Month: January 2015
The Real Need Was In The Little Things
What do rain, rhinos, overcast, lions, wind, giraffes, trees, birds, and bugs all have in common? Right! The Oregon Zoo of course.
There is no experience that compares to a trip to the Oregon Zoo. Where else can you go where the wind blows continually, the rain falls hard and sideways, and you get all the aromatic scent of animal dung you could wish for at a price? Yep! The zoo.
What’s even more astounding than this? Well, we actually have willingly participated in this endeavour multiple times over the years.
“It’s for the kids,” we say as we examine our heads while thinking through the rationale behind taking these excursions. Really! It’s for the kids? “Ha!” I say. It’s not just for the kids, it’s because there is something alluring about wild beasts. We like them… a lot! Maybe they will be active, alert, and loud. Nothing like a good monkey chase going on, or lions roaring like crazy. Hippos playing in the pond under our noses, and the elephants wide awake, outside, and frisky. We love it all!
What we don’t love are all the people who are doing the same thing we are, and all at the same time. “Are all the malls closed today and everyone thought a zoo trip would be a good idea?”
Seriously! Why today of all days?
In the end it doesn’t matter. All the people and all the elements are not enough to daunt us. We will persevere and even return to do it again in the future. After all, it’s the zoo. Of course we will be back.
I have to admit that once the kids are older it is a bit more fun. Having them sitting in a stroller as a toddler looking at some fuzz on their blanket isn’t quite why we came. If you had multiple kids like we did, you had the pleasure of having both the older and toddler age kids all at once.
I remember one trip to this wonderland when my heart stopped and fear froze me in place for a moment. The thing about lots of people means being vigilant about where all the kids are at every moment. There is so much bustling going on that the idea that one of the kids may have wandered off was alarming to me. That was something Marm and I were concerned about, and it kept us on constant alert.
We had had a great time roaming around the place. We had seen most of the exhibits and were on the downhill side of the large loop that took us past all the critters. I think all that was left to see were the penguins, bats, and maybe another something-or-other. As we made our way into the bat cave, no pun intended, all of us were in a tight group. Annie and Aaron were seven and five, and Abbey was not quite two.
The two older kids were free to move around and were staring intently into the large glass enclosed cage which housed the myriads of bats. Abbey was safely strapped into the stroller and just a step or so away. I have to admit, it was really fascinating to watch all those bats. Some were hanging upside down and asleep, while others were flitting from here to there. The bats definitely were holding our attention. We were glued to them and their ghoulish antics.
Suddenly an ear-piercing scream cuts through everything. In an instant I knew it was Abbey. I didn’t know why she was screaming, only that she was screaming. In that brief moment of paralyzing fear my mind immediately went to… she’s being snatched by someone.
I was instantly ready to hurt somebody if they were trying to take our baby! As I spun around to see who might be there I saw no one. I was confused for a moment at why she was screaming. She hadn’t stopped yet and it was getting worse. Both Marm and I dashed over to her and I remember not seeing any reason for her to be so upset.
Marm saw it first, and pointed. There sitting pretty as you please on the edge of Abbey’s stroller was some sort of small fly. To Abbey it must have seemed like the biggest and nastiest flying bug she had ever seen. She was completely undone.
I waved my hands to make it leave, and It flew away with no fanfare at all. Marm immediately rescued Abbey from the stroller. As Marm was soothing Abbey I was recovering from all the commotion. I remember thinking that a little bug like that shouldn’t be that big of a deal. After all, I was just about to hurt someone if she was being taken from us. Now that would have been a big deal. This small bug looked tame in comparison.
I watched Marm as she held Abbey, talked to her, and loved on her. I made note of how she was making sure our little girl felt safe and protected.
At times I could get caught up in the “big” thing like, “someone taking our child”, and would miss the little thing like, “comforting them” when I thought it wasn’t too big a deal. Marm knew what was important and was doing it. A good lesson for me to learn early as our kids continued to grow. Often times the real need was in the little things.
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The Day I Was Done and Gave My Daughters Away.
