(I’m listening to “Breathing Underwater” by Metric)

I looked around the house, saw the kids toys and clothes strewn about in every room, and said to the wife, “We have crap everywhere!  We have to get rid of some stuff!”  And that’s how the great toy purge of 2017 began.  The plan was simple.  We’d start in the kids rooms.  Anything they don’t play with anymore or have outgrown, goes.

Purging the kids’ stuff is tougher than it sounds.  We found many items where we said, “Oh! Remember when Littles would play with/wear/do this?”  We’d both get a little nostalgic and then one of us would say, “Yeah, I know, but it’s got to go!  We’d say goodbye, take a picture of the sentimental item, and put it in the donate pile.

I don’t mind the stuff, but I’ll reach a tipping point of being driven crazy if enough stuff isn’t where it belongs.  It’s not just the kids stuff that bothers me, it’s the grown-up stuff too.  Things just start accumulating on shelves, a pile of mail starts magically reproducing on the counter, papers I meant to file for the past two months take up permanent residency next to the fridge.  Laptops, tablets, remote controls, and charging cords find places to live in the living room.  Mix all of it together and it just gets to be too much for me.  I can’t relax.  I’ll sit down to watch TV or write, and piles of crap will just be staring at me.  I’ll eventually reach my breaking point, catch the cleaning bug, and straightened it all out.

The grown-up stuff isn’t so bad, it’s the kids stuff that puts it over the top.  They have some serious stuff.  We bought our house with children in mind.  We knew we wanted them in the near future, so we wanted a house we could “grow into.”  When we moved from our 2-bedroom apartment, the house felt empty.  We had a love seat, a recliner, a coffee table, a TV, and a bed.  I remember thinking, “I can’t see how we’ll ever run out of space in this house!”  Seriously, one of the bedrooms used to be my closet; that’s how much space we had.  Six years and two kids later, our trusty castle can sometimes feel like a room at the Holiday Inn.

With kids, “stuff” goes to a whole new level.  Toys are everywhere, puzzles are half completed, and clothes are littered on the floor.  We have exer-saucers, johnny jump ups, multiple doll strollers, toy shopping carts…you name it, we probably have it.  Littles’ room is the worst.  Her bookshelf is just stuffed full and there’s no rhyme or reason to it.  She’s a little scavenger and when she finds something she likes, (like a rock from outside or and empty water bottle) it immediately becomes “pecial” (she says “pecial” instead of “special”) and it makes its way to her bookshelf.  Her floor doubles as her closet.  She also loves doing arts and crafts.  She’ll scribble on paper, wrap it up in another piece of paper (like a homemade envelope) and tape it shut.  These little treasures get immediate “pecial to me status” and have to be stored on the bookshelf accordingly.  It’s really sight to see.

In all the mess, I’m actually amazed at the wife’s and my memory recall as to where our kids stuff is.  The wife and I will ask each other, “Have you seen Littles’ Wonder Woman cape?”  And I’ll be like, “Yeah, it’s under the chair in her room” almost like a reflex. “Have you seen Lightning McQueen anywhere?”  “Yeah, he’s on the windowsill behind the couch.”  “Do you know where Giant Baby is?”  “Yeah, she’s in the stroller downstairs.”  “Do you know where the last piece of this puzzle is?”  “Yeah, it’s under Tiny’s changing table.”  It’s uncanny.

The wife and I had talked about going through the kids stuff and ditching some of it, but the trick is finding the time in our schedule to sit down and do it.  It’s not a quick half an hour, spur of the moment job.  It’s a scheduled undertaking.  We carved out some time a couple of weeks ago.  So, we unloaded the girls’ rooms and put everything in the living room.  Here was the result.

And that’s like half of it.  I mean really, they have toys they’ve never seen before, books they have never read, clothes they have outgrown before they got a chance to wear.  So, we talked to Littles about giving some of her stuff away.  She was a bit concerned at first, but once we reassured her she’d be able to keep the things that were “pecial” to her and we wouldn’t give away her princess dresses and important stuffed animals, she was fine with the idea.  We told her she had so many toys and clothes and there are other kids that could use it.  So, the great purge of 2017 began.  We gave away a lot of toys they don’t play with anymore, returned items to the people from which we had borrowed them, we put puzzles back together, found missing pieces to toys, and took a load to Goodwill.  The rest we put back in its place.  Littles even helped.  When we were done, we had this:

It was a great accomplishment, but it’s just a step in the process.  Littles room is still a mess (we actually tell her if she doesn’t clean up her stuff it will disappear), but it’s progress.  It also felt good.  The house felt a little lighter, and everything was where it should be.  Now we just have to tackle the storage room and our closets…and the garage…and downstairs.  For now, I’ll just relax, and write.

