I was sitting one evening at the kitchen table  following up on emails and checking data when I got the call from the living room. Jaden and Dillon were lying on the floor about to watch a show, and Jaden gave the order. He popped up from in front of the couch and gave the patented furrowed brow, lowered head, raised eyed-scowl and stated firmly, “Dad, stop working!” Well then. I knew this was no time to argue. I took my place on the floor and ultimately lost myself in their world of imagination and goofiness. I love that they will call me out when I’m spending too much time on things that matter too little. I hope that they continue to care enough to do it… but more importantly, I am working to keep it in mind enough so they don’t have to. In order to assist myself to that end, I decided to add a sub list to number 10 so I can be mindful of the things that help make the time the time worth spending…

10a. building Legos… watching their minds work as they contemplate new creations, seeing the breakthrough moments, helping them apply different approaches to building, and seeing the pride in their accomplishments…fantastic

10b. playing Wii… the new Super Mario Bros. is an addiction (but not the cause of my hiatus). working with Logan, Jaden, and Dillon to conquer the levels and locate the secret passages provides many opportunities for providing constructive support and demonstrating patience with one another… i used the word “opportunities”, we have some work to do (myself included). Wii boxing with Jaden (nasty right hook); Wii baseball with Dillon (still can’t hit his sinker); Guitar Heroes with Logan (loves to show his skills on “Story of my life”); and Ethan, he is still at the age where he is fairly content holding the controller while we convince him he is either helping us out or is playing the role of an uncontrollable character in the game (e.g. Red Toad in Super Mario)

10c. reading books… Ethan is a Sandra Boynton fanatic, as were his brothers before him… and i cannot recall a day in the past few weeks where either Kendra or i (or both several times) have not read “A fly went by” to him. he gets so involved; acting out the words or chiming in on his favorite parts… it is always an active event. 

10d. talking… love to hear their thoughts on anything. they all have brilliant minds.

10e. vacations…they are great road trippers… even when i added 2 hours to our return trip from San Diego because i went on a snipe hunt to find them a funnel cake stand (which we never found) and then missed our exit to the freeway because we were too busy talking about how insane it was that we drove all over the city only to find an abandoned office in an industrial park that looked like it might have been the headquarters of a funnel cake company at one time. but on the plus side, they did get to see Mexico, or at least they would have if they had looked up from their video games. 

10f. anything…doing anything with them, even if it’s doing nothing, is time well spent. Got to love that face time…

Thanks for coming along for the ride…

I pushed our loot to the register and Kendra walked off with Ethan in search of some gum. The woman at the checkout counter noticed them and asked if she could help locate what they were seeking. I let her know their agenda, and she advised me that sadly, they did not carry gum.  I braced myself for the disappointment, and called out to Kendra to let her know.  Ethan looked up with a slightly alarmed expression (gum has become somewhat of a “problem” for him). The lady, who could not have been nicer, saw Ethan’s face. She said she might have some gum on her, and reached into her smock. She produced a pack of gum. It was still in the cellophane wrapper. She smiled kindly at Ethan and offered him the first piece from her personal stash (while this was exceedingly kind, this type of stuff just has to stop. I am about 98% sure he believes the world and everyone in it exists purely for his entertainment and amusement. My parents do nothing to help this condition either… but I digress).

Ethan was satisfied. He rewarded his faithful servant with an Ethan smile while playfully tucking his chin, lifting his outward shoulder slightly, and turning his head inward toward his mom in a semi-bashful pose. He gave a whispered “thank you” to raise the cuteness meter a little more, then turned his gaze away from her so he could fully concentrate on enjoying his gum. Ethan was ready for a second piece by the time she was done scanning our items. He looked at his gift giver as he swallowed the gum. He turned to Kendra, “More. More gum momma.” Kendra told him there was no more and that we might try to find some later. Ethan turned back to the woman helping us, “More”. He had spoken. She began to reach  into her smock when Kendra whisked him out of the store reminding him again that he was done for now but maybe we’d find some later. I thanked the kind lady again and took our purchases outside.

There it was: the little black sanding sponge. I’d forgotten we even picked it up, and I didn’t remember it being scanned. We decided on a package of sandpaper instead, so we didn’t even need that sponge. Kendra checked the receipt…not there. I didn’t want to deal with it. The thing didn’t cost more than 2 or 3 dollars anyway. It was right there in the basket, so I am not even sure how she missed it. Ethan was being squirmy now. He needed to be changed. We needed lunch. We still had things to do. I held it for a moment… looked at it, looked back at the store. Ethan looked at me curiously. I tossed the little black sanding sponge into the back of the vehicle along with everything else. Ethan was standing in the cart, so I took him with me to return the cart to the store.

