Right now I am remembering the days when our babies were small enough to stand on our laps and play. When they tried to balance on wobbly legs as they reached out to touch our faces…. maybe pinch a cheek or grab the nose. When they were all drool and wide eyes soaking up the world behind angelic faces and mops of hair. Right now the little girl is back to her bottle, and mom is probably thinking she is looking forward to getting her off of that thing one day. And she probably means it. Right now.

Right now the baby has a grasp on mommy’s wrist with one hand, and mommy’s thumb with the other. She is enjoying the bottle and drifting off to sleep. Off to dream baby dreams and enjoy her place on mommy’s lap, where she fits so comfortably. Right now. And I miss my boys. And I remember watching Kendra hold them for the first time. And I remember Logan calling me “dad” for the first time. And I remember knowing my life had changed so much for the better. I am so proud of all our sons and their development in life so far. I just sometimes wish I could go back and hold on to those moments… hold on to them… instead of just holding on to memories…. like right now.

Right now Logan is almost done with his first day of high school. Jaden and Dillon are now second-graders. Right now this mom is several years away from having to deal with saying those good-byes. Right now she won’t have to worry about planning the right things to say, but somehow getting caught up in the rush of a morning and not quite getting the right words out in just the right way. She won’t have to worry if they all went off into their new environments armed with the message she hoped to deliver….not right now.

Right now the little girl has fought off sleep. She is rubbing her eyes and picking at a new wafer. Mom is yawning. Right now she’d probably like them both to get some rest. But right now she is enjoying her daughter. Maybe she realizes how quickly all this will pass. Maybe she understands how much she will appreciate this moment some day. Maybe she realizes she is sitting among other parents who would give anything to hold their babies in their laps again… or have their children with them on this flight. Right now.

Baby has droopy eyes. Sleep will have its victory soon. But she is managing to smile through it right now. Logan and Jaden and Dillon are off facing new challenges and learning to handle their new experiences. They are focused on the events of their days. But as they go, whether they realize it or not, they remain in my and Kendra’s hearts and minds. Not only today, but every day…. and especially right now.

Thanks for coming along for the ride….

Kiss your kids

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…

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…

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!

October 20th, 2009: Logan turned 14. The plan was for me to meet the family for dinner after work at Logan’s choice of restaurant (as is tradition on birthdays), this time Joe’s Real BBQ, and then he and I were going to go run a few birthday related errands. He had just come back from Lake Havasu with his grandparents and some family friends; we had just returned from South Carolina with the younger kids. I was unsure of what to expect. I wanted to really catch up and have a discussion with him that wasn’t on anything superficial. It just seemed like a while since we had connected. A couple years ago, we made a point of going out for lunch once a month or so, just he and I. Those were good “check-in” opportunities. I didn’t worry about “how” to talk to him back then; I just talked to him. And he talked back.

I think I had been building this 14 year milestone up in my mind for a while…as if some cloud would appear and darken his mood and transform him into some brooding teenage malcontent that I would be unable to reach. Thirteen had come and just about gone without any “teenager” episodes, but as October approached I was dreading the changing of the year… waiting for the shoe to fall. It may have affected my conversations with him. I was probably more direct and pointed in my interactions in anticipation of resistance. And, in anticipating resistance, I received it. This always made the first few moments of any conversation I initiated very awkward. I didn’t want to go through that with him again, and especially not on the night of his birthday dinner. So, I thought carefully about how I would fill those critical first moments.

Dinner that evening went as dinners out usually do… a little bit of excitement and chaos surrounding good company, and a wide variety of splintered conversations. After dinner we all enjoyed a spirited game of tag in the grassy courtyard, and then it was time to tackle our list. Logan and I helped Kendra get the younger boys situated and then we were off to be on our own. I was looking forward to it. I had a plan. I made note of the typical conversational topics that I would lead off with that would ultimately result in either an argument or absolute catastrophe and made certain that I did not lead off with any of those. I realized that I had basically been running status checks with him – “How was school?” “Do your homework?” “How are your grades in X class?” “What did you get on your test?” “Did you take care of X like I asked you to?” – all rules and compliance questions… nothing at all to indicate I was the least bit interested about him. Plus, if the responses weren’t what I was expecting, the conversation would deteriorate. Quickly. (It gets better. Honest.)