(Listening to “Walk On the Ocean” by Toad the Wet Sprocket)

I had a birthday this past week.  As Littles would say, “What number are you?”  I joke with the wife and say 30-34 is early 30’s, 35-38 is mid 30’s, and 39 and 39 1/2 are late 30’s.  So, according to my math, I’m officially in my late 30’s.  I had a great birthday week and decided to set a goal I want to reach before I turn 40.

The Monday before my birthday, the wife said, “Pick somewhere to eat.  I hired a sitter and I have the rest of the night planned.”  Thinking of the places to eat near our house, I settled on Chili’s.

Even though Chili’s is exactly a mile from our house, we have never been.  I have a strange liking for Chili’s.  It’s a bit nostalgic.  Over dinner, the wife and I were talking about how, in college, Chili’s was some fine dining.  If I went on a road trip to Minneapolis with my friends, we always made a stop at Chili’s.  If I had a date I wanted to impress, Chili’s was on the short list.  If friends and I were heading to Sioux Falls or Sioux City, Chili’s was always an option.  Maybe it was because I didn’t have a lot of money in college, or there wasn’t a Chili’s within an hour of my campus, but Chili’s was “high society.”  The wife agreed.

After college, Chili’s was still a staple.  My first real job was in Sioux City, IA and my friends and I spent a lot of time after work at the Chili’s on Nebraska St.  We’d go there on Friday nights, get the bottomless chips and salsa, and the beers as big as our heads.  We called it “BBHFN” which stood for “Beers as Big as Our Heads Friday Nights.”  Then our company jacked up our health care rates and we had to have “Health Care Friday Nights,” which consisted of us all bringing a cheap six-pack to each other’s apartments and watching movies; but, we still found room for “BBHFN” in our budgets.

Anyway, I like Chili’s and it didn’t disappoint.  The wife and I ate, we talked about our stories of Chili’s, among other things, and we did it all without kids.  It was now time for “Baby Driver.”

“Baby Driver” is a movie I had heard about when the wife and I went to “Wonder Woman” a few weeks back.  I saw the previews for it and was hooked.  It’s a movie about a kid named Baby, who is a wheel-man for a criminal mastermind.  Due to a car accident he was in as a child, Baby has a permanent ringing in his ears that he drowns out by constantly listening to music.  He’s also a really good driver.  Because of that, the movie has an amazing soundtrack to go along with the car chases.  The wife remembered I had wanted to see it and planned a dinner and a movie date for my birthday.  Yes, she’s great.  The movie is good, but it’s a little violent.  Fifteen years ago I would have watched this movie without batting an eyelash.  Last week, I was kinda like, “Hmmm, well, this is a little violent, I guess.”  I blame the late 30’s.

I had been thinking about my age 39 goal for a while, but Monday night’s Chili’s visit cemented it.  One of the questions my wife asks when we have a birthday is, “Do you have any goals for this year?”  Some years I struggle to answer that question, but this year was different.  I knew exactly what I was going to say.  As we sat there eating bottomless chips and salsa, I told her that this year I’m going to get into the best shape of my life.  I’ve always been in decent shape and stay active with snowboarding and other activities, but I want to be in great shape when I turn 40.  In my 40’s, my kids will be starting new hobbies, possibly taking up sports, and I want to be able to keep up with them.  The next day, when I felt like I had spent the last 12 hours licking a salt block, I knew my goal was good, so that’s what I’m going to do.  I’m going to watch what I eat, carve out time to workout, run more, and get in the best shape of my life.

Wednesday was my actual birthday, and it was the most typical day of the week.  I got up,  dropped off the girls at swim, went to work, interviewed people for 8 hours, and called it a day.  There was nothing special about it, except my boss did buy me a cake.  But, when I came home, the family had a nice surprise for me.  The wife made one of my favorites, salmon, for dinner, and then Littles and the wife baked me a white cake with chocolate frosting, complete with sprinkles.  I am loved.