I was expecting a fight with my conscience, but it was eerily silent. It was like the silence from your parents when you feel like you are too old to be scolded. When you know you’re wrong, and they know you know you’re wrong… but they just give you the look. They don’t say anything. You expect the lecture; you want the argument. But they just stand there looking at you… saying nothing. It’s that loud silence. There’s no need for words. I looked at Ethan. He looked at me.

We got back to the parking space. I handed Ethan to Kendra then grabbed the little black sanding sponge. Kendra offered to change Ethan while I returned it. I walked back in to the store and gave the item to a different woman working at the returns counter. She smiled and shook my hand. It seemed ridiculous that she would be so appreciative of me returning something worth less than a few dollars. Then it seemed more ridiculous that I initially balked at returning it in the first place; even when I had to walk back to the store to return the cart.

Kendra and Ethan were buckled in and ready to go when I got back. We pulled out of the parking space and Kendra began to drive off. I noticed it out of the corner of my eye, “Wait!”. Kendra stopped abruptly. I looked over to the parking space we had just left. Ethan’s right shoe was sitting in the space. Kendra had been on a mission for those shoes, and finally found them a few weeks ago. Even after she found them, it was no small feat to finally get them. I will just state that losing that shoe would not have been a good thing. I turned and looked at his toes wiggling in his sock. I hopped out to grab the stranded shoe. I had to think it was no accident that I happened to glance and see it… and had I not returned the little black sanding sponge, I would have to think it would be no accident if I had suddenly misplaced his shoe.

I slid his shoe back on…he looked at me and gave me the Ethan smile, and I couldn’t hear the silence any more. There are no small tests.

Thanks for coming along for the ride…

We spent the holiday on Monday running around together. And as I watched the boys and searched their actions for any hints or signs of internal fire, I contemplated the great many contributions of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., I asked myself “What if he didn’t share his dream? What if he hadn’t heeded the call to service and followed the convictions of his heart?” There were way too many possibilities for me to fully explore… I was just certain that the absence of his patience and diplomacy; his strength and courage; and his vision and hope during that important time would have drastically affected the civil rights movement. The echoes of his work and his inspiration have circled the globe several times over. Could someone else have carried that torch? Might other groups or individuals have surfaced at later points that could have put us back on or near the path he blazed? Maybe, maybe not; of course it’s impossible to say. I can’t fully imagine the world had he not followed his heart; I can only say I am glad to know the reality that exists today because he did. And as I contemplated the prospect of Dr. King not following his fire, I began to run through the same exercise with other prominent figures in history and the potential bleakness that might have been…then on to a smaller scale…to me; to my sons.

I believe we all have God-given talents and abilities. I don’t know that they are always revealed in ways we expect or at times we find convenient. They may not be the talents or gifts we would have preferred to receive or any that we find immediately useful…but they are what they need to be, and at times they may even be intended to serve others rather than ourselves. God lights fires within us to do certain things or to walk certain paths…call it passion; call it heart; call it drive… however you associate with it or relate to it, it is the unquenchable fire that moves you toward a specific goal. Sometimes those fires align with your talents and abilities. Sometimes those fires shine as passion’s bright lights to attract the people with the right talents and abilities to you in order to get things accomplished. So I watch them in hopes of catching a glimpse of a flicker of the flame… to help them recognize it within themselves, and to harness the fire and help to focus and guide it if I can.

Passions and enthusiasms ebb and flow, but once that fire is lit, it remains constantly within when the other interests fade. It can’t be ignored, but it can be denied. I don’t want them to live with the regrets of not following through and wondering what could have been if they had devoted their lives to developing their talents and fueling their fires. Langston Hughes captures the concept in A Dream Deferred. He suggests that even if the “dream” (or fire) can be disregarded, it will remain in some form as a reminder in its “deferred” state…even to the point of explosion; potentially consuming it’s carrier. No… I’d rather they embrace whatever it is at the moment of recognition and hold on tightly down whatever corridors that path takes them. If God lights the fire, He will light the way.

I love to write. I always have. I am drawn to it… it is my fire. I received some advice once…well, several times through many iterations of the same conversation with various parties. It was sound advice. It was simple. It took me a few years to hear it, but I finally heard it.  The conversation(s) went like this:

Me: “I really want to write. I feel like that is what I should be doing.”

Friend: “So write.”

Me: “No, you don’t understand… it’s complicated. I can’t just write. I don’t have a lot of time, I work too much, there’s no money in it, excuse, excuse, excuse…”

Friend: “But, you feel like you have to write? like you should be writing?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Friend: “Hmm. So write.”

