(I’m listening to “My Hometown” by Bruce Springsteen)

When the wife and I have a weekday off together, we usually like to do something special. That something special is going out for breakfast as a family. We have a couple of “go to” spots that we enjoy. One of them is called Breakfast Inn.

We love Breakfast Inn for a number of reasons. It’s really kid friendly. Our kids are 3 and 1, so they’re pretty noisy, and they’re a lot like Hansel and Gretel; they leave crumbs and food everywhere. Whenever we go out to eat, we’re always asking servers for brooms and vacuum cleaners; but not at Breakfast Inn. It has concrete floors that clean right up, so we can usually fend for ourselves with a napkin or two. As for our noisy kids? The clanging of the dishes and silverware, the quiet hum of conversations, and the toy train that chugs around overhead, drown them out nicely.  There also isn’t a dress code.  For example; today, Littles wore her Santa robe and slippers and called herself, “Santa.”  Nobody batted an eyelash.  Everyone just rolled with it and called her Santa.  You can wear whatever you want.  Nobody cares.  It’s totally relaxed.  Breakfast Inn is also a bit nostalgic for us.  It’s the first place we got food from after our first daughter was born.  We needed good food, we needed a large amount, and we needed to feel like it was homemade.  Breakfast Inn was our choice.

 

Breakfast Inn is really a throwback to a different era. There isn’t a fancy sign, it hasn’t been updated in a little while, it’s dimly lit, except for the sun beaming into the windows, and you can almost see the cigarette smoke still hanging in the air from  when it was still legal to smoke indoors. It has its regular customers that come in to drink coffee and chew the fat with their friends. The servers have all been there for years. They’re kind, sweet, and chatty older ladies whose social boundaries are from a different era; before society got more uptight.  They’re not afraid to say how cute our kids are or even pat them on the head. It’s like grandma is taking my order. The best thing about them is they greet anyone that looks younger than them with a “Hiya Hon!” or a “How are ya, babe!”  It reminds me of my Aunt Gail. She lives on the East Coast and ran a diner when I was a kid. Whenever I talk to her, she greets me with a, “Hiya Hon! How ya doin?” in her thick New York accent. I absolutely love it. Some things in life I hope never change, and that’s one of them.

It’s also a throwback because nothing is computerized; it’s like we’re in 1985. Our order gets taken in pencil on one of those green note pads. They clip it to that rotating mechanism and the cook promptly spins it around, scans the order, and begins making your breakfast. I haven’t heard it yet, but I’m sure the cook says, “Order up!” when food is ready.  A few minutes before we’re done, the server puts our ticket on our table. I bring it up front to pay and they stab it onto a little tiny stake, punch in few numbers on the cash register, and an old school “ding” is heard as the till pops open.  It’s a great little place and it’s about a mile from our house.

The best part about Breakfast Inn, besides the people and the atmosphere, is the food.  It’s everything I would want in a breakfast.  The menu is huge, the portions are huge, and it’s incredibly tasty.  I order the usual.  It’s literally called “The Usual.”

It comes with choice of bacon, sausage, Canadian bacon, or ham, 2 eggs cooked any way you like, a pile of homemade hash brown, and choice of toast or pancakes or biscuits and gravy or tortillas.  I go with sausage patties, scrambled eggs, hash browns, and pancakes.  It’s amazing.  The sausage, eggs, and hash browns are great, but the pancakes are just unreal.  I don’t know what’s in them, but they taste like cake batter that an angel dipped its finger in.  That’s the best description I can give.  The order also shows up within 180 seconds from when you order it.  It’s almost like they can read my mind.  The wife likes the fact that her coffee is never cold.  Our server warmed her up at least 7 times today and of course, coffee is served out of those glass pots with the brown or orange spout.

Today, our 3-year-old got chocolate chip pancakes…I think, for the first time. She might have had them at home before.  Regardless, it’s like her two favorite things flattened into one.  We make pancakes at home and she just devours them; and that’s without the chocolate chips in there.  With them?  Who knows what her reaction would be.  Would she be in total shock?  Would she scream? Would she just spontaneously combust with joy?  Would she run three celebratory laps around the whole restaurant?  Any of those reactions would have been in play.  I had no idea.  Needless to say, it’s safe to say she loved them.

There were so many pancakes, we had to take some home.  She didn’t want to put them in the box.  She literally wanted to carry them in her hands.  Seriously, she didn’t want to let them out of her sight.  We had to reassure her they would be there when we got home, and they were.  They were tucked nicely into the Styrofoam box.  She had them later for dinner.