I remember all the feelings I had as we stood at the back of the runner. Breathe I told myself. Soak in every moment, every step. Don’t be in a hurry. It will go so fast and you won’t have another chance like this with her. It was hard to believe it had already come to this.
Several months later as we stood atop the flight of outdoor stairs I had the same rush of feelings tearing at me as before. Breathe I ordered myself again. Soak in every moment, every step. Don’t trip and don’t miss the smallest detail of this walk. I knew it was going to pass by so quickly and I felt like I had no time to get my feet under me.
I was ready for this and yet, completely unprepared for this, all at the same time. So many memories and thoughts running through my head as I walked down that aisle and stairway. So many things I wanted to say. So many things there was no time to say. In the blink of an eye it would be over and everything will have changed forever. Nothing would ever be like it was before.
As a new father I had no idea what to expect. I really had no clue. I had no idea that the long nights would really be LONG. I knew nothing of being mature and consistent as the dad. I had no idea how much fun my kids could be, and what memories we would make together throughout all their childhood years. I didn’t have much confidence in myself about being a good dad at all. I was scared at times. Not scared of the unknown, but scared about myself and what I was capable of as their father.
I didn’t know how deeply I would love my children. How could I until the little buggers were filling up the house? I was in way over my head, but was loving being their dad. No other man had the inside track that I had to these wonderful people. No other man would have them calling for him to come and tuck them into bed at night. No other man would hug them as dad, or kiss them as dad, or whatever them as dad. I got all of that. It was mine. I was Daddy.
I watched them grow, and mature. I watched them stumble, fall, skin their knees both literally and figuratively. I watched them grow in their faith and commitment. I watched them struggle as they wrestled with who they are as people. I watched, and watched, and watched.
Marm and I were so vigilant about being present with the kids. “Don’t miss the time as it passes”, was our mantra. We took to heart the sage old advice of those who had gone before us.
“Pay attention! The time passes so quickly.”
We worked hard at being there for the kids. They were an inseparable part of our family fabric and were woven deeply into its tapestry.
So how did it come to this already? How in the world did I get here? I paid attention. I was involved. I was there. I watched and participated. How did it come to this so soon?
In a mere few minutes my daughters would no longer be just mine. Their hearts had been given to other men. They were pledging their entire lives to these men, and I watched it happen, or in my case, helped in the process.
I was being asked, “Who gives this woman…?” and I was simply to say, “Her Mother and I.” That’s it? A whole life time together and in one simple statement of release she is gone from me forever.
I know it was what we wanted for them. What we prayed about and prepared for, for them. It was the right thing for them. The best thing for them. The blessed thing for them. There was no denying it, nor would I try. I wanted this for them all along. It was just…just… just that it happened right under my nose when I wasn’t looking. Well, maybe I was looking, but just wasn’t prepared for how I would feel on those two days when I was done and gave my daughters away.
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Popcorn Anyone?
Five kids. Count ‘em: one…two…three…four…five. Our personal handful.
Each amazing in their own right, and each starkly different. The uniqueness of each of our minions has been both fun to watch, and challenging to figure out. Any of you with kids know that what works with one, doesn’t mean it works with the others. That would simply be too easy.
Sometimes this “uniqueness” causes happenings that are beyond description. Sometimes it’s the source of scenarios that otherwise would remain innocuous. Sometimes, well sometimes….
Aaron is our only son. The male heir with four sisters. This young man has endured an abundance of estrogen charged young ladies most of his life. I think he has navigated this marvelously well and has managed to maintain his “manliness” throughout. What he has put up with from these blonde siblings while growing up has been more than entertaining to watch. However, sometimes it wasn’t his sisters that got him, but he himself.
One of AJ’s quirks is an acute abhorrence to secondhand food. Maybe this is changing now that he has his own daughter. We parents all know what it’s like to nibble from their plate, or finish off their leftovers; providing the leftovers are still recognizable of course. Time will tell. But suffice it to say, his daughter’s food withstanding, there aren’t too many things that gross him out worse than pre-nibbled and picked over food. Bleck!