So right. I have to write. I may never make a living writing, but I’ve stopped making excuses for not doing it. I will encourage them to follow whatever their passions describe, and pray they have the courage to stay the course. I am eternally grateful for those conversations and for that message. It is what I will say to my sons when they tell me about their fire. So write. So sing. So cure. So think. So run. So help. So teach. So preach. So heal. So fight. So move… So live.

Thank you for coming along for the ride…

One of the many blessings of having kids in ages from toddler to teenager is having the ever-present reminder that “Dad’s Little Helper”, while a highly prestigious and sought after position early on, quickly becomes the job no one wants to take or hold for very long as the kids grow older. Logan was fantastic as an assistant bicycle mechanic. He was an expert seed thrower and jr. landscape artist. But now… the other day, I asked him to sweep the front walkway because we had people coming over and everyone was tasked with something to help out; he obliged, but I believe the word he used was “exploitation”, or some derivative thereof.

Jaden spent about 20 minutes washing dishes the other day. Both he and Dillon rush to help me pull weeds, hang pictures, fix chairs, and change AC filters. Ethan loves to help empty the dishwasher and help sweep. Dillon and Jaden used to help me make pancakes almost every weekend. Now they just help out every now and then. They’ve passed a lot of the pancake helper opportunities down to Ethan, who is a permanent fixture in the kitchen when I’m making pancakes or when Kendra is baking anything. He is in full blown “Little Helper” mode and is trying to climb that corporate ladder as quickly as his little Pumas will take him. The twins have reached the executive office level and feel like they need to start branching out. They do enjoy being BBQ/Grilling assistants though… I think it’s the lure of the fire. The danger factor plays well with them. They are looking forward to helping me take the Tiger Saw to the Christmas tree.

Yep, these days just fly… I document these things not to brag, but as evidence that these times did indeed exist, because in a few years it may not seem even remotely possible… but also to remind myself not to be impatient or get frustrated by the “help” that I receive, because the help won’t last long. My jr. executives will venture on just as the previous administration did. Ethan will ascend to the high ranks and shortly afterwards, he too will depart. So, it isn’t just the loss of my illustrator, but the eventual vacancies that will exist in all the helper categories that make me want to appreciate every one of the little things they do today.

Thanks for coming along for the ride…

Lately, Ethan will appear out of nowhere walking oddly… his chin tucked into his chest with his eyes raised barely high enough to see where he is going. He’ll be hunched over with a slight tilt to one side with his arms crossed or hands folded over a hip. Or, he will come streaking past inexplicably and try to avoid your line of sight. Once, he darted behind the Christmas tree and peeked out with his eyes bright and wide with “nothing to see here!” expression on his face. You know; inconspicuous things like that.

The first incident that stood out to me was with his new art easel. I had opened a box of chalk and placed a single pack in the chalk tub of his easel. Ethan wanted a second pack as well. Only one pack fit at a time, and the packs contained the same color chalk, so I told him no and put the chalk away. I leave for a few minutes and come back to see what Jaden and Dillon are up to, and I see Ethan standing behind the chalkboard side of his easel almost fully doubled over. At first I thought something might be wrong with him, but then it became very obvious that he was trying to keep me from seeing him. I stood still, and after a few seconds he peeked up to see if I was still there. His head rolled back and his big brown eyes appeared from behind the curls. He startled a bit and then flashed a sly smile. He remained bent over a bit and kept his arms folded over his chalk.

“Ethan, what do you have?”

“No daddy!”

“Ethan.”

“No daddy. My chalk!”

My first thought was just to grab the chalk from him and put it away in a higher location but I wasn’t sure that was going to result in any lesson other than “I am stronger than you” which I am pretty sure he had established. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to laugh or raise my voice, but watching his physical response to the situation made me opt for the lighter path. I decided to tell him why I only put one packet of chalk in the tub. I let him know that he could keep that pack of chalk and I would put the other pack back in the box since it was his new gift and I didn’t give him a chance to pick which chalk he wanted to use first. He knew he was doing something that he probably shouldn’t have and his behavior indicated that. I let it go at that. He put the chalk in the bin and I returned the other packet to the box… which was somehow lying in the middle of the pantry… and placed it in a much more secure location.

We’ve had a few more incidents since then… mainly involving candy canes… but each time, we are measured in our reactions. If it is something he didn’t ask for, he needs to ask and he may or may not get whatever it is. If it is something he asked for and was told no, he loses it immediately. So far, he has willingly relinquished whatever he has been found to have and is doing it more as playful gesture now than as an act of deviousness. He is pushing the envelope and exploring his boundaries. The reaction he gets when he does what he is not supposed to is simple correction and redirection. There isn’t a lot of emotion and animation. There is no fun in him trying to elicit that response. He sees that the main reaction he gets from us is laughter when he does those things in a silly manner and praise when he does things well so that is what he likes to recreate. I would rather he become accustomed to my laughter and smile than to the sound of my anger.