A couple of fun things happened today at Breakfast Inn.  The first was, the wife and I got to look into the future.  Sitting at the table next to us was a couple with two girls, ages 5 and 7; roughly the same distance apart as our two little ladies.  We chatted with them, and we could see a familiar look in their eye when they looked at our girls.  It was almost like a, “Yep, we’ve been there and done that before,” type of look.  Only, we couldn’t tell if it was endearing, or if they were glad to be done with that phase.  It didn’t matter.  We just watched as their girls ordered and we talked about how that will be us in 4 short years.  When that happens, I’m sure we’ll wonder where the time went, which is all the more reason to enjoy this phase now.

The second fun thing that happened at Breakfast Inn was Littles met a soldier.  Today was Memorial Day, and a few men were having coffee and chatting at a table while we were walking out.  The men were wearing hats that had their Navy service listed on them and Littles happened to say something to one of them as we walked by.  They struck up a conversation and the wife told Littles that gentleman she was talking to was a soldier, just like her grandpas and grandma were.  She told her that today was Memorial Day and that today was a special day to thank soldiers.  Littles thought that was really neat, but got a little shy when it came to thanking the solider.  So, the wife and I said thank you and made our way out of the door.

That’s the great thing about Breakfast Inn, you know what you’re going to get from a food standpoint and you know it’s going to be an experience.  It’s a throwback to a different era; a time when people talked to strangers, a time before people were too caught up in their phones, and a time when people just wanted to spend time together.  That’s what we did today.  We set our lives aside, spent quality time together as a family, and made some memories.  Not too bad for $28 plus tip.  We’re always happy to go to Breakfast Inn, and we’ll definitely be back.

(Listening to “Times of Trouble” by Temple of the Dog)

Sometimes, my 3-year-old knows my capacity for frustration.  I don’t know how, but she does, and I adore her for it.

The wife was at a business meeting tonight, so I got to do bedtime by myself.  It’s really not that big of a deal, but sometimes it can be a bit of an adventure getting an ever-moving 1-year-old, and a “not tired” 3-year-old to sleep.  It can be smooth as silk and other times all bets are off.  That’s just how it is with little kids.  The can be Jekyll, or they can be Hyde.

Usually, I really enjoy bedtime.  We get to read books, have snacks, sing songs, tell stories, do prayers, and snuggle.  It’s a special time for me.  I just love putting them down to sleep and tucking them in.  On rare occasions, it’s like a hostage negotiation to get them to do two of those things.  You want to just shut the door, walk out into the street, and scream. That’s really rare though.  Even so, I still enjoy doing our bedtime routine.

With that said, there’s one X-Factor when putting the kids down by myself.  Our cat, Whampy.  He has the magical ability to take a mildly annoying situation, and make me go out of my mind.  Usually, he’s a great companion.  He’s a cuddly tabby who just loves to roll up in a ball and snuggle.  He really is awesome and has a great personality.  He isn’t snotty and doesn’t just hide.  He likes being around us and he’s great with our kids.  They smother and “smoosh” him with their affection, and he doesn’t mind at all.  He loves sleeping with us.  About 5 minutes after I go to bed, I hear a couple of little meows, the door will creak open, and “Pfffff,” Whampy will land on the comforter, curl up in my legs, and go to sleep.  We love him and he’s a part of our family.  With that said, there are times where he is a complete butthead.  That’s what he was tonight.  The X-factor in full swing.

His dinner time is right at 7pm and if he doesn’t get his food, he lets you know about it by meowing up and down the hallway while you’re trying to put kids to bed.  Tonight, I tried to sidestep that landmine by feeding him a bit early because I knew I’d be busy putting the girls down at 7; but even after he ate, he still wanted to work his frustrating magic, and that’s what he did.

