Today marks the thirteenth anniversary of our wedding. Thirteen years of hopes and dreams, trials and tribulations, health and sickness, boon and misfortune. And through it all, we have had each other.
Today is what I will call ideal for the thirteenth wedding anniversary. You save the big events for the tenth, twenty-fifth, etc. The thirteenth should be more about your life together, and celebrating the every day success.
We started the morning late. The kids were supposed to be at Vacation Bible School by 9:00. I finally started waking everyone up at 7:30. We made it in time by some sort of miracle.
When your son is a late-talker, every situation in which you will leave him with others is a reason for trepedation. Will he be alright? Will he act okay? Will he be able to communicate his needs, and will they be able to communicate expectations? At a certain point, though, you have to move beyond the fears. Sending him off to VBS is one of these steps for us.
With the kids gone until 11:15, we head out to breakfast. It isn't glamorous, but I recommend the place that I went on the morning of our wedding, and where we would return for dinner that night in our mad rush to the airport. Does anyone remember?
Anyway, breakfast was spent in remembrances. Stories of the wedding, our first apartment, and wedding preparations. We talked. We remembered the good, the bad, and the wet.
After breakfast, it was off to some stores for some minor errand running. Again, time spent as a couple looking at potential purchases without potty breaks or random disappearances. We actually browsed, which means that we read the product descriptions instead of frantically grabbing items off shelves. We played "what-if" and analyzed options.
It was almost 11:15, and it was time for us to be a family unit again. The stress sets in, "How do you think he did?" We drive to pick up the kids.
Walking into the church, we are greeted by a good friend who is working this VBS session. The first thing out of her mouth? "He did great!" Glowing like parents who knew they had outstanding children, we recover our pair and drive for home. We even loaded up the CD of VBS music and listened to piping voices from the back seat.
Mundane time follows. While I feed the hungry mouths, my better half does yard work. We relax, reset from the morning, and prepare for the afternoon.
It's 2:00, and it's time for the next stage. We head to a local nature trail to investigate northwest plant life, watch for beavers (saw none), and marvel over a tree with massively exposed roots. We tromp, walk, meander, and explore. We breathe the fresh air, and listen to the trees.
All-to-soon, it's time to drop back into city life. We drive out of sweet leaf air and sighing branches into smog and traffic noise. This is where we live.
At home, we clean up a bit in preparation for dinner. The kids snack, so as to not want dinner later. Such is the frustration of parenthood. "Do we feed them now, or do we deal with the potential of overly hungry grumpiness?"
Next, it's dinner. A local family-friendly Italian restaurant. Not marvelous food, not expensive prices, not an incredible wine list, not fancy enough that our some-times-over-active boy will bring the glowers of fellow patrons and kitchen-corner table assignments from the staff.
Instead, we are treated to outtdoor seating (a marvel in Western Washington), great service, and animated family-table conversation. Due to pre-thinking on my wife's behalf, we got a seventy dollar meal (with wine) for $36 (including tip and tax). Score!
Then it's home again for a nice walk around the neighborhood. The boy is learning to ride his tricycle, and is actually showing promise. The daughter shows dedication to exercise by doubling her walk (once on a scooter, once in a run with me.)
And now, I write while she waters the lawn. The kids are winding down by playing with friends. We all feel the gratitude and happiness of a solid day of togetherness.
This is my idea of starting a thirteenth year of marriage off right.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Parenting Lessons
Some parenting lessons need to be archived for historical reference. For example, I submit the following discussion from this morning.
R: Is your mommy still in bed?
C: Yes.
R: Please go upstairs and tell her to get up. It's after 7:00.
[Time passes.]
R: So, did she get up?
C: Yep, she got in the shower...Why does mommy like to sleep in?
R: It's just one of those things about mommy. When you are a teenager you'll do the same thing. I'm warning you now, I'm probably going to have to yell at you a lot.
C: Oh.
R: And, when I decide to stop yelling, I'll dump water on you.
C: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! [Thinks for a moment] But, when I'm a teenager, I get my birthright.
Pause here for a second. It's entertaining to note that my daughter's diction is not quite accurate just yet. So, when she says "birthright" it comes out as "burfright". To which I respond "Your what?"
C: My birthright. You know, when you and mom are old, and I get all the stuff.
R: [walking out the door to work] Don't hold your breath, kid. There ain't anything to give.
R: Is your mommy still in bed?
C: Yes.
R: Please go upstairs and tell her to get up. It's after 7:00.