I really credit Kendra with us taking this approach… that wasn’t the approach my brother and I experienced, and it wasn’t what I came to the table willing or ready to try right off. I had a hard time when we started doing this type of thing with Jaden and Dillon. I really didn’t feel the need to explain myself to my kids when I told them not to do something. It seemed ridiculous to talk through the rationale behind my actions or decisions. But, when I started to do that, I realized that I really didn’t have any rationalization behind a lot of my “rules” and that I was just enforcing things for the sake of having control over things I didn’t really need to control. They have responded well with the trust we’ve placed in them and I think it has helped me be a better parent. We draw lines where lines need to be drawn, and they don’t have to make judgments about which rules are the really important ones and which ones they can break.

It isn’t easy. I continually struggle with maintaining that focus; especially if I am tired or stressed out. But those are the times when it is probably most important that I stay consistent. I have slipped, but I’ve also apologized when I approached a situation in a way I shouldn’t have. That is never fun… but I know the boys appreciate it. Being a man is not about being perfect, but it is about accountability and growth. I can’t expect them to honor a code or an ideal that I cannot model for them, and I don’t want them to feel like it’s not okay to make mistakes. We celebrate our successes… when we make mistakes, we own them, learn from them, and move along… nothing to see here.

Thanks for coming along for the ride…

I was in one of those hurries the other day… we were heading out for dinner before going into Phoenix to see the Christmas illumination extravaganza known as Zoo Lights. I had a plan, and timing was of the essence. I had figured that we could get to the restaurant and finish before the rush, then arrive at the zoo just after sunset and hopefully beat the mob that would be arriving after dark (I don’t like crowds. At all. It isn’t so much the people, it’s just that there are so many of them… and they get in my way…I digress.) We started out on track… I hustled everyone out of the house right at the desired time. I figured 10-12 minutes to the restaurant door to door and then all the pieces would fall into place. All was well.

Somehow, and I really cannot even recall how this came up, just a few blocks away from the restaurant we discovered that Dillon had forgotten his shoes… Yeah. Frustration began to set in. I could feel my firm grip on the schedule slipping away. I started calculating the time it would take to turn around, drive back home, find his shoes, and then get back to this point of the journey… I figured we’d get stuck at 2/3 of the lights each way. Kendra offered to drop the rest of us off at the restaurant, go back with Dillon to get his shoes, and then return to eat. I declined. It would only add to the slippage of time, too many unknown variables could enter the equation… I made a U-turn.

I sped homeward. The boys were in their respective places: Logan in the 3rd row listening to his iPod and reading; Ethan in the middle of the 2nd row in his car seat chattering; and Jaden and Dillon on either side of him alternately reading and playing with random remains of Happy Meal toys. Dillon extended his stocking-ed toes over the armrest periodically; taunting me with the reminder of the cause of this detour. I maneuvered swiftly through the traffic intent on making up as much time (safely) as I could. I was focused (Now, Kendra might try to argue that I was sulking, but that is just not the case… I was merely reflecting on the recent events and intensely working through a solution in my mind… just for the record).

We arrived home and Kendra hopped out to go find some footwear for Dillon (who was completely unconcerned about having forgotten his shoes). While we sat in the driveway, I kept running through the schedule I had laid out and it began to dawn on me why we were in the car together going out that evening in the first place. Embarrassed, once again, by my behavior, I let go of all my frustration (notice, I did not say, “stop sulking”). I decided to take this as an opportunity to start the trip over again and actually enjoy the time with everyone while we had the night together. Kendra returned with shoes and we were off once again…and that’s when I saw it.

Due North of us, just over the mountains (hills) in our sight line was a descending hot air balloon. It appeared very small at firs and seemed a great distance away. I pointed it out to the boys, and we spent the next several minutes spotting it out of windows as we made our way back toward the restaurant. It was growing larger and clearer in view. It was headed our way. Ethan had never seen one of these in “real life” before. His eyes were open bright and wide as he watched that orb float closer to us. He had an opened mouth grin plastered on his face as he watched in amazement.

The balloon still lied a good distance ahead of us, and it almost appeared that it was going to land in the middle of road we were on. My mind immediately jumped to thoughts of the traffic that would cause, but thankfully those images quickly vanished and were replaced by thoughts of how cool it would be for the boys to be able to get out in that kind of a traffic jam and check out the balloon up close. I was beginning to slow down.

We entered into a largely residential stretch of this boulevard, and trees lined the eastern shoulder. The hot air balloon began to descend quite rapidly and disappeared behind the wall of foliage. “Did it land on someone’s house?” “Did it land in a yard?” We were full of wonder. I slowed my pace as we approached the area the balloon appeared to have landed. Ethan’s eye’s were fixed on Jaden’s window. Jaden and Dillon searched around as we passed by the neighborhood… then a clearing… then, “Balloon! Balloon! Jaden, Balloon! Dillon, Balloon! Logan, Logan… Balloon!” Ethan was awestruck.