Tiny was a little fussy tonight because she had a late nap.  So I’m trying to rock her and she’s squirming all over the place, knocking her bottle away, scratching my face, and grabbing my beard.  It’s about a 2 out of 10 on my frustration scale.  She calmed down and just as she was dozing off, I hear, “Meow, meow, meow!’ all the way down the hall, followed by a creak of the door.  Tiny immediately went from dozing off, to wide-eyed, wanting to see her buddy.  That just took me to 4 out of 10.  I kicked him out of Tiny’s room, shut the door, and started rocking Tiny again. Big mistake.  Just as she was again getting sleepy, I hear, “Scratch, scratch, scratch!’ on the door.  It’s like nails on a chalkboard and instantly makes my blood boil.  Tiny immediately opened her eyes and looked at the door.  I’m at a solid 7 out of 10.  I got up, opened the door, and yelled at Whampy to scare him off.  I left the door cracked open so he wouldn’t scratch it and went back to getting Tiny to sleep.  Just as her eyes were getting heavy, he headbutts the door open and Tiny cocks her head around to see what’s going on.  Whampy just sits in the doorway with a “you’re going to pay attention to me whether you get that baby to sleep or not” look on his face.  Make that 8 out of 10.  Finally, I just power through.  I let him sit there, and Tiny starts to get droopy eyes once again before I set her down in her crib for the night.  She’s out for the count.  As I close the door and walk down the hall, Whampy gives me his last trick; he tries to get tangled up in my feet, sort of a special kitty middle-finger as icing on the cake.  Ugh.  Have fun in the basement.

Meanwhile, Littles, my 3-year-old, is supposed to be having quiet time in her room while all of this is going on.  Once quiet time is done, then it’s time for Littles’ nighttime routine.  She’s not having quiet time though.  While I was getting the finger from Whampy, Littles was sitting on the toilet.  I noticed, but I didn’t think much of it.  When I came back upstairs from bringing Whampy to the basement, Littles was all dressed and ready for bed.  I asked her if she went poop and she said excitedly, “You were mad at Whampy so, I DID ALL THE THINGS!” meaning, did her whole nighttime routine!  Her eyes were totally lit up with pride.  She said, “I went poop!  I brushed my teeth!  I drank my milk!  I put on jammies!”  Now, this NEVER happens.  I know she can do all those things, but she always asks for help.  Tonight she didn’t.  She knew I was frustrated, and she did it all herself.  She knew I was at my limit and she knew helping me would make my night.  It totally did.  I told her how proud I was of her and I told her how big of a girl she was.  She was smiling ear to ear.  She climbed right into bed with zero fuss.  We did our prayers.  We did our hugs and kisses.  I turned out the light and we said goodnight.  As I closed the door, I said, “I love you sweetheart.  Thank you for being such a big girl.”  She replied, “You’re welcome.  I love you too, daddy.”  My angel.

While my wife and I were execting our first child, one of my friends, who already had a kid, gave me the best piece of advice about parenting.  She told me, “Somehow, your kid will know your limit.  Just when you think you’re going to run out into the street screaming, they’ll be totally normal.”  “Totally normal” made us both chuckle.  The description was vague and I knew what she meant,  but I wouldn’t totally understand until I became a parent myself.

There are times when parenting can just be a “pull your hair out” experience.  Tonight, the stupid cat took me to DEFCON 2; but Littles knew my limit.  I don’t know how, but she did.  She knew I was frustrated and she wanted to do everything she could to help.  I couldn’t ask for a more kindhearted little girl.  Sleep tight, princess.

(I’m listening to “Little Heaven” by Toad the Wet Sprocket)

There’s nothing like a good visit from the parents.  My folks have been in town for the past nine days and the time sure does fly by.  When I was dropping them off at the airport today, it seemed like I had just picked them up the day before, and there was a good reason.  We had a lot to celebrate during their visit.  We had a 1st birthday party for Tiny, it was Mother’s Day, and my dad’s 69th birthday was on the 15th.  It was really special to have my parents here for those occasions because we don’t get to spend a lot of them together, due to us living in Denver and my parents living in Washington State.

My parents aren’t your ordinary guests.  Whenever we have other guests, they want to see Denver.  They want to go to Red Rocks, go skiing, go hiking, see the mountains, go out to eat, and that’s great!  There’s a lot to do in Denver and we love showing people around.  My parents aren’t really like that.  We’ll do some fun things, but they don’t need to be tourists.  They don’t need to go out all the time, although my mom does like to shop at the mall (so she can spoil the kids).  They don’t need to go out to eat and they don’t need to be constantly doing activities.  They just want to be here, spend time with us, be in our lives, and visit/spoil the grandchildren.  They just want to be family and it’s great.