The wife also got me a gift.  She knows gifts are one of my love languages and she came through in fine style; getting me a vinyl I had been wanting for a while.  She knows me so well.

I did sort of buy myself an early birthday present.  Jack Johnson came to town on Thursday and I had bought my ticket a few months back.  At the time, I asked the wife if she wanted to go, but I already knew her answer would be no.  I love his music, but she doesn’t.  She says he sounds whiney.  If whiney means awesome, then she’s right.  We love each other in spite of our faults.  Anyway, I went to the show by myself as I do from time to time.  Since I’ve become a parent, if the wife doesn’t want to go, then sometimes I just don’t want to interact with anyone.  I just want to be.  That doesn’t mean I don’t like going with friends, but sometimes the process of contacting people, seeing if everyone’s schedule works, buying tickets, and collecting money from everyone is just beyond me.  Anyway, Jack was great and I enjoyed the show.  It gave me the chance to be human for a few hours and that’s a good present in itself.

That pretty much sums it up.  Thirty-nine is off to a great start!  I had an awesome date with the wife, had a wonderful birthday with my family, and took in a show.  I’m looking forward to what this year has to offer and I’m looking forward to being in the best shape of my life.

Thanks to my family for a great birthday! I am fortunate and blessed.  

 

 

(I’m listening to “Chrysalis” by S. Carey)

It’s always great to go on vacation and it’s always great to come home.  The family and I spent the last 9 days in Wisconsin and Minnesota visiting the in-laws.   During this particular stretch of time from June 27-July 6, there’s a lot going on.  It’s the wife’s dad’s wife’s birthday, it’s our niece’s birthday, and the 4th of July is sandwiched in between.  Lots of celebrations and lots of family get-togethers are had.  It’s a fun time to be around.  Plus, the wife’s mom and dad both live on lakes so there are always plenty to do with the kids.

The kids.  Yes, we brought them along of course.  Everyone loves to see Littles and Tiny.  Littles is “three and three-quarters,” as she would say, and loves to play with her cousins.  She’s a breeze to travel with at this age.  She plays independently, stays out of trouble, and when all else fails, you can read her books or put a movie in front of her and she’ll give everyone a break.  Tiny, on the other hand, is nuts.  She’s 14 months old, walks like a baby deer, puts everything in her mouth, climbs on everything, is in constant motion, and does it all with a huge smile on her face.  She’s cute, crazy, and exhausting.  It’s like following your drunk friend around at a bar, making sure they don’t do anything stupid; only they don’t know they’re drunk, they don’t know they’re doing stupid things, they don’t understand you when you tell them not to do dumb things, and the more dumb things they do, the better time they’re having!

At home, it’s easy to limit the “damage” Tiny can do.  We have our house baby-proofed and she can roam around and do pretty much whatever she wants.  No sweat.  When we’re somewhere else, that home field advantage goes out the window.   We’re worried about stairs, outlets, anything that can be swallowed, etc.  In short, the “vacation” becomes a trip.  Vacations are relaxing.  They’re a time to take a break from the daily routine, a time to unplug, unwind, kick the feet up, avoid responsibility, and chill.  Vacations don’t happen with young kids; trips do.  That’s because we still have the wonderful responsibility of the kids.  Granted, we do get a lot of amazing help from the family, but we’re still ultimately responsible.  It’s still a very fun time, but there are different levels of fun.

In fact, about half way through our trip, the wife introduced me to something called, “The Fun Scale.”  It’s something she read online and found when Tiny had woke her up at 4:30am.  It’s pretty self-explanatory.  Without further ado, here’s the fun scale.

Type I Fun – True fun, enjoyable while it’s happening.  Good food, snowboarding in powder, margaritas, spending time with old friends, great shows, etc.

Type II Fun – fun only in retrospect, not fun while it’s happening.  Things like working out, going to a yoga class, or running a marathon.  One time some friends of mine and I hiked a ridge at Schweitzer mountain in Idaho.  We hiked this thing for quite a while before we got to a place where we could drop in on our snowboards.  Our lungs were burning, we had frozen sweat on our faces, and we were worked.  We snowboarded down and at the bottom, one of the guys says, “Anyone want to do that again?”  We all did.