The transition from knowing where your kids are all the time and knowing what they are doing and who they are with to having them gone for significantly longer than you have them around happens SO swiftly. There is no warning or trial adaptation period. It just happens to you, and not always when you think it might. The reality of Logan being in Eighth Grade was affecting me. I thought I had been dealing with it fine, but I realize my reaction was to try to focus on what I saw as blind spots or areas I thought he might not see as needing more attention. This was clearly not the best reaction, but it was how I reacted. So, after finally realizing that I exercise more diplomacy in dealing with my employees than my own son, I knew I had to abandon my approach and introduce some flexibility in my communication. It wasn’t that I would avoid those status topics. I just made it a point that I would not lead off with them.

We sat down in the car, and I was ready. I had a list of things in my mind that I had decided I wanted to know by the end of our conversation. Delete. I knew if I tried to structure the conversation, I would end up resorting to my usual questions (see the first sentence of this post). It was silent for a few seconds as we buckled up and I started the car. I wanted to start things off on the right foot but I was drawing blanks. It was excruciating. I looked over at the curious teenaged creature in my passenger seat and suddenly remembered being there. I just talked to him like I would have wanted someone to talk to me back then. I just wanted the approval of my parents, a safe environment to learn and grow, time with my friends, advice when I sought it, and some slack when I made mistakes. I wasn’t complicated. There were no “tricks” to communicating with me, and there weren’t any for Logan either. He’s just a kid. A taller, lankier kid with longer hair and a cracking voice, but a kid nonetheless. And just being 14 didn’t change that. I just needed to approach him

He was holding a CD that he received for his birthday. “Hey, is that the White Album?” “Yeah, Grandma got it for my birthday. You want to listen to it?” “Oh yeah, throw it in.” We drove around and completed our errands to the tunes of the Beatles. We covered everything in conversation from music, to friends, to girls, to sports, to politics (I’ve got some work to do). We even covered the dreaded “status check” items. But, since they came up during the course of the conversation and were not introduced with any hostility or argument, there was no angst. We didn’t fill every second in the car with conversation. There was no need. We spoke when something occurred to one of us and carried the topic through until it was completed or trumped by one tangent or another. It was comfortable. It was informative. It was enjoyable.

I hate that the obvious points are the ones that seem so difficult for me to identify and grasp sometimes. This situation had been building for months, and I was too foolish to see how easily it could have been remedied. Either that, or I was just too lazy to do something to address it. Whatever the case, it seems too common a condition. I observe parents interacting with their children at every opportunity. It is all too easy to see when it is observed in someone else. I only wish I could learn to see my own reflection in those interactions much sooner. But, at least it has been resolved.

I did have to adjust my communication style… just not because of some teenage condition. I allowed that excuse to perpetuate my reaction to him growing up and me choosing to focus on the status items instead of taking the time to have a real conversation. The reality is he wanted to have the talk. He was willing to share information on everything I asked him about, he just needed the opportunity to share it. He is growing up, and it is a fantastic thing. I don’t have to transform into some gregarious raconteur in order to have a discussion with Logan just because he is 14 and heading to high school next year. I do have to give him room to learn and grow, set a good example, tell him what he needs to hear, let him know he is safe to make mistakes, talk to him like I’d expect him to talk to me, and let him know he is always loved. This isn’t a new style; it is just the reintroduction of the old one.

He popped in the second disc on the way home. I didn’t see the CD case so I had no idea what was about to come on. I had to chuckle when I heard the music begin.

They say it’s your birthday, it’s my birthday too yeah

The teenager I spent the evening running errands with bore a strange resemblance to this four-year old I used to know; this was just a taller, lankier version of the same wonderful kid I’ve been blessed to know and love for the past ten years… with a slightly deeper voice.

I’m glad it’s your birthday, happy birthday to you!