This visit was excellent.  We just spent time being a family.  We made meals, played with the kids (Littles and Tiny just LOVE their Grandpy and Grammy) and talked about old memories; like trying to figure out what cars our family has had and in what order.  Mom made burgers and her homemade mac and cheese.  Dad helped me get my motorcycle running and gave me a ride home after selling my Jeep.  We went to Costco, the mall, and the Air Force base.  My parents also took lots of pictures.  They love taking pictures of the kids and showing them to family and friends back home.   

There were a couple of memories that really stuck out with this visit.  The first, is laughing with my dad.  He got me watching a show called “Impractical Jokers.”  It’s about four life-long friends that pull pranks and make each other say and do stupid things.  It’s hilarious.  It also made my dad and I laugh so hard.  When my dad and I laugh together, it’s not just your run of the mill laughter.  Our laughter is different.  We egg each other on to the point where we’re both making high-pitched gasps for breath and tears are running down our faces.  We laugh so hard that our laughter goes to another level because we’re now laughing at how hard the other is laughing.  It’s the kind of laughter that makes you laugh again after the original laughter has stopped.   It’s hilarious and also memorable.  My dad is hilarious.  

The other memory from this trip is of my mom playing piano.  We recently got a piano because we plan on having the girls and I take lessons.  Since that hasn’t happened yet, the piano doesn’t get much use, except for when mom is here.  At some point during the visit, she’ll grab our old church hymnal and start to play.  It’s really impressive.  I don’t know how often my mom plays, but it can’t be much since they don’t have a piano at home; but when she picks up that hymnal, she barely misses a note.  I love listening to her play.  It always bring back a flood of childhood memories of singing those hymns in Sunday night church.  So this time, when mom started to play, I sat in a chair next to her, put Littles in my lap, and began to sing along.  I won’t ever forget having my daughter sit in my lap and listening to “Grammy” play piano.  

The memories are made and suddenly it’s time to say goodbye.  I always miss them when they leave.  It just feels so sudden even though I know when they have to go.  I always wish I had more time to do more things and say the things I wanted to say.  I should say those things during the visit instead of trying to wait for the perfect time or I thinking I’d have time later; rather than ending up trying to cram it all in the 30 seconds that I’m unloading their luggage out of the car in front of the departure terminal.  That happened today and it happened too fast.  Sure, I gave them both a hug and told them how much I loved them, but it just didn’t seem like enough.

Mom and Dad, if you’re reading this, and I’m sure you are, I miss you both already.  I love you so much and I’m proud to have you as my parents.  It’s so nice having you here, spending time with you, and talking with you.  We don’t even have to do anything special, just being in the same room with you is enough for me.   I just love spending time with you.  We are so grateful and appreciative of everything you do for us and for the kids.  They really love their Grammy and Grandpy and I’m sure they can’t wait to see you again.  We can’t either.  Have a safe trip home and hopefully we will see you again really soon.  I love you both so much.  Your son, Jev.

(I’m listening to “Leave or Be Yours” by The Helio Sequence)

Tiny,

You are the happiest baby I know.  A lot of parents might say that about their kids, but I think you’ve literally been smiling since the day you were born.  You should be, considering what your mom had to go through to have you.  Your mom and I wondered if you’d ever cry, and I actually took a picture of you crying just to have proof of it.  Your mom thought it was weird I did that, but that’s just because you were always smiling.

I must admit, it took me a while to get to know you.  Those first weeks are really strange.  A new baby in the house means no sleep, routines change, and life is just turned upside down for a while.  It’s tough, and it takes time to get used to something new.  The transition from 1 to 2 kids was tougher on me than 0 to 1.  A lot of people say they’re in love with their kids from the moment they’re born, but I’m not like that; I wasn’t with your sister either.  It takes time for me to get to know you and for the first little while, there’s not really much to know.  You just eat, poop, and sleep.  I make bottles, change your diapers, and hopefully get you to sleep.  Wash, rinse, repeat.  It’s a ton of work, and selfishly, there’s not a lot of reward.  The days are long, and I was just trying to get through them.

That doesn’t mean I didn’t love you.  I did.  You are my baby, after all.  It just wasn’t the gushy, “Oh, I’m so in love with you and I’ll do anything for you” type of love.  It was very conditional and it was usually based on the amount of sleep you gave me.  I’m just being honest.

But then, something happened.  You smiled.  And you smiled again.  And you kept on smiling.  You gave me something to fall in love with.  You showed me that my hard work and sleepless nights were paying off.  You had a reaction to me, and it was always a smile.  (Sleeping through the night at 8 weeks didn’t hurt your cause either.)