Type III Fun – not fun at all, not even in retrospect.  As in, “What the hell was I thinking? If I ever consider doing that again, somebody slap some sense into me!”

She brought up the fun scale because there were times on this trip where we had all the types of fun.  Type I – seeing family and friends, celebrating birthdays, etc.  Type II – having to chase Tiny around everywhere.  I remember telling the wife, “I don’t remember doing this with Littles.  Was she ever this crazy?”  The wife reminded me that we didn’t travel with Littles between the ages of 14 months and 24 months because she wouldn’t have sat still on a plane.  We went to Hawaii with my family when Littles was about 18 months.  We flew grandma in to take care of Littles because we couldn’t fathom her on a plane for 8 hours.  Smart move.  Type III – Thinking the 6:30am flight was a smart move.  We woke up at 3:00am, got packed and ready to go, then woke the kids up at 4:00am.  “They’ll go back to sleep, right?”  Wrong.  They stayed up the whole time.  We almost missed our flight because of the Disneyland line at the Frontier desk and only made it because and angel of a Frontier employee escorted us to the front of the line because our shuttle took FOREVER to get us from the parking lot to the airport.  All throughout the rest of the trip we called out what kind of fun we were having.  We’d just say, “Type II” or “Type III” or “Type I” and just giggle.

In retrospect, the trip was great and most of it was Type I, but Type II and even Type III definitely happened.  With that said, here’s a photo diary of our trip:

We had a great time with our family and friends.  It was so good to see everyone and celebrate so many different things; but, there is something to be said for being home after 9 days away.  We had all the types of fun, I, II, and III, and it’s great to be in our own beds, back into our routine, and to have a real changing table.  What a trip!  Until next time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

(I’m listening to “Chrysalis” by S. Carey)

The wife and I have been married for going on 9 years.  We have two amazing girls, a warm home, great jobs, flexible schedules, and everything we need.  We set aside time to go over our schedules every week, have budget “pow wows”, and spend time with the kids.  We both have hobbies and we give each other time to do them.  We go on vacations. Our life is really awesome.  All of that said, sometimes we accidentally forget to take the time to be in love.

We don’t do it on purpose.  It’s just that between all of the “things” we have going on, our relationship can sometimes take a back seat.  That’s not necessarily a bad thing.  It’s great that our relationship is strong enough to support us, but even the most reliable things need some maintenance every once in a while.  So, we gave our relationship some maintenance today and it will be the first time of many.

Friday mornings don’t fall under the stereotypical workday for us.  The wife is self-employed, so if she busts her butt Monday through Thursday, sometimes she can take things easy on Fridays.  I usually work late on Friday’s, so I don’t have to go to work until the afternoon.  That leaves the morning for us.

Today, we hired a babysitter so the wife and I could go on a day date.  The kids love our babysitter.  She’s a girl who lives up the street.  Littles gets so excited when we tell her the babysitter is coming.  She often refers to the babysitter as her best friend and she’s great with our kids.

After telling our oldest what we were doing and getting some goodbye hugs, our first stop was yoga.  The wife loves yoga.  Before kids, we used to go together, but I think I’ve gone once since.  It’s just hard to get us both out of the house at the same time without the kids.  We don’t live near family so we can’t just drop them off at grandma’s and go out.  We have to plan ahead and be intentional about it, which makes it all the more special when we get to do something like this.  We have to really take advantage of this time together.

Yoga was a heated C2 class.  That means they jack up the heat while you’re twisting and stretching yourself.  I hadn’t been to yoga in a while so I was a bit nervous because of a previous experience with a heated C2.  A heated C2, reminds me of our trip to Puerto Rico for our honeymoon.  Our honeymoon happened three years after we were married due to the fact we were broke (I’m laughing while I say that).  We had just paid for a wedding, we had student loans, and car payments.  Instead of putting a trip on a credit card and thinking about it the whole time, we decided to do Dave Ramsey’s plan and get out of debt.  Then, we saved the money for our honeymoon.  It took us three years to do all of that, but it was one of the best decisions we’ve ever made.