This huge checkered balloon had landed in a greenbelt park at the edge of the neighborhood. I slowed down as we passed by. The chase vehicle had already parked and had the trailer ready to load the gondola. We continued on towards dinner; the car full of excitement and conversation. The rest of the night was fantastic. We ate dinner outside in the cool evening air and the boys ran and played on the lawn. We all enjoyed the Zoo Lights, and even ran into some old co-workers there. We saw cool light shows and crazy otters. We saw Komodo Dragons and a talking giraffe… and from what I understand, there was apparently quite a few people there.

Over the next few days Ethan would erupt with a random utterance of“Balloon! High! Balloon!” I would sit and talk him through the entire event again… how we saw it way up high; how it landed in the park outside Jaden’s window; how it was bigger than the houses and the trees. He would stare off as if he was seeing it all over again… nodding slowly as we talked through it. Then he’d look at me and whisper “yeah”.

These are the things that wait for you to take the time to notice them. They are out there to observe everyday. Sometimes we just need the speed bumps in our way to force us to slow down and enjoy what beauty and courage and strength and imagination and whatever else inspires you exists in our everyday walk. I’m beginning to be on the lookout for speed bumps, and in doing so I am slowing myself down enough to notice more of the things I’ve been speeding by. It was an impressive precision landing, and it sparked a lot of great conversation for us about balloons and flying… and it made a lasting impression on Ethan… probably the greatest thrill of his life so far. Which also cemented a trip for us next year to the Balloon Fiesta! All because Dillon forgot his shoes.

Papa looked down at his youngest grandson… He had to do something about that dirty face. Ethan’s big bright eyes shone back above his smiling round cheeks covered with the evidence of a few too many sweet snacks. Ethan knew the look. It was time to get changed and cleaned up to go home. He knew… and he knew Papa knew he knew. Papa approached cautiously. Ethan presented his mischievous grin and lowered his head to peer up at his approaching guardian with wide smiling eyes. “No Papa!” Ethan shrieked, laughing and darting away from Papa’s outstretched arms.

Ethan ran, and weaved his way through furniture and in an out of rooms. Papa gave chase dutifully. Both would pause for a moment on either side of a furniture barrier as they caught their breaths and Ethan studied the landscape for a new escape route; giggling furiously the entire time. “No Papa!” He gave a head fake and struck off in another direction to extend the game. Papa obliged for a few more minutes and finally apprehended the child who was, at this point, weak from his own laughter. Papa carried the little guy into the bedroom to change his diaper and wash his face. “I got you”, he smiled to Ethan who laughed and nuzzled into Papa and enjoyed the carry into the other room.

However, Ethan’s compliance was short lived. His cute and cuddly act was just a ruse to allow him to catch his breath and bait Papa into letting down his guard. Ethan gave a few half-hearted efforts to wrestle free from the bed while Papa was getting ready to change him. Each time, he would give less and less resistance and then finally lay still as if to suggest cooperation. No doubt, this was in order to further convince Papa that Ethan was surrendering to the process… his plan was working.

Papa took another look at Ethan’s messy face. It was a virtual menu of the junk food and snacks in the candy dishes and pantry. This was too incriminating… better hurry and wash all that off. He left his suddenly accommodating grandchild on the bed as he walked a few steps away to the bathroom to dampen a washcloth so he could restore Ethan’s innocent appearance. Ethan waited…waited… listened for it… then he was off!

As soon as Ethan heard the sound of the faucet turning on, he sprung from the bed and raced for the bedroom door. In one swift motion, he reached for the handle, spun to his left, and pulled the door shut behind him as he fled the room laughing hysterically. He was sure one barrier would not be enough. His plan called for a much more thorough escape. He continued on to the back door, pulled the latch handle, and pulled the door open. Freedom awaited beyond the threshold.

Ethan ran outside onto the backyard patio and pulled the door closed behind him. He could barely stand from laughing so hard. He was pleased. His plan had worked. His face remained dirty; his diaper, unchanged. “Ethan!” It was Nana. She had been in the backyard and had seen him fly out the door. He was so delighted with himself that he was not at all concerned that he’d been caught. He explained his escape to Nana between fits of giggles. The back door opened. Papa peered out, damp washcloth in hand. Any frustration he may have felt was melted away by the joyful expression on Ethan’s face. Papa looked down at his youngest grandson. There was nothing he would change about that face.

Thanks for coming along for the ride!