I thought about the things that might constitute evidence…like, what would I consider the actions of a good father? What model or standard would I hold as the yardstick for my evaluation? I consider my dad to have done a good job with us so far (he’s not off the hook yet, I still have quite a few things to learn from him). When I think about why, I can readily think of examples of situations and a lot of intangibles that revealed themselves over time. When I attempted to turn those things into some type of a scale, everything became so subjective or ambiguous. But at least I had some instances and some qualities that I knew I could recognize as evidence. So I thought about my actions and motivations…do I spend enough time with them? do I make the time I spend matter? what am I doing with and for my children? The old standbys I provide for my kids; I love my kids; I take care of my kids, don’t count as evidence. As Chris Rock aptly reminded us, “You’re supposed to!”. You don’t get points simply for showing up… you just don’t. And as with the “leadership” exercise, it becomes easy to look back at actions and moments and see those things in a positive light. It is common for us to look at the things we do through our own paradigm or applied rationale. We can justify just about anything… but if someone else saw it, would they see it the same way? If I sat nodding, satisfied with myself and the job I’ve done as a dad would someone else look on in disagreement? More importantly, would my kids agree?

That one’s tough… At any given point I could be way behind or way ahead, or even both at the same time with a different son. Since the evaluation is ongoing, and the opportunities to fail are infinite, I would have to focus on the long term effect. I thought about how to make the biggest impact over time. Then I realized the long term is made up of all the little moments along the way. So back I went to square one… how do I know I am doing the right things and stringing together enough of the little things to make sure the boys are getting the experiences they need? How do I amass enough evidence? I thought about my dad and what he had done. He was a father figure to a few of my friends growing up. He shouldered a lot of load and did it willingly and without complaint. All the life lessons, the support, the encouragement, the correction, the discipline, the drive, the love, the consistency…there were GIANT things he did that I cannot begin to hope to accomplish and to mean to my kids. I didn’t know how to build that type of evidence. There just didn’t seem to be a way to the top of that mountain. But then, after weeks of wrestling with this in my mind, I saw a path.

It was an unexpected realization and it came along, unassuming and ordinary, in the way of a series of overheard phone conversations. My friend Jim received a call on his cell phone. It wasn’t a long call; maybe 2 or 3 minutes. At first I thought it was his wife calling… he had the smiles and nods working with the occasional “uh-huh…mmhmmm…yes…yeah…oh really?” that men tend to throw around when we are getting an update on something and we really aren’t focused because we are in the middle of something else but we don’t want to seem obviously rude (or so I’ve heard). We were on our way out the door to a football game so I figured he was just hurrying the call along. But when I looked over to him, he was focused… and he was paying attention…standing still in the middle of the room. It was Ryan, his son and oldest child, who had called. A few minutes later, Ryan called again and took his dad through another rapid fire conversation. Jim had recently introduced Ryan to Star Wars, and Ryan was hooked. Understandably. He was calling with questions about characters in his Lego Star Wars game and looking for some insight into his dad’s preference of Sith and bounty hunters. Jim was a pro… patient and engaged, and enjoyed every moment of it. 

It took a little while for it to sink in… I probably didn’t realize it  until after the game when he talked with Ryan again and they recapped and celebrated over the phone… and then I recalled the phone message the two of them left me the week before after the Broncos beat my Cowboys. It is odd to say, but I had never felt so good about receiving trash talk in my life. It was like a professional act; the two of them handing the phone back and forth without missing a jab…like Run DMC alternating lines and flowing over beats. I even played it for Kendra. She was impressed as well. She asked how frequently they place these phone calls because the message seemed so natural, yet well rehearsed. I even paused a full 2 seconds before hitting the delete command (they were trash talking my Cowboys after all… couldn’t keep that message). I digress… but remembering that, and hearing those conversations provided a lot of perspective for me. That was evidence. He’s a good dad. I could convict him on those interactions alone. If you saw his face when he got off the phone or watched him when he spoke to his son you would have no reasonable doubt. It is evident that he loves his kids and takes his role seriously. But if I asked him about that day I doubt he’d see it the way I just relayed it… and I think that is part of the point.