Anyway, the night before we left for Puerto Rico, we wanted to get relaxed, so we went to a heated C2 yoga class.  I thought I was going to die.  I was sweating from places I didn’t even know I could sweat from.  I think my tongue was even sweating.  When we were done, I was drenched, like I had just come out of a shower.  I was worked.  It was hard, but I felt great.  That’s kind of how yoga is for me.  I never really want to go to yoga, but when I’m done, I’m always glad I went.  With that said, I don’t remember “the glad” as much as I do “the bad;” so with that memory of complete exhaustion in my mind, I was thinking this class was going to be torture.  I must have exaggerated that memory in my head because this class was excellent!  Afterwards, I felt like a million bucks and was ready for the next part of our date…breakfast!

The wife and I love going to breakfast together, and it’s great having an awesome breakfast place near our house.  It’s called The Bagel Deli.  It’s a Jewish deli and it was featured on the show “Diners, Drive-In’s, and Dives.”  It has been there for 50 years and I doubt much has changed since it opened.

We both had the “Eggs Bagel-Dict” with corned beef, and it was amazing.

The food is great, but it’s really the time spent together that makes The Bagel Deli so special to me, and us.  It’s a time to talk, a time to connect, and a time to maintain our relationship.  Like I said, it’s so easy to get caught up in the day-to-day “operations” of our family and before I can blink, a few weeks go by, and we’re like, “I feel like we haven’t spent any time together!” or “I feel like we’re far apart.”   The wife’s love languages, (if you don’t know what love languages are, I suggest the book, “The Five Love Languages: The Secret to Love That Lasts” by Gary Chapman) are “acts of service” and “quality time.”  What that means is, sure, the wife loves it when I do the dishes and the laundry, but she also loves to spend time with me!  Those things fill her love tank, and as her husband, I like to keep that tank full; in fact, I vowed to keep that tank full.

It’s so important to spend dedicated time together, with just us.  We started this family with us because we love each other and wanted to be together; and, no matter what responsibilities we have, it’s important to remember the greatest responsibility is to each other.  That’s why we have days like today and why we will have more in the future; because it’s important to take the time to be in love.

I had a great time, honey.  Would you like to go out again…say, next Friday?  Great.  I’ll pick you up at 9…AM.

 

(I’m listening to Marcy Playground’s first CD)

Happy Father’s Day!

Lately, I’ve been listening to Marcy Playground’s first album a lot because I went to their show a week ago or so.  I’ll never forget the show because that was the night the wife and I met a couple that we might be helping out in the near future.  We met them for dinner at a local Italian restaurant and afterwards, the wife dropped me off at Herman’s Hideaway to see Marcy Playground and Fuel with a couple of good friends.  It was a really fun show.  To top it off, I got to go snowboarding the next day.  Yeah, the wife is awesome.

Anyone who is into 90’s music like I am knows Marcy Playground’s most popular song, “Sex and Candy.”  It’s a really strange title because the song isn’t about sex or candy.  The song isn’t really about anything.  It was the 90’s and anyone could write a song about anything.  Is “Glycerine” really about glycerine?  Who knows?  Just don’t let the days go by.  Anyway, what I didn’t realize about Marcy Playground is they have a lot of other good songs.  I know I had heard them before, but none of them were as catchy as “Sex and Candy.”  A lot of people might even say Marcy Playground was a one hit wonder, and according to the music charts, they’d be right.  But that’s why live music is so great.  I might have been waiting to hear that one song I remembered, but I discovered that I liked a lot of Marcy Playground songs.  So, I bought the vinyl at the show, it sounds terrific, and then I bought the CD from a used CD place in town, and I’ve been listening to them ever since.

I love live music.  It just makes me feel young; not that I’m old or anything.  It just gives the human side of me a shot in the arm.  Going to shows is different as a dad.  I still do it, but it’s a bigger production.  Before kids, I could find a show I wanted to see, make sure I didn’t have anything else going on that night, buy the ticket, and go.  Simple.  It was a carefree process.  Now, there’s a little more planning involved due to schedules and child care.  Plus, I have to consider what’s going on the next day because I know I’ll be out late and the kids won’t care that I was out late.  It’s just different.  But, once I walk in those doors to the show, it’s the same carefree experience.  It gives my human side a boost and my dad side a break.