There it was… just a few hundred feet away from us. The tide was low, and the playful waves slapped eagerly at the sand as if to beckon us for a swim. Jaden and Dillon ran ahead with their cousin Annabella, pausing every so often to investigate a lonely shell or some forgotten treasure stranded by the higher tides.  The air was warm around us. There was a refreshing presence to it and a sense of moisture without the weight and density of the thick humidity I had expected… a welcome departure from the thin dry air of the Arizona desert. We pressed on toward the anxious waves.

The beach was ours. We searched the shoreline for the perfect location to lay down the blankets and buckets and toys. The ocean rolled along beside us in chase. The boys were eyeing the water… drawing closer to touch the outstretched tips of water before they receded from the sand. The waves appeared as children themselves; hardly breaking at heights above my waist. They were the perfect playmates, and the invitation to play was impossible for the kids to resist. In a flash, Jaden, Dillon, and Annabella were dressed in their swimwear and sprinting into the waves that were rolling, in kind, to greet them. Ethan sat reclined and asleep in his stroller. Gianna was enjoying the sand and was content to leave the water play to her sister and cousins…at least for a while.

Kendra and I didn’t come prepared to swim. I was sure the water would be too cold. We’d been to the Pacific in June and found the water to be chilly at times. Certainly the Atlantic in October wouldn’t be any warmer. But, we brought gear for the boys just in case. They are drawn to ocean, and we figured there would have to be ice floes in the water before they would consider staying put on the beach. Well, maybe not ice floes. Ice floes with polar bears on them…probably. So, while it did not surprise me to see our boys wrestling with the waves, I didn’t take Annabella as the type to endure frigid water temperatures unnecessarily. She had regular access to the beach and would have plenty opportunity to play in warm water. I figured there was no way she would play that long if the temperature was uncomfortable. This water must not be as cold as I thought. I had to investigate.

I stepped into the rushing tide. It was like stepping into a bathtub that was drawn and left to sit a little too long: still a lingering warmth that is enough to enjoy, but just cool enough that it doesn’t stay with you very long when you step out of the water. For an ocean in October, that is a tough temperature to beat. I joined Gianna for some short wave hopping while the others played in slightly deeper waters. Pelicans circled jealously overhead. Every now and then one would splash down into the ocean and dart back up to the sky. A few landed a short way off and floated around to watch us. Maybe they were just fishing, but it seemed like they wanted to play. 

As we were preparing to leave for the day, I noticed a glimmer and a splash out of the corner of my eye. I looked out and studied the surface of the water for a few moments in an effort to locate the flash again. Just as I was turning to go, it appeared again. Just a few yards out from where the boys had been playing, a dolphin jumped out of the water… then three together. They were so curved and swift that it almost looked like a porpoise pinwheel in the water. The children called out to one another and took watch to find where the dolphins might surface next. The boys spotted them jumping and splashing a few more times and then the show was over. The ocean continued to swell gently and push little waves to the shore.

We returned to the beach a few days later. This time, it was the weekend and there were a few more visitors. The beautiful weather and temperate water were too much to pass up. Still, it was nothing that could be described as a crowd. There was ample beach for everyone, we had our choice of location, and the ocean was just as excited to see us as it had been two days before. This time, it even bore gifts.

Ethan and I spent some time in the shallow waves watching Kendra out in the deeper water with the boys playing and teaching them how to body surf.  We decided to go help Annabella and Gianna build sand castles. A few minutes later, the surfers had returned and Dillon proudly revealed a sand dollar he found in the ocean. We had never seen one alive before and were captivated by its tiny cilia moving uniformly to direct objects into what appeared to be mouths on either side of its body. When they were just slightly opened, the sand dollar resembled an apple pie with cooling vents sliced into the top crust.

We attempted to create a refuge for our sea pet. First, we used one of the sand toys, a sea horse mold. I felt like the poor guy (or gal?) was limited in motion by the shape of the toy, so Kendra dug a moat in the sand and filled it with water. “Sandy” seemed to do better in that environment and began to burrow a little into the sand. It blended in immediately. If it weren’t for the movement of the apple pie vents, we wouldn’t have known where it was. Ethan seemed to like the camouflage and excitedly began filling the sanctuary with sand. Luckily, we responded quickly and were able to rescue Sandy. We realized it was time to set him (her, it) free. Dillon took Sandy to the edge of the water to allow safe passage back to the ocean.

We found three more sand dollars that day. None of them were as interesting as Sandy. The boys found them while we were back in the water jumping into the waves. They would just squat down in the water and start feeling around, and in no time they would be pulling out another sand dollar (if only real dollars were this easy to come by). One had tiny crabs on its underside. They seemed to be unaware of the little mouths that they crawled so carelessly near. We watched it for a little while to see if either of the crabs would get eaten. No such luck. Another was smallish and slimy. It seemed very intent on returning to the ocean, so we obliged. We found a rather large one that looked like it would make a fine skipping stone… we resisted. Barely.