[Time passes.]
R: So, did she get up?
C: Yep, she got in the shower...Why does mommy like to sleep in?
R: It's just one of those things about mommy. When you are a teenager you'll do the same thing. I'm warning you now, I'm probably going to have to yell at you a lot.
C: Oh.
R: And, when I decide to stop yelling, I'll dump water on you.
C: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! [Thinks for a moment] But, when I'm a teenager, I get my birthright.
Pause here for a second. It's entertaining to note that my daughter's diction is not quite accurate just yet. So, when she says "birthright" it comes out as "burfright". To which I respond "Your what?"
C: My birthright. You know, when you and mom are old, and I get all the stuff.
R: [walking out the door to work] Don't hold your breath, kid. There ain't anything to give.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Utterly Speechless
It takes quite a bit to astound me enough that I have nothing to say. I usually have a quick comeback to anything. Thursday, however, I was rendered speechless twice, for different reasons. First, the negative:
I have worked guide dogs for seventeen years now. I’ve had dogs approach, bark, and even once had one try to mount my guide. In all cases, however, the dog was the only problem. The people, who either should have been or still were attached to the offending animal, always tried to help the situation.
Thursday night, I left work around 4:30 (my normal time). I headed out of the building in high spirits. The kids were with grandma and papa for the weekend, the weatherpredictions promised improvement, and I was finishing a somewhat successful day at work. We reached the bus stop a little ahead of schedule, so I settled in to wait.
Across the street was a lady that I’ve noticed before. She walks her three yappy smallish dogs from time-to-time, and has generally kept them to the other side of the road from us. We get a few interesting folks around my workplace, and her pack is certainly part of the local color.
This day, however, at least one of the dogs decided that barking incessantly and annoyingly from across the street was not enough. So, it proceeds to streak across the road, just in front of an oncoming car.
Now, you have to understand that I didn’t see exactly what happened on the other side of the road. It’s fully possible that the dog slipped its leash, and got away. It’s also possible that the leash was present (it would come into play later) but was currently experiencing a nice break from its duties. Another interesting point is that, though the dog darted toward, then past, certain oblivion, the lady had no real comment until later. In fact, the next thirty-to-forty-five seconds in which I attempted to keep my dog calm in the face of an onrushing bundle of fun provoked no comment from across the street.
Finally, however, the lady realized/decided to acknowledge the fact that her pet was forty feet away, and was being a larger annoyance than usual. Her response? A leisurely walk across the street, and a “Get your butt over here.”
She walked straight up to us, but made no real effort to corral the dog that was now jumping around, and on, my dog. In fact, to make a long story shorter, I will curtail the next three to four minutes into a single sentence: She at no time attempted to leash her dog, but she did ask it “Are you ready to be leashed now?”
Why was I speechless? Why didn’t I ask her if she liked having her dogs be a public nuisance that were currently involved in the commitment of the crime of harassment? Because I was simply astounded that she would react in the way that she was! Admittedly she did tell the dog, once or twice, that it was not to play with a working dog. Strangely, the dog didn’t comprehend this message.
So, finally, my bus arrives. She says, as it drives up, “Here’s your bus, I am sure you’re happy to see it coming.” I could only grunt in response.
And, to finish this story and leave the negativity behind, I’ll close it off by saying that the dog followed us onto the bus, and my dog proceeded to puke all over the floor due to rattled nerves. Be assured that, should I encounter this lady again, my voice will not fail me.
Okay, bad stuff over. I get home, and decide to call over to my parents to see if they are tired of my children yet. (they weren’t.)
I think that I have previously noted here that my son is a late talker. (I’d look it up to be sure, but I’m lazy.) This means that, even at four-and-a-half, he’s still only using a few words, and even those are not always directed. Getting him to communicate with you using words is very difficult.
So, I call my parents, find out that they are having fun, and then ask to talk to my son. My mom has us on speaker phone, and I very distinctly hear my son say, “Hi, Dada!” Not only clear words, but two in a sequence based on the improbable communication medium of the telephone. Not only that, but he said it to me, without prompting.
I was floored. I nearly cried. And I didn’t know what to say. It’s been over four years, but finally I couldn’t say anything, while he said more than enough.
I have worked guide dogs for seventeen years now. I’ve had dogs approach, bark, and even once had one try to mount my guide. In all cases, however, the dog was the only problem. The people, who either should have been or still were attached to the offending animal, always tried to help the situation.