(A quick side note…I just heard a faint whimper of “daddy” from down the hall.  My 3-year-old needed to go potty, so I had to help her out.  That happens frequently when I’m writing.  I tend to write later at night when everyone has gone to bed.  That way, I can avoid neglecting my family, I can concentrate, and hopefully not be interrupted.  But, it never fails that around midnight, Littles will need to go potty or need her blankets put back on.  I really don’t mind at all.  It’s actually an adorable moment, and it’s what this dad does.)

Speaking of being a dad, today was Father’s Day and it was a great day.  A couple of days before, the wife asked me if there was anything special I wanted to do.  I didn’t say it out loud, but the first thing that popped into my mind was “relax.”  We have had a lot of stuff going on lately.  The wife and I have both started exercising again, work has been busy, we had our house painted, and we’re going out of town soon, so I just wanted to relax.

On a normal day, the wife and I do a pretty good job of splitting the “family workload” 50/50.  On Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, the wife and I try to give the other a break and do more of the heavy lifting.  We didn’t really talk about doing that, it just sort of happened this year.  The wife did awesome.  I got to sleep in, my family gave me a great gift, the wife made me caramel rolls…

(Another side note.  The wife making me caramel rolls is something really special.  When we first started dating, she was living in Minneapolis and I was living in Reno, NV.  I went to a buddy’s wedding in Iowa so I flew into Minneapolis to see her before going to the wedding.  On the morning I was supposed to drive down to the wedding, she made me caramel rolls.  I’m a neat freak when it comes to cars and I was running a little late on my departure for the wedding, so I didn’t want drive while eating these gloriously sticky caramel rolls.  I should have just stayed and had some, but since I was concerned about being late to the wedding, I turned down the caramel rolls and hit the road.  Yes, I’m an idiot.  She ended up eating them with her roommates and probably questioning our relationship.  Looking back, I’m lucky she agreed to marry me.  We’ve been married almost 9 years and I can count the number of times she’s made those caramel rolls on like three fingers, plus, the story gets rehashed.)

Anyway, I got to sleep in, my family gave me a great gift, the wife made me caramel rolls, we went to church, I picked up a Marcy Playground CD I had ordered from the second-hand music store, and we came home.  Then, we had lunch, the wife put Tiny down for her nap while Littles and I played Nintendo, then the wife and Littles had some quiet time while I got to take a nap.  That’s the best gift ever.  I love a good Sunday afternoon nap.

When we woke up, the wife played with the kids and I made dinner.  The day before, the wife had asked me if I wanted to have anything special to eat for Father’s Day, and I told her I wanted breakfast for dinner and that I’d make it; so we had pancakes, eggs, and sausage.  I bet the wife thought it was kind of strange that I would make dinner on Father’s Day because it’s strange when I make dinner on any day.  For example, I’m usually in charge of dinner on Saturday nights, and a lot of times, that means we’ll be going out to eat.  Plus, I’m not good in the kitchen.  Breakfast is the only meal I can make well.

I know why I offered to make dinner on Father’s Day.  I knew the wife wanted to give me an “easy” day because it was Father’s Day.  She’d make meals, take care of the kids, give me a nap, etc.  In fact, there were a number of times today when I was doing things like changing diapers, or doing dishes, and she would say, “You shouldn’t be doing that, it’s Father’s Day.”  The reason I did those things and made dinner is I knew I didn’t have to.  She would have done them for me to show me that she appreciates me, but I already know that.  My family shows me they appreciate me every day and I just wanted to celebrate Father’s Day by being a father and spending time with my family.

I am grateful for everything the wife and my kids did for me today.  They gave me a totally relaxing day, just like I wanted; and I also got to be a dad and father.  It was an amazing Father’s Day.  Thank you, honey.

 

 

 

(Listening to “Sherry Fraser” by Marcy Playground)

About a week ago, the wife and I decided it was time for Littles to have a pedal bike.  She has been zipping around on her Strider Balance Bike for a while now and we figured this was the next step.  So, we took her to Target to pick out her “big girl bike.”