Those pelicans returned again looking for sport, but it was time for us to go. We took our time packing up our things in hopes that the dolphins would return to wave goodbye. They never showed. They must’ve sent Sandy to play instead. Hopefully he’ll give them our regards.

Thanks for coming along for the ride!

“What are these?” The agent pointed to the objects in the lunch box that had caused concern. I did my best to maintain a straight face as I explained the sport themed cold packs. The security guy didn’t seem too amused by the frozen football and soccer ball keeping the food cold. Apparently, they had begun to thaw, and the moisture played havoc on the screening machines. Eventually, he was able to laugh it off, so I was pretty sure I’d be avoiding the interrogation room.

After a quick stop at the terminal A Starbuck’s, we trekked over to the gate. The boarding process had begun, so we took our place in line. We had made it through the check in and security process and arrived at the plane on time. As we made our way down the Jetway, fatigue began to set in. Maybe I was too tired to continue to imagine the potential tantrums or episodes that could have turned the flight into airline incident worthy of national news coverage. But as I watched them board the plane and saw the excitement in their steps the little demons I had imagined faded away. I just saw tired little guys who were eager to fly on an airplane. I travel so often for work that “excited” would hardly be the adjective I’d use to describe my feelings when it comes to getting on a plane. Watching them take in the experience (Ethan flying for the first time) helped me see this trip in a different light. It began to feel fun again. Fresh… almost new. We found our seats.

Part of my strategy for the early morning flight was that I was hoping there would be empty seats around us. I figured that might tempt anyone who was assigned the aisle seat in either of our rows to seek refuge elsewhere. Just in case. Dillon and Kendra (and Ethan on the lap)  ended up with a free seat on their row. The gentleman next to me decided to move to give Jaden and I some extra space. Everything was coming together. I thanked him for his kindness and turned to watch Jaden staring out the window at the dewy airplanes waiting in the cloudy dawn. Ethan and Dillon were sharing the view from the row behind us. “Airplane!” Ethan shrieked. He was beside himself with joy and the full-toothed grin was plastered on his face. He made a few trips back and forth between our rows to make sure he saw all the angles of the planes to our right. When the time finally came to buckle up and prepare for take off, he popped his head over my seat and with his precious index finger pointed skyward yelled, “up!”

The plane ascended slowly through the clouds. They were so thick that at one point on the climb we could not see the wings outside our window. The smoky plumes washed over the plane and my nervousness and pessimism faded with them. The haze began to thin and visibility beyond the wings again became possible. A towering pillow of cotton and chalk appeared as the plane began to level. Jaden and Dillon dubbed it “Volcano Cloud”. It was shaped like El Capitan and appeared swollen as if it was ready to erupt streams of clouds across the sky. The boys imagined the possibilities of the contents of that cloud and wondered what we might find if we flew through it. Ethan was awestruck. He would point to himself and say “Up. High.” and raise his little hand above his head. This had to seem like magic to him…the boys were all locked in the zone… and I was right there with them.

After we flew beyond Volcano Cloud, we ventured into Cloud Valley. It was the Grand Canyon of clouds. The boys chattered in amazement. Mountains of clouds towered skyward and blocked the horizon. We would occasionally clip a peak and strands of cottony cliff would tumble across the wing. Hills rolled onward below us. Sporadic gaps in the tapestry exposed the brownish landscape below and it appeared that boulders spotted the snowy riverbed we traversed. We were explorers. Pioneers. Astronauts. Aliens. The metaphors abounded. 

None of us slept during those 4.5 hours. Kendra and I played the back and forth game with Ethan and took turns escorting the boys to the restroom for relief from their apple juice drinking binges. We would alternate imagining out the window and playing games or drawing in our notebooks. Exhaustion finally overtook them as we lifted off for our short flight from Charlotte to Charleston. Jaden and Ethan succumbed to sleep. Dillon soldiered on and stared silently out the window. His body was resting, but his eyes were searching the skies.

The weather was gorgeous when we landed in South Carolina. The stress from the check-in counter was thousands of miles away. My calculations were off. The combination of factors I identified did not result in disaster. Not even close. I didn’t care to ponder the error in my approach. The boys had behaved as boys their age would be expected to behave on a trip that long… definitely no worse, and quite possibly even better. They enjoyed themselves. We enjoyed ourselves. It was everything it should have been. I found myself smiling as I edged my way down the aisle to exit the plane. I couldn’t remember the last time I enjoyed air travel. But I realized we took a trip down a route we can never take again, and I was glad that I was able to see the mountains for the clouds.

Thanks for coming along for the ride!

