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Interlude from Hell


Its time to take a pause in these blog entries. Before I go on to talk about me and Kane’s adventures at the Stanley Hotel, I thought it necessary to take a breather. As you may have noticed, there has been a drastic slow down in the posting of these entries. The reason being, I recently became a father… of twins. Before my son Ashton and daughter Brooklyn were born, I’d try to squeeze in an entry a week into my hectic life of traveling, writing and running my publishing company. I typically could do that and post about one every other week to spread them out. And while I knew the kids were coming, I had no clue they would come six weeks early… throwing my world into a tail spin.

During the entire pregnancy process, Kane became a fatherly voice of advice to talk to when I needed someone to vent to. While he keeps his private life just that, private, Kane is a great father to two excellent boys, one in college and another finishing up his high school career. While fans know Kane is incredibly kind and generous to everyone, it’s sort of hard to picture the crazy killer being a father, yet he has been one for almost two decades now. When he found out my wife, J.Anna, was pregnant, he laughed heartily and gave me some quick advice and tips on how to handle her impending mood swings. When he found out it was twins, he did nothing but laugh. When we found out the sexes, he wanted to guess what they were, and was right.

When the babies came early and my wife almost died, Kane was one of the first people I called. Because while rattled, I knew he would be a calm and steady voice that would give me some advice and sage words to help me get through having two kids in the NICU and a wife knocked out on drugs. And he did, he put on his serious, calm tone, listened to me and told me things would be fine and that I was a father now. Then he went on to make me laugh, talking about how he wishes he could be there to watch me change my first diaper.

As my wife healed up and the kids started to grow, the last thing on my mind was writing. I was spending endless hours visiting my wife, then each kid one by one, holding their tiny hands through the small port hole of their incubators. At only three pounds and four pounds each, they were so fragile I was scared to even breathe around them. Kane cheered me up by first boasting that he was born at 11 pounds 9 ounces (something my son wouldn’t reach until he was three months old), but that one of his best friends was born at three pounds and went on to be six foot four and a huge man. It gave me some hope.

It was a hard few weeks, but sure enough, Kane was correct and things ended up being alright… my family came home. That’s when Kane really started to have a good time with my situation, laughing at my lack of sleep and frustration over not being able to do any work. When it came to me, I started to become a zombie. A friend of mine, Dan Loubier, had a child a few years ago; he got such little sleep he decided to stay up at night to write. He ended up writing a novel… a zombie novel called Dead Summit, because he felt like one himself. I now understand why he wrote this. Shuffling my feet, eyes half closed, babies screaming, stomach groaning from lack of food, I actually envied zombies, as their lives were easier.

Sadly, I boasted to all my friends and family that I was going to be the best stay at home dad, that “I got this”. Before the kids were born I said that countless times, thinking I could handle it and do my writing as normal. I grossly under estimated how hard being a stay at home Dad would be. I had no clue that the lack of sleep would make me cranky for the first time in my life (something Kane loved as I always prided myself in the fact that nothing in the world could make me cranky… besides him). I couldn’t get anything done (still can’t, I’m writing this at three in the morning while they are asleep) and my days became blurs of screams, diapers and feedings.

The lack of sleep and the demands of having to constantly take care of not one, but two little humans have sent my world into a tail spin. I have hardly gotten any work done, let alone new blogs. It’s been the hardest four months of my life, though slowly, but surely, it’s getting better. The kids are sleeping more and I’m getting a hang on taking care of them. And really they are… well… crap. This is the part where I’m supposed to put something sweet in like, “but when they smile, it’s all worth it!” While it is nice when they smile, hold on to me or do something cute, it’s quickly ruined when they fart while I’m changing them sending wet green poop all over my face, shirt, window and worst of all, my computer. Regardless, I’m sure it will only get better and I will love these little monsters more and more.

Finally the other day the kids got to meet Uncle Kane for the first time in Salem, MA while Kane was doing an appearance at Count Orlok’s Nightmare Gallery. While it was insanely crowded and loud from the annual motorcycle rally, it was wonderful getting to see Kane with the kids. He eagerly wanted to hold them, take pictures and give us some advice on parenting. We then joked about how he is going to take Ash once a year for a weekend to teach him how to be a real man… unlike his dad.

To the rest of the world he might be this tough killer, but to me, he is my friend who I know will always be there for me with some tough love and good advice. And I am more than thrilled to have my kids have a “Killer Uncle” in their life.

Now that I have vented and made my excuses for why there has been a lack of entries… it’s time to get back to… the road to hell. Next stop: The Stanley Hotel.