Picking the bike out was the biggest deal for her and there were a lot of different options.  There was an Anna and Elsa bike from “Frozen,” there was a Disney princess bike, and there was a Lightning McQueen bike.  I knew which bike she was going to pick.  As the dad of two girls, I’ll admit, sometimes Littles and I do things I enjoy like skateboard, snowboard, watch sports, and listen to music, because I want her to be interested in those things so we can do them together.  Even when Littles was a baby, I’d dress her in camouflage, sports team t-shirts, Wonder Woman outfits, and skateboarding shoes, hoping to ignite those interests.  She does like those things, but, somewhere along the line, this girl fell in love with princesses and dresses, so we have fun with those too.    Based on that, I knew which bike she was going to pick.  Princesses it was!  We bought the bike and took it home.

Littles biggest concern may have been getting the princess bike, but my biggest concern was getting her to ride it.  This is where my nerves kicked in.  I want her to like it and I really don’t want her to get hurt.  Call it my protective instincts, I guess.  I worry about the getting hurt part more because I know she’ll eventually enjoy riding a bike.  It’s just something kids learn, like going potty and dressing themselves.  I don’t know many kids that went to college and didn’t know how to ride a bike.  The getting hurt part, well, that’s different.  She’s my little girl and I don’t want to see her get hurt.

All of that aside, I started putting the bike together.  Since she had been cruising around on her balance bike, with ease, we opted to leave the training wheels in the box.  Once we got it put together, I had her sit on it.  The bike is a little bit big for her; she can barely touch the ground while sitting on the seat. Because of that, I figure she’ll have a hard time starting and stopping, but we’ll figure it out.

The time to ride had come, but nature had other plans.  A thunderstorm swept through the area, so we’d have to wait.  So, we did something else she loves to do.  We baked.  Momma got out the ingredients and the ladies made muffins.  Yum!

In typical Colorado fashion, the storm blew through in about 30 minutes.  Now it was time to ride!  Littles put her helmet on and we all took the bike out to the cul-de-sac.  With mom and Tiny looking on, I held the bike in place while Littles got on.  She looked a little uneasy because she couldn’t touch the ground, but I told her that I wouldn’t let go until she said it was okay.  That seemed to reassure her.  At that point, I don’t know who was more nervous, her or me, but she started to pedal and I ran beside her, holding the seat, and making sure she didn’t fall.  We’re rolling around our cul-de-sac, and after about 30 yards, Littles said, “Okay daddy, let go!”  I replied, “Really?” She responded in a serious and concentrating tone, “It’s okay, I think I got it, let go.”  Now, it wasn’t like one of those scenes in the movies where the parent let’s go and the kid rides around like they’ve been doing it for years.  I did let go, but I was right there, running along side her, ready to catch her if she started wobbling; and that’s exactly what she did.  At the end of the cul-de-sac, she had to turn, and she began to wobble.  I was able to grab the seat, telling her she needed to keep pedaling and reminding her to steer just like she does on her strider.  We get back to our original starting point, I held the seat as she came to a stop so she didn’t fall, and she looked at me and said, “Again!”

We got ready for lap number two.  I held her up to start, she climbed on the bike, she started pedaling, and this time, I just let go.  She’s pedaling and steering and I cautiously took a couple of steps back to snap a picture.  She’s doing it all by herself.  She’s smiling and saying, “look at me!” But again, I’m close by to catch her in case she starts to wobble. She navigated the turn at the end of the cul-de-sac, kept on pedaling, and just when she got back to the starting point, she began to slow down and wobble.  As she tried and failed to put her foot on the ground, a look of uncertainty and fear came across her face.  I saw this and caught her before she could tip over.  She said, “Whoa.  That was a close one, daddy.”  I tell her that it was, but that she did it all by herself, she’s a big girl, and I’m proud of her.  She gave me a smile of approval and asked if we can do it again.  This happened a couple of more times and then she asked if she could ride her strider.  We got it out of the garage and she cruised around all by herself.

I don’t know what I expected.  Maybe I did have that Hollywood experience in the back of my mind where the kid just starts riding the bike like an old pro, but I know I wasn’t counting on it.  There’s a lot to learn between pedaling, starting, braking, steering, and stopping.  I tried to think back to when I learned how to ride a bike, but I can’t remember.  She has the balance down and I’m sure the rest will come once she’s a little bigger and with a little practice.  By the end of the summer, I’ll probably be trying to keep up with her.