 I know it sounds strange, but your reaction meant the world to me.  It flipped a switch in me.  It let me know that you at least recognized me and maybe even knew who I was.  You were at least acknowledging my presence, and that was enough for me to start falling in love.  And, you kept on smiling…

and smiling…

and smiling.

And our bond began to form.

Now, I can’t imagine life without you and your sister.  You can light up a room with that smile.  You can’t contain yourself when I come home from work.  You immediately crawl, and now hobble up to me, arms outstretched, imploring me to pick you up.  For good measure you’ll even throw in a “dadda” for some extra melting of my heart.  You have me completely wrapped around your little finger and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.  And, I know it will be that way for the rest of my life.  My little ladies are my life, and I am forever grateful God trusted me with you and your sister.

Today, you’re 1.  Someone once told me, “Long days, short years.”  That couldn’t be more true.  It’s hard to believe a year has gone by.  It seems like yesterday your mom and I took you home from the hospital, but at the same time, it seems like this year has taken forever.  I hope it stays that way, but it won’t.  I know some day, you and your sister will both be grown, ready to leave for college, ready to begin your own lives, and I’ll wonder where all the time went.  That’s just a fact of life and it will happen in the blink of an eye.

Knowing that, here’s my promise to you.  I will love you forever and I will always be your daddy.  No matter what happens, I will always be there for you and love you.  I am going to give you so much love and affection that you won’t need to go anywhere else to get it; but when you do, it will be because it’s time for you to do so, not because you have to.  I will always pray for you, guide you, and teach you. We’re just starting this journey together and we have so much fun ahead of us.  Just know, you’ll always be my little girl, and I’ll always try my best to give you a reason to keep smiling.

Happy 1st birthday, Tiny.

Love,

Daddy

(I’m listening to “Nutshell” by Alice In Chains)

Sometimes being a dad and being a human really clash.  What I mean by “human” is: if I was just responsible for me, with nobody else to consider.  As a dad, I would make a decision, but as a human, that decision could be very different.  Sure, that could be true of a lot of decisions, but I’m not talking about, “Oh man, if I were single” type stuff.  I’m just talking about normal decisions, if that makes any sense.  Let me explain.

Tomorrow, I will be selling my Jeep, so that means for the first time in about 8 years, I won’t be a Jeep owner.  I’m wrestling with this decision, but I can’t really put my finger on why.  I’m hoping that by writing about it, I’ll run into an answer.  If I think practically, I rarely drive it, I never take it off-road, I don’t take it snowboarding since we got our Pilot, I don’t take the top off, my kids don’t really fit in it, I’m selling it for the same amount I paid for it 4 years ago, and we already have two other SUV’s.  With all that said, it’s a good-looking Jeep and I’m still unsure about selling it.

Call me selfish, call it unnecessary to have three vehicles, call it nostalgia, but I really do love this Jeep.  We bought it right before we had our first daughter, Littles.  I upgraded from another Jeep because I loved owning a Jeep, I was becoming a dad, I was staring more responsibility right in the face, the new Jeep had airbags, and I guess I wanted to have something that didn’t seem so “dad-ish.”   We had already purchased the typical suburban family car, a Honda CR-V, so we needed something that was more fun than functional, right?  I mean, this is the Jeep we replaced:

That was an awesome Jeep.  Doors off, top down, we drove that all over.  We took it everywhere from the drive-in movies to the Black Hills in South Dakota.  It was one of our “get out of debt” cars.  I sold my Audi and bought this Jeep, and the wife sold her Volkswagen Rabbit and got an old Honda Civic.  This Jeep got us through some tough times, and never missed a beat.  It was tough selling that one too; it represented a lot of sacrifices made, but when Littles came along, the old Jeep just wasn’t going to cut it.  So, we got the current Jeep.  Due to it having airbags it was going to be a bit safer for me to drive, and we would still have a “fun” vehicle.

So, here’s why am I unsure about selling our current Jeep. One of the reasons is Littles loves to ride in “daddy’s Jeep.”

Riding in daddy’s Jeep is kind of our thing we do together.  I’m going to miss her asking for a ride.  I’m going to miss her asking, “Are we going in your Jeep?” when we’re walking out the door.  I’m going to miss her giggling when she bounces around because of a bump in the road.  I’m going to miss that time together, even though those rides have been few and far between since the arrival of her little sister.

