2 - the wild thing - was born on New Year's Eve two years ago. Very busy, into every damned thing, loves music, can't walk past a piano without wanting to play it - like his Pop-Pop - and doesn't bang the keys like a lot of little kids, but actually uses his fingers to try to gently press the keys (a star in the making?)...I just met grandson #3 for the first time last month, when my son and his wife came to town for our family reunion. He is almost a year old, a butterball, and just as cute as can be. Quiet, except when there's music on, then he's bouncing and singing...can't wait to see him again, to get more a feel of his personality. I think he was a little overwhelmed by all the new people smiling at and talking to him, and passing him around...

2. (All with the same woman, thank you). We grew up in the same church, but I had no clue who she was until we started playing on a church softball team together. Even then, I still didn't know her until she got my phone number from one of the other team members and started calling me (part of a lifelong pattern of me becoming involved with women by means other than me actually taking the initiative to go up and talk to them. On the one hand, I guess I'm fortunate for having met ANY women at all without ever having approached one in my lifetime; on the other hand, I probably have missed out on a TON of opportunities because of this particular lack of initiative. However, this is a topic for another day, so I'll move on...).  She was tall, leggy, busty, beautiful, and super smart. I was shocked she wanted to have anything to do with me (another lifelong pattern with me and women).        
    After five years together, we (she?) decided we should get married. I wasn't particularly excited at the prospect. Oh I figured we would eventually get married, just not at ages 22 and 19,  and with me trying to finish college. On top of that, even though (I thought) I loved her, I wasn't all that sure I actually, you know, LIKED her. But she was pretty insistent on getting married ASAP, and kind of vaguely hinted that if we didn't then it would be time for her to move on. As a result, I (and this is a third lifelong pattern  I've had with women I've been involved with) worried that without her I'd never find anyone else, and end up alone. Plus, there was a lot of sex involved, so I'm sure that clouded my judgment as well...
   Anyway, we got married, and nine months later came baby #1, followed in two years by the twins...after that a few years of struggle. followed by us putting on our track shoes and running the rat race as fast as we were able (the rats ALWAYS win the race, but what the hell, you can at least scoop up some crumbs and leftover cheese that their fat, happy asses don't get to), moving up a little in the world, and creating a poster-perfect image of ourselves as a happy, loving, middle class American ideal of a family...except that the two people at the head of the family had grown miserable with, and disconnected from, each other. We stayed together about as long as we could stand it - 16 years - for the kids' sake, we told ourselves-until finally, even they understood that enough was enough...
   In ther ten years since we split up, there has been the usual share of ugliness, accusation, underhandedness, etc., that one might expect in such circumstances. There would have to be an emergency or event of extreme importance for us to even speak to each other these days. But it's kind of pointless to be bitter or resentful or pissed off after all this time. We had some good years, good times, and three wonderful children. Nothing left to complain about at this point...well, except for one thing: I fully blame her for my Pepsi addiction. Growing up, I hardly ever drank anything but Kool Aid. Soda was a luxury partaken of only at picnics, parties, the beach and ballgames. Then I got around my wife and her family, and all they fucking drank was Pepsi. Pepsi with EVERYTHING...now all these years later, no matter how hard I try, I can't totally shake myself loose from drinking the stuff...Damn you to hell, woman!

(TO BE CONTINUED...)