One of the perks of this new blogging job is being able to make up words. Today’s word is Lameitude. Big Brother Gates apparently hates my new word because he continues to underline it with a squiggly bright red line. At some point, I may add it to the dictionary which I am sure will be immediately reported through some seemingly innocuous update to the bowels of the high command in Redmond. His friend Mark will send multitudes of hoodie wearing geeks to determine what to sell me since I invented it. Their arch enemies, Larry and Sergey, over in Mountain View will develop some sort of algorithm to predict the who, what, when, where and why of new words and how they might capitalize on this knowledge.

Do you have as much trouble with focus as I do? Do you think it is part of my disease?

Well, back to the word of the day. Lameitude is a progressive seemingly incurable illness which afflicts parents. Research on this disease has been troublesome because it affects parents though a wide range of ages, nationalities and cultures. In a strange twist of the scientific method however, it has now been determined that the disease’s onset is most closely linked not to the age of the victim but, to the age of the victim’s children. More study is needed and continue to monitor this website for breaking news on this disease.

I think I should tell you some of the symptoms so that you will know if you have contracted this insidious disease.

After diapers, colic and potty training my wife and I were happy parents for a time…

I have to stop here. Can you believe Bill underlines potty? The fact that Bill doesn’t know the word potty is both scary and an indictment of our society. Were there so many levels of nannies and caretakers between himself and his children that he was robbed of the splendor of the potty? Well, I just feel sad for him…

Parenting was simple. Our daughter had needs and we met them. Food was easy after sterilized bottles, breast pumps and frozen milk. She ate most anything including broccoli and crunchy carrots. Entertainment was a breeze. Hours and hours of uncontrolled laughter could be produced by the cutting of the eyes. Clothing was a snap. A sundress with the blue vomit stain of too much birthday cake was socially acceptable. As long as she was clean, fed, warm and dry, things went well. Her only extravagance was a song to go to sleep and a new dress for church. Songs work for lots of things. My favorite is Sweet Baby James.

You must be vigilant with this disease because, out of nowhere, sometime around her 11^th birthday I began to be afflicted with Lameitude.

Yup, I hate to tell you but, eye cutting will quit working. Total and complete meltdowns will occur when you bring out the blue vomit dress. My Lameitude makes her refuse to eat broccoli, carrots, lasagna, chicken stew, potato soup, peppers, onions… well, it would be easier to list her current Lameitude tolerant menu. My singing has become revolting due to my Lameitude. I really don’t see or understand how embarrassing my Lameitude has become. It is so embarrassing my daughter has resorted to walking several steps ahead or behind me when in public.

I tell you, Lameitude affects everything including my speech and voice.

Lameitude has caused the language centers in my brain not to function properly. It makes me think I am speaking easily decipherable sentences but, apparently, I can’t. Many times I believe I am speaking but, my daughter’s eyes remain in a glazed, catatonic state.

It is a really terrible disease and I hope you don’t get it.

I really hate it for my daughter. She has resorted to staying in her room because she can’t stand the disease’s effects. She hardly, if ever, smiles. She mostly talks to her friends though Facetime, Facebook, IPhone, IPad, IThis and Facethat now. She must fill her days with Instagram and YouTube and other things I can’t understand because of my disease. I hate to say this but, I am afraid her mother has it too. There was a time when they were inseparable. My daughter was even clingy to her mom but, my daughter has to get away from her now too.

I have to tell you, I really miss my daughter. I miss swinging and going fishing. I hope I am cured soon.