Another reason it’s hard to sell is it’s really handy to have a 3rd car.  I know, that sounds like a really “American” thing to say, but the wife and I are both transplants in Colorado, so we have a lot of family and friends come visit.  It’s nice to have a car for them to use. It’s also nice to have when one of our other cars is in the shop.

The Jeep is also really fun to drive.  I can’t explain it, but there’s just something about driving a Jeep Wrangler.  It’s rugged.  No frills, no backup cameras, no bluetooth, no heated seats, no luxuries.  It’s just me and the Jeep.  I could be heading to the grocery store or to the mountains, and it feels the same; like I’m on an excursion to sleep under the stars next to a campfire. 

Are those good enough reasons to keep it though?

Like I said leading off, if I’m being a “human,” I definitely keep the Jeep, but, I’m also a dad, and the dad part of me says, “sell it.”  And maybe that’s why I’m having a hard time selling it.  Maybe it does represent me being a human instead of a dad; a different time in life, a time of more freedom, a time when we didn’t have kids, a time where we could do what we wanted, when we wanted to do it.  Maybe I should be saying “I” instead of “we.”  Maybe it represents a time where I had more freedom, a time when I could do what I wanted; not that I would change a thing.  Raising a family is one of the most wonderful and fulfilling things I’ve done in my life, but it does influence my decisions.  As selfish as it sounds, maybe the Jeep allows me to balance being a dad and a human, if only for a few miles at a time.  Maybe it’s a reminder that even though my time and my life isn’t my own anymore, I can still do a couple of things for myself.

Maybe I think the Jeep makes me feel like I’m not like everyone else in suburbia.  A wife, a mortgage, two cars, one being an SUV the other a sedan, or maybe both cars are SUV’s.  Either way, that just seems so practical and predictable.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my life and I am fortunate beyond measure, I’ve just never been the practical or predictable type, heck, I met the wife on a plane.  Maybe the Jeep provides just enough impracticality to counterbalance a life that’s becoming more and more practical.

Are those good enough reasons to keep it though?

I really don’t have that answer.  If I did, I would feel confident one way or the other, but I don’t.   The practical side of me says sell it…and get a Harley.  Crap, I’m right back where I started.

So long, Jeep.  Happy trails and thanks for the memories.

 

(I’m listening to “Lucky Man” by The Verve)

Tiny said, “Hi!”  It was clear as day.  The wife, Tiny, and myself were sitting in the sun room.  Littles walked in and Tiny waved to her and said, “Hi!” with a huge smile on her face. It was like watching a spaceman making contact with a martian for the first time.  All of our jaws dropped.  We got excited!  Communication has begun!  Tiny has been saying “Momma” and “Dadda” for a little while now, but for some reason, “Hi” seems different.  Tiny’s 1st birthday is next week and now she can say “Hi” to all of the guests at her party.  I can’t wait to hear Littles and Tiny jabbering away to each other.

Tiny also had milk today.  Straight milk.  She’s been a formula baby since graduating from the boob, but today we decided to see how she handled milk.  Here’s the result:

I’d say she likes it.  Her first taste was great.  She kind of looked at it and took a sip from the straw.  She paused, her eyes lit up, she got this amazed look on her face and said, “OH! Mmmmmm,” then quickly put the straw back in her mouth to take another drink like it was going to disappear.  It was like me taking a drink of something that I thought was water, only to find out it was Diet Coke or something else that’s awesome.  It was a priceless moment.

The switch from formula to milk will also a game changer…oh man!  No more mixing bottles; just pour some milk into a sippy cup and we’re good to go.  Also, I might be able to buy a whole cow for the price of a container of formula.  When I go to Costco to get formula, I feel like I should buy stock in the company so I can at least reap the dividend.  The biggest bonus though, is to my sense of smell.  Old formula bottles just smell awful.  Uncorking the smell from a formula bottle that’s been in a diaper bag all day is the equivalent of shoving a dirty diaper up your nose.  It kind of smells like when I have to open the dishwasher mid-cycle to put in a forgotten plate, only if you mixed that with a faint whiff of someone else’s fart.  It’s just awful.  It’s worse when I go to put some dirty dishes in the dishwasher and there are 8 dirty formula bottles that have been stewing in their own stench all day.  Ugh.  If we get to straight milk, that all goes out the window!

So, with those two magical moments, seasons are changing at our house.  Much to my dismay, the season is also changing outside.  Today was the last day of the ski season at Loveland Pass, and that means I don’t get to use this anymore.