Thursday night, I left work around 4:30 (my normal time). I headed out of the building in high spirits. The kids were with grandma and papa for the weekend, the weatherpredictions promised improvement, and I was finishing a somewhat successful day at work. We reached the bus stop a little ahead of schedule, so I settled in to wait.
Across the street was a lady that I’ve noticed before. She walks her three yappy smallish dogs from time-to-time, and has generally kept them to the other side of the road from us. We get a few interesting folks around my workplace, and her pack is certainly part of the local color.
This day, however, at least one of the dogs decided that barking incessantly and annoyingly from across the street was not enough. So, it proceeds to streak across the road, just in front of an oncoming car.
Now, you have to understand that I didn’t see exactly what happened on the other side of the road. It’s fully possible that the dog slipped its leash, and got away. It’s also possible that the leash was present (it would come into play later) but was currently experiencing a nice break from its duties. Another interesting point is that, though the dog darted toward, then past, certain oblivion, the lady had no real comment until later. In fact, the next thirty-to-forty-five seconds in which I attempted to keep my dog calm in the face of an onrushing bundle of fun provoked no comment from across the street.
Finally, however, the lady realized/decided to acknowledge the fact that her pet was forty feet away, and was being a larger annoyance than usual. Her response? A leisurely walk across the street, and a “Get your butt over here.”
She walked straight up to us, but made no real effort to corral the dog that was now jumping around, and on, my dog. In fact, to make a long story shorter, I will curtail the next three to four minutes into a single sentence: She at no time attempted to leash her dog, but she did ask it “Are you ready to be leashed now?”
Why was I speechless? Why didn’t I ask her if she liked having her dogs be a public nuisance that were currently involved in the commitment of the crime of harassment? Because I was simply astounded that she would react in the way that she was! Admittedly she did tell the dog, once or twice, that it was not to play with a working dog. Strangely, the dog didn’t comprehend this message.
So, finally, my bus arrives. She says, as it drives up, “Here’s your bus, I am sure you’re happy to see it coming.” I could only grunt in response.
And, to finish this story and leave the negativity behind, I’ll close it off by saying that the dog followed us onto the bus, and my dog proceeded to puke all over the floor due to rattled nerves. Be assured that, should I encounter this lady again, my voice will not fail me.
Okay, bad stuff over. I get home, and decide to call over to my parents to see if they are tired of my children yet. (they weren’t.)
I think that I have previously noted here that my son is a late talker. (I’d look it up to be sure, but I’m lazy.) This means that, even at four-and-a-half, he’s still only using a few words, and even those are not always directed. Getting him to communicate with you using words is very difficult.
So, I call my parents, find out that they are having fun, and then ask to talk to my son. My mom has us on speaker phone, and I very distinctly hear my son say, “Hi, Dada!” Not only clear words, but two in a sequence based on the improbable communication medium of the telephone. Not only that, but he said it to me, without prompting.
I was floored. I nearly cried. And I didn’t know what to say. It’s been over four years, but finally I couldn’t say anything, while he said more than enough.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Achievements and Goals
I haven't blogged for a while, and this one will be really short. It seems that when I come up with a great idea to write about, I'm no where near a computer.
Anyway, today is my thirty-fourth birthday, and I wanted to capture a goal for the future.
In the week leading up to the end of the first third of my life, I achieved new heights with my personal strength.
Squat: 160# in 7 sets of 8
Bench: 200# in 3 sets of 8
Shoulder Press: 160# in 3 sets of 10
I finished all sets with a little left in the tank, which means continued progression. I've also noticed improved recovery times over the past couple of months, which helps keep the positive vibes flowing.
Now, the goal. Those numbers aren't terribly impressive. At sixty-eight (the end of the next third of my life) I want to record better totals. Not to much better, though, because achieving even more at one-hundred and two might be a little difficult.
Anyway, today is my thirty-fourth birthday, and I wanted to capture a goal for the future.
In the week leading up to the end of the first third of my life, I achieved new heights with my personal strength.
Squat: 160# in 7 sets of 8
Bench: 200# in 3 sets of 8
Shoulder Press: 160# in 3 sets of 10
I finished all sets with a little left in the tank, which means continued progression. I've also noticed improved recovery times over the past couple of months, which helps keep the positive vibes flowing.
Now, the goal. Those numbers aren't terribly impressive. At sixty-eight (the end of the next third of my life) I want to record better totals. Not to much better, though, because achieving even more at one-hundred and two might be a little difficult.
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