At bedtime, she’s all tucked in, and she tells me that she really likes her bike and asks if she can ride it again.  I say, “Of course!” and she just smiles in approval.  Overall, it was a successful first day of riding a big girl bike.  She liked it, and she didn’t get hurt.  Plus, I had to “let go” for the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.

 

(I’m listening to “Wishlist” by Pearl Jam)

I have a small collection of vinyl records.  No, I’m not a vinyl snob.  I won’t get into a debate about “what sounds better.”  I just like buying a vinyl record every now and then.  The hobby, if I can call it that, started a few years ago when I purchased a record player as a Christmas gift for the wife.  She had found Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” at a garage sale and wanted to listen to it, so, I bought her a record player.  Slowly, I started using the record player more and more, and soon, I found myself buying records.

I really enjoy vinyl for a few reasons.  The first reason is nostalgia.  Vinyl reminds me of a simpler time.  No cell phones, no internet, no iTunes; I just put the needle on the record, listen, and relax.  Second, I like more music listening to vinyl.  I can’t just put the record player on repeat and “wear out” a good song.  I actually have to listen to the whole record, so I end up liking more songs from said record.  Call it old-fashioned delayed gratification.  Third, vinyl sounds amazing.  I have purchased some of my favorite albums on vinyl and it’s like I’m listening to them for the first time.  It’s hard to explain, but I feel like the sound has more depth.  The highs are higher and the lows are lower.  It’s like I had been missing something until I listened to them on vinyl.

When first started buying vinyl, I did make a couple of unofficial rules: One, I could only buy music that was originally released on vinyl, and two, I had to buy vinyl at garage sales to avoid paying $40 or $50 for a record.  I stuck to them for a while, but they have both been broken.  I blame Led Zeppelin.  The wife bought me Led Zeppelin IV for a gift, and since then, I’ve been hooked.  Technically, that album did follow both rules.  It was originally released on vinyl, and since I didn’t buy it, I wasn’t in violation rule two; not that it mattered.  I put it on and I heard it in a whole new way.  I heard guitar riffs I had never heard before.  It was like Jimmy Page was playing two guitars at the same time.  “Stairway to Heaven” had never sounded so clear.  “Going to California” had picking in it I had never heard.  “Four Sticks” sounded like John Bonham was using eight sticks to play it, and Robert Plant sounded like he was in my living room.  That was all it took.  I violated rule two when I purchased Led Zeppelin II.

Rule one was still in tact, but after hearing Led Zeppelin, I started thinking about other music that would sound more amazing.  So, I broke rule number one with Pearl Jam’s “Vitalogy” and the downward or upward spiral into vinyl, depending on how you want to see it, began.  One of my favorite songs off of that album is called”Nothingman.” If you love that song and haven’t heard it on vinyl, you need to.  The chords just pop and the guitar strums hang in my ear for an extra fraction of a second before changing.  It’s really beautiful.

Vinyl is making a comeback and with so many great albums being reissued, I have a new rule.  If I buy a vinyl record, it has to have some sort of memory attached to it.  That’s led me to purchase albums like, Pearl Jam “Ten,” Pearl Jam “Yield,” Nirvana Unplugged, Oasis, Green Day, Coldplay, Hootie and the Blowfish, Temple of the Dog, and other albums from my youth.  My two latest purchases are the “Singles” Soundtrack, and Third Eye Blind.  They’re in the mail as we speak and I can’t wait to listen to them.  All of these albums have some sort of good memory attached to them.  The memories could be a funny story from college, times spent with friends, road trips, or the song I was listening to on the plane when I met my future wife, and they are all special to me, so that’s the rule.

The reason for the “new rule” is simple.  Music is an outlet for me.  I’m a dad most of the time, but music reminds me of when I was just a human.  Now, I’ll never be just a human again, and thankfully so because I love being a dad; but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t sometimes feel good to take off the “dad hat” for a few minutes.  It helps me reset, gives me a break, renews my energy, and in the end, makes me a better dad!  And that’s the point.  Certain music reminds me of great memories I have of a time when responsibilities were low, cares were cast aside, and time was limitless.  Sometimes, I just need to stop thinking about the bills that need to be paid, that important business presentation, the chores that need to be done, the house that needs to be fixed, or the upcoming schedule for the week.  Listening to music gives me that break, and, it just happens to sound better on vinyl.

(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.