The transition from Winter to Summer is always a rough for me.  The wife jokes that I have Reverse Seasonal Affective Disorder, which actually could be true.  I do get a bit grumpy and depressed during the summer, but I’ll get by.  I’ve told myself I’m going to do more hiking and biking this summer.  It has been a great season, and when I can get up to the mountain 30+ times while having a 3-year-old and a 1-year-old, I have no complaints.  Here are some highlights of my ski season:

It’s sad to see another season come and go, but I’m always grateful.  I have my health, a supportive wife who helps make time for me to go, a new riding partner, and I only have to wait 146 more days until another season begins!  Like the song I’m listening to says, “I’m a lucky man.”  I might go have some milk with Tiny to celebrate.

 

(Listening to “Can You Stand The Rain” by New Edition)

After a great family vacation in Pagosa Springs, we had one final obstacle…the 5 hour drive home.  GPS said it was 5 hours, but what GPS doesn’t know is we’re traveling with a 3-year-old and a 1-year-old.  I haven’t figured out a tried and true formula yet,  but I’m pretty confident it’s something like: for every 3 hours driven, add 30 minutes per child to the GPS estimate.  That will equal the total drive time.  Yeah, that sounds about right.  Anyway, the drive home went as smooth as possible.  Here are the pictures.

I must admit, I wasn’t sure how this whole deal would turn out.  Taking a 3-year-old and a 1-year-old on a thousand mile road trip could have been a recipe for disaster, but the kids passed with flying colors.  We could have stayed home for 5 days and just relaxed, but what fun is that?  We swam in hot springs, saw Native American ruins, visited old friends, had picnics, saw some gorgeous scenery, and spent a lot of quality time together.  No technology, no work, no deadlines, just us.  And that’s what it’s all about…spending time together and experiencing different things. Years from now, when the girls are grown, we won’t be wishing we’d spent more time at home, we’ll be wishing we did more of this.  The girls probably won’t remember this trip, but the wife and I definitely will.  This was our first road trip, we made it, and we had a blast.  I can’t wait for the next one.

(I’m listening to “The Funeral” by Band of Horses)

Day 4 of our Pagosa Springs vacation was very special to me.  I saw some amazing people I hadn’t seen in a while.  People that helped me become who I am.  I’ll get to that in a bit, but first, here are some pictures of the day.

 

The Van Ry’s are very special people to me.  I really can’t say enough about them and the impact they had on me during high school and beyond.  Some teachers you never forget.  For me, Mr. Van Ry was the one.  Mr. Van Ry (to this day I can’t bring myself to call him Jim, it will always be Mr. Van Ry) always challenged and encouraged me to be my best when it came to music; and that lesson I learned from music, I still apply to my life today.  I think teachers get into teaching because they want to have an impact on kids’ lives, and if that’s true, I want Mr. Van Ry to know he definitely impacted mine.

I first remember meeting Mr. Van Ry and Jenny, when I was in 7th grade.  He needed a kid to play Winthrop in the high school’s production of “The Music Man.”  I was a very musical kid from an early age and I vaguely remember my 7th grade choir director telling Mr. Van Ry that she had just the kid for the part.  I can’t remember if I auditioned or not, but I got the part.  Little did he know that meeting that young and cocky (when it came to music) kid was just the beginning of a relationship that has lasted 26 years.

In high school, I sang in all of his choirs: Freshman Chorus, Concert Choir, and a select group called Chamber Choir.  Mr. Van Ry also directed the musicals.  My sophomore year I was Edmund in “Narnia,” my junior year I was Sir Joseph Porter in “H.M.S. Pinafore,” and my senior year I was Will Parker in “Oklahoma!”  Needless to say, Mr. Van Ry and I worked together a lot and most of my best memories from high school were because of him.  He was so passionate about music and that passion rubbed off on me.  He just kept on challenging and encouraging me.

His encouragement led me to audition for All-Northwest Choir which was a 200 person choir made up of kids from 8 states.  It was held every two years. He helped me practice all of the vocal drills and make an audition tape.  I had no idea what my chances were of making this choir, but I did!  I remember him driving me to Spokane in his white Ford Explorer to participate.  He did the same for me the next year, when I made the All-State Chorus in Tacoma.  There were no limits to what this man would do for me when it came to music.