I wasted time worrying about trying to create evidence when all I had to do was do the things that I should be doing in the first place – being there, being accessible, having fun, playing games, interacting, being dad. The lessons will come. They are inevitable. Every encounter does not have to end in some profound revelation. I knew that. I forgot that. I hope I can keep from getting in my own way too often. Jim is a good dad. I am proud to say that I have many friends that have turned out to be good dads. Some are photographers and can capture images and moments that communicate their adoration and clearly illustrate the focus of their children in their lives. Some are outdoors guys and take every opportunity to seize free moments and spend time in nature with their kids and sharing that appreciation with them. Some are good listeners and spend time in front of their kids hearing what they have to say and giving them attentive audiences and acting as sounding boards. Some are sports guys and provide lessons in the value of competition and the benefits of failure. Some guys sacrifice and give up all they have and know to provide a different reality for their kids than the one they knew growing up. Some are all of these things, and some are more. I am just a guy with a keyboard who wants to make the most of his opportunity at fatherhood, and who is very blessed to have so many examples of evidence right in front of me. From my father, to my brother, to my friends…the path is clear. Am I guilty of being a good dad? I don’t know. But I know that every day I try to do better, and I am not going to waste any more time searching for evidence right now.

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!

I learned that all three of us would rather be trapped inside a book than trapped in a movie (the book would allow our imaginations to make the people and scenery and voices take on different characteristics). I learned that we’d all rather have ice cream for breakfast than eat junk all day (all that junk would make us feel sick and slow).

I also came to realize that I would rather eat 100 pieces of tree bark than an entire plank of wood…that I’d rather fall from a cloud than from a mountain… that I would rather eat a giant bowl of worms than live under ground.

The scenarios came tumbling out one after the other, “dad, would you rather…”, “…you can’t say neither!” Their imaginations knew no bounds. I was supposed to be saying goodnight and putting them to bed but once we took that first step toward the hypothetical, there was no turning back. The three of us lay there staring up at the ceiling as we contemplated our options and rationalized our decisions. We laughed so hard at some of the choices we made up that we’d get consumed by the ridiculousness of it all and confuse which options were paired with one another.

Eventually we just started cheating and slightly altering the situations, making little amendments here and there whenever we saw an opportunity to add conditions, or trying find an out: “when you say ‘burned by the dragon’, do you mean burned burned or just kind of toasted?”; “if I had a parachute…”; “you didn’t say for how long!”; and of course, “no, because that’s cannibalism”.

Our philosophical musings eventually gave way to delusions of grandeur. We discussed our superhero names and laid claim to our individual super powers. Jaden became Super J, destroyer of evil with x-ray and laser eyes. Dillon chose laser eyes as his power. He said he wouldn’t need to see through things, he would just make them explode, and then he wouldn’t need to see through. He wasn’t sure about a name… I suggested Wonder Dillon. The look he responded with can probably best be described as pity, mixed with some shame, and peppered with disappointment. It was almost as if it hurt him physically just a little bit to hear that come out of my mouth. He took a deep breath and rolled into a backwards somersault and said, “I’m not going to be Wonder Dillon”. Well then.

Fatigue had set in, (also my convenient justification of his swift dismissal of my super hero name for him) and it was time to go to sleep. They pulled up their covers and rolled around in search of the comfort spot. I stepped out into the hall to the sound of quiet laughter.

I woke up today and tried furiously to remember all the scenarios we came up with…most of them escaped me. The house was silent as I headed past the bedrooms of sleeping boys and downstairs to leave for work. I knew what I would rather do…

Thanks for coming along for the ride… kiss your kids.

She managed to relay the details of the drop off: the tears, the screams, the clutching on. The mournful wails that could be heard from within the house as she forced herself out the door hurry the boys off to school. I could picture his little outstretched arms and his bottom lip in fully pouted curl with his face streaked with tears. But I knew it wouldn’t last (or at least I really, really hoped it wouldn’t) and I attempted to console Kendra and committed to calling the house to check on him and provide a swift update. She drove on with the boys toward school… somehow weaving her grief into some type of rationalized contempt for me for having suggested or agreed to dropping Ethan off in the first place (As a man, I don’t try to understand these things, I just learn to recognize the warning signs).