On the day of the ill-fated event Annie, Aaron, and Abbey were in our living room lounging around after their movie had finished. No one was in a hurry to go anywhere and the atmosphere was extremely relaxed. Aaron spotted the bowl of popcorn peacefully resting atop the coffee table where it had been placed sometime during the movie.
Aaron loves popcorn. Do any of you remember the scene from Finding Nemo where Nemo is in the fish tank at the dentist office? One of his fellow inmates spots the bubbles rising from the open chest and goes berserk shouting, “Bubbles! Bubbles!” That’s Aaron when he spots popcorn. “Popcorn! Popcorn!”
He snagged the bowl and quickly peaked at its contents. No popcorn left in sight, just the “old maids” that didn’t have the nerve to do what was right under heat and pressure. Did this daunt this young man? No way! He picked up some of those biddies and popped them in his mouth. He was busy swishing them around with great satisfaction when Annie piped up and said, “Abbey already sucked all the salt off of those earlier.”
You could audibly hear the world stop spinning at this point. Aaron momentarily froze. Recognition of what he had done quickly spread across his face. His eyes widened appreciably, while his brain’s synapses were making the necessary connections. Then it registered. Secondhand food was not only in his mouth, but he had been swirling it around with great relish. Out came the full length of his tongue as he quickly flapped it around trying to get rid of those defiling “old maids”.
His gyrations and obvious disapproval for having “those things” in his mouth sent his sisters into immediate hysterics. Who knows what he actually did once they were out of his mouth because they were too busy laughing their backsides off to notice. He may have wiped his tongue on something or ran quickly out of the room in search of some liquid to rinse away this abomination in his mouth. I have no idea, but surely the look on his face must have pleaded, “Tell me it isn’t so. Please tell me it isn’t so!”
Popcorn anyone?
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I Sayed it!
Lost Lake has been our family favorite since Marm introduced it to me shortly after we were married. All of the kids have grown up on its shores, and innumerable adventures and escapades there have dotted our family timeline.
This pristine lake is a magical place where no boat motor touches it. It’s water is crystal clear and COLD if you venture in too early in the season. Mt Hood towers as its backdrop and it’s encircled by beautiful Pacific Northwest forest and fauna.
There is camping, hiking, fishing, swimming, and boating with various non-motor options. The best for me however, is snorkeling. Almost from the first time I saw the lake I wanted to snorkel in it. I had never snorkeled before, but I did here. Boy howdy, did I snorkel here! (More on that in future posts.)
In the earlier years when the kids were small I would spend hours in the water finding crawdads. I would search up and down the shoreline poking under the rocks in the shallower warmer water, or dive down as far as 20 feet to overturn a log on the lake bottom. It was here on the bottom that the monstrous leviathan dwelt. I would bring back the best prizes of the dive and show them to the kids. They would clap and cheer, squeal and run up to see them more closely. They wanted to hold them, but would scream and run away when they wiggled their legs at them. Once I caught one that was as big as a small crab. No fish story here. It was huge. I had a serious aversion to getting pinched by that big boy. No… thank you!
One summer we stayed a full week in the cabins during our family vacation. Like usual we were all spending the day together down along the beach in one of our favorite spots. The water had warmed nicely from the weeks of summer sunshine and I was out snorkeling around in search of the elusive creatures.
While the kids were playing on the beach, Annie and Aaron kept looking into the old metal coffee pot where we housed the captive crawdads. Annie was five and Aaron was almost three at the time. They kept taking peeks at the two or three wee beasties that were all meshed up together in a churning ball of pincers and antennae inside the pot. They were obsessed with them and couldn’t leave them alone.
While they were taking their peeks in the pot, Annie had been trying to get Aaron to say “crawdad”. For whatever reason he would not or could not say the word. Then, suddenly, out of the blue, he mumbled his toddler version of it.
He looked up with the biggest, sweetest grin on his face and shyly proclaimed with glowing three-year old pride, ”I sayed it!”.
That was it for us. That was the moment of the day. Everything else paled in comparison and those three words have been immortalized in our family ever since.
“I sayed it!”
Yes son, you surely did “sayed it”.
Curls & Capes 