Then, my senior year, Mr. Van Ry took our Chamber Choir on tour.  He and his dad drove 16 high school students in two 15 passenger vans through Utah, New Mexico, and Colorado.  Jenny also came along.  It was the best moment of high school for me and also introduced me to the Southwest, a place I love to visit.  We saw so many places: the Mormon Tabernacle, Arches National Park, Four Corners Monument, Mesa Verde National Park, Rehoboth, New Mexico, Creede, Colorado, the Air Force Academy, and Denver, Colorado.  That trip would shape where I would live as an adult.  I can still name all those kids that were in that group, and I still keep in touch with many of them.  It was a very special time with a lot of special people, and great memories were made.  At the time, I don’t think I knew the impact that trip and those people would have on my life.  I do now.

Looking back, I must admit I wasn’t always the easiest kid to work with, especially early on in high school.  Music kind of came easy to me.  I could always just do it and I knew it.  I caught on fast.  I could hear something and sing it back.  Pitch was never a problem.  I just had an ear for music.  But, I was an immature and insecure kid, just trying to find myself and where I fit in.  Because of that, my musical talent could take on different shades of arrogance at times.  I wanted to impress people.  I cared too much about what people thought.  I wanted to prove myself.  I grew up in a sports town and I felt like if I didn’t play ball I didn’t matter as much.  I felt like my talent sort of made me a second class citizen.  I don’t know if I was right or wrong to feel that way, but I did.

Music was the one thing I was really good at and Mr. Van Ry taught me not to shy away from that.  He taught me to embrace music because that’s the talent I had been given.  He taught me to be proud of that talent and be the absolute best that I could.  Through music, Mr. Van Ry taught me how to be myself and how to be confident in who I was.  I can’t think of a better lesson for a teacher to teach a student.

Thank you Mr. Van Ry, for everything.  I am so glad my wife and kids got to meet the man who helped shape who I am.  I hope to see you again soon.

 

 

 

 

(I’m listening to “Posters” by Jack Johnson)

More pictures!  Day 3 of vacation was a huge success, but before I get to the photos, I just want to jot down what happened on day 2.  I forgot a camera so here’s the 2 minute recap.  The girls didn’t sleep well the night before.  Maybe it was new surroundings, maybe it was being cooped up in a car the day before, but they didn’t want to sleep, so we didn’t sleep.  Here’s the sunrise I saw to prove it:

 So, we started the day like zombies.  The wife wanted to go to a hot springs, but when we looked them up online, they all charged an arm and a leg to go.  I can be a little cheap, but the wife and I both agreed that $50 to $80 for 4 people to go sit in a pool filled with hot springs water was too much.  The wife is very resourceful at finding alternatives for stuff like this, so she asks the front desk.  The woman tells us about “hippie dips.”  Hippie dips are little pools that are built out of rocks on the shore of the river.  The pools, which are made by the locals, catch the hot springs water from the resort pipes before it goes into the cold river.  You can sit in these hippie dips and get the same tubbing experience and it doesn’t cost a thing.  So that’s what we did and it was a blast.  At first, we had trouble finding a hippie dip, but a local steered us in the right direction.

Smelling like sulfur, we headed for home, cleaned up, and went “hunting for treasures,” which means we checked out the thrift and antique stores.  We purchased three items out of the of the three stores in which we stopped: A Care Bears DVD, a purse for Littles’ sunglasses, and a Spice Girls CD.  I’m not making that up.  We went home, had dinner, rearranged the sleeping arrangement for Littles, and we all got a good night sleep!

So here’s day 3 and our adventure to Mesa Verde National Park!

Today was a great success.  The girls were troopers and I highly recommend Mesa Verde National Park.  We’ll definitely go back when the girls are older and spend more time there.  It was the wife’s first time and she loved it.  I had been there once before, while on a high school choir tour.  Coincidentally, we’re going to visit my high school choir director tomorrow in Creede, CO.  I can’t wait to see him and his family and have him meet my family.

 

 

 

 

(I’m listening to “In The Absence of Sun” by Duncan Sheik)

We made it safe and sound to Pagosa Springs, CO!  It was the first road trip for the kids, and they did great, for the most part.  They spent 360 miles on the road, and due to a couple of stops, it took about 7 hours.  I’d write about it, but words won’t do it justice, so here are the pictures!

Overall, the first road trip was a success!  The girls were troopers and we’re very happy to be here!  It’s going to be great to look back on these pictures and the memories we made.