Clouds hung low in the cool morning air. I wondered if the looming gray overhang bore any foreshadowing of the day’s events. The twins had already gained notoriety during a previous flight. This would be Ethan’s first time in an airplane, and he was ticketed as a lap child since he was under 2 years old. But at his size, and on a 4 1/2 hour flight (that was just the first leg) I wasn’t sure how long he would be staying in anyone’s lap. I was hearing signs of life from the backseat as the excitement for the trip began to percolate in the boys. Panic began to set in as the clouds appeared to darken. The equation became clear…[(2 + lap child) x (under rested + over excited)+ hungry] x (4.5 hour flight + 1 hour flight) = DISASTER. Yes. This could end poorly.

We pulled into the parking structure and spiraled upward to the 4th level. Parking was plentiful at 4:37AM so we secured a space near the elevator lobby. After unloading our gear, outfitting the boys with their backpacks, balancing the car seat on the handlebars of the stroller, and situating our laptops and roller-bags so their movement was coordinated we headed toward the ticketing counter to check in. The boys were all visibly excited by this time, and my thoughts turned to whether or not we would get individual holding cells or if they would lock us up together once they hauled us off for causing a riot on the plane… I blinked away the images and tried to focus on positive thoughts.

There was barely a line at the check in counter (loving the ease of this early morning flight… so far) and we printed our boarding passes with ease. Then came time to check our bags. I lifted the first bag onto the scale: 42 lbs. Well under the 50 lb limit. No problem; tagged and whisked to the side. I looked over to the second bag. Kendra was able to get all of our stuff into these two bags…shoes, sweaters, books, toys, and changes of clothes for all of us for 6 days. We had some concerns about the weight of the larger bag, this bag. My thought was that if they both came in under 100 lbs it should even out. That makes sense, right? You check two bags, you get 100 lbs to play with. It shouldn’t matter if it’s 60/40, 70/30, 80/20, or 50/50! Well, it matters. Not so much to the plane, but to the poor attendant who has to lug those bags around and toss them onto the conveyer belts.

I lifted the bag onto the scale. Kendra and I were looking around like a couple of high school kids at a house party when the police arrived, hoping no one notices the beer can pyramid on the coffee table. They noticed. 54 lbs. Dang. My Doomsday scenario didn’t even consider a fiasco at the check-in counter! How bad could this potentially get? I was sure I would end the day sitting behind a 2-way glass.

So now what? do we pay the $50 fee for the heavy bag? No. Kendra gets the first bag from the agent and starts shuffling things around and moving things from the big bag to the small one. Of course, a line starts forming now as all the people who didn’t book flights at an ungodly hour are now starting to arrive early to check in. Kendra makes an adjustment and we slide the big bag back on the scale. 49 lbs! One of the baggage handlers who has been watching the shuffle steps over. The top lid of the bag was open causing a corner of the bag to hang on the edge of the scale. He flips the lid closed and adjusts it. 51 lbs. The agent is ready to give us the “close enough” when they have a side bar discussion, like two officials discussing a crucial penalty in the final seconds of a football game. I hear him say “50 lbs is 50 lbs”, and the ticket agent turns to us with the “I can’t hook you up because my manager is standing right here” face and tells us we need to make further adjustments or pay the fee. The line is growing.

Undaunted, Kendra returns her focus to lightening the load. Agents and nearby passengers are calling out recommendations “move the books”, “take that sweater”… sounded like an episode of Let’s Make a Deal (a show that not coincidentally featured my aforementioned mother-in-law). Kendra pulls through and successfully gets us to the 50 lb mark. Supermom tucked in her cape, grabbed the stroller, and we sped off toward security. As we headed to the agent podium, the sinking feeling grew. We were getting close now… We already had the stumbling block with the luggage. What would be next?

We undressed and went through Checkpoint Charlie in an orderly fashion. Kendra broke down the BoB and placed it on the conveyor belt. The hand pump fell out of the carrier basket on the way through. A security agent called another over to examine. I knew this would be it… they laughed it off and helped us get our stuff together. I began to relax a little and thought maybe there would be no catastrophe at all. Maybe this trip would go smoothly and the boys would be fine for those 4.5 hrs. They would probably just fall asleep when the excitement wore off. Yeah. Nothing to worry about. “Sir, I need you to step over to that table so we can look through these bags”. I turned to see a security agent holding Jaden’s and Dillon’s backpacks. I looked over to them. Stone faced. They had their story together, no doubt. I was thinking that I would probably need my own representation if I were to avoid hard time. I was fairly sure Kendra would sell me out for the kids… she would have to. I headed over to the security table imagining what they might end up finding in those bags and wondering if my mind was awake enough to talk my way out of it. Yeah. I was pulling for the individual holding cells.