I waited about 5 minutes to place the call. I needed her to be far enough down the road that she wouldn’t turn around if he was still crying (I hoped) and long enough for E to settle down and allow the Papa magic to take effect. The minutes crept past. I could feel my future growing more dim with each passing moment…her hatred was building…I was growing weak. I hit the speaker button. My eyes grew heavy and tight as I punched the telephone numbers. My head was cloudy. Did I dial correctly? How could I be sure? The phone rang. It sounded distant. I knew if I heard crying on the other end of the line, that morning may well have been my last. Ringing…ringing. “Hello?”

Silence in the background! Grim death released me from its tightening vice. “Hey dad”, I was able to respond as the strength quickly returned to my voice. “Everything Ok?” I asked. “He’s fine. We are doing fine. He’s just sitting up here hanging out with me. We’re about to go play soccer in the backyard.” Well played Papa… Ethan can hardly resist when the sports card gets pulled. So began their day. They kicked the soccer ball, explored the house, had some snacks, and watched a little TV. They had always been buddies, but this experience was giving them a chance to bond on an individual level and in a new setting. I texted Kendra the news. All was well, and she was able to focus and enjoy her time in the classroom. When I came home from work, I asked Ethan if he had a fun day. His response: “Papa”. “What did you do with Papa?” He jumped down and thrust his leg forward, “Kick!”

The following Tuesday saw a similar series of events. The initial meltdown was drastically less severe, and the sensations of panic and imminent doom decreased substantially. Ethan went through the motions, but was soon playing and into his routine. The next week included only a pouty face that never produced a tear or a wail. The week after that, nothing; and nothing since. He just settles in and takes command, directing my parents from room to room and playing games.  When it is time to go outside, he runs after Papa, “Ball! Ball!”, then runs to the door. Sometimes he let’s Nana play, but most days she gets to watch. When it is time to relax, Papa joins him on the patio swing. Nana is always welcome to sit on the other furniture. Sometimes she gets to swing too; but Papa goes first. At lunch, he selects three pictures (I’m told it’s always the same three) to join him at the kitchen island: a wedding picture of Kendra and me; a wedding picture of Kendra and our niece; and a picture of him and Papa.

I never had a routine like this. I didn’t know either of my grandfathers. I did get to spend a little time with my grandma’s husband, Daddy Walter when we traveled out to visit them a couple times. He was always so tired from working. He would sit in his chair in his big blue overalls and fall asleep. He’d alternate between snoring loudly and grinding his teeth. So much so that he would wake himself up sometimes. He didn’t say much, but every word I remember him saying to me was kind. I’d sit and watch him and think about how hard his life was and imagine the horrible things he probably had to endure every day. He had big coarse hands. I always thought they looked like they could smash bricks. When he’d pat me on the head, his palms would be soft and heavy. It was like anvils with pillows lowering down. When he died, I felt like I missed out on a lot that I could have learned from him.

I have no association for the emotions that are tied up in these Tuesday morning sessions. It’s like I am outside looking in on them when I hear about their day or when I see Ethan light up when he looks at Papa’s picture on our wall. But I don’t feel left out or cheated. I just feel amazed. I never knew the magic in that kind of a relationship first hand, but now we have a day for it. I am appreciative for the opportunity we have for our kids to interact with their grandparents and for my dad to be able to enjoy playing with his grandkids.  Eventually, the routine will change, but for now Ethan begins to look forward to Tuesdays like he looks forward to hunting the moon every night (and I do mean EVERY night). When I wonder what these Tuesdays will mean to him when he is older and thinks back on his relationship with Papa, I think about him eating lunch with his three pictures by his side. He brings them all to the table, but there’s only one that he picks up to kiss.

Thanks for coming along for the ride…