Sometimes Words Simply Fail
Moments in time.
We all have them. Some of these moments are brilliant. They shine so far beyond our expectations that we wonder if we really had anything to do with it at all. Other moments are more everyday, mundane, routine, but beautiful none-the-less in their simplicity. And then, there are those moments. Those are the moments we would like to take back, or wished never happened, or worse, revealed so great a conundrum about ourselves that it leaves us speechless. Those are the times that we just shake our heads and wonder what in the world we were thinking at all. Yep. Moments in time, or shall I say, less than great moments in time.
It was such a typical day. It was just the three of us at the time: Marm, Annie, and me. Annie was just a tyke in diapers and not very old at all. We were in those early stages of being first time parents. Everything was a big deal in regard to our baby. We were the over-the-top vigilant parents. Nothing got past us. (Ha!) and nothing ever would. (Ha again!)
Everything was new and unusual. We were knee-deep in working out routines, schedules, and all those things that contribute to having your entire world turned upside-down by the smallest of people. Everything had changed forever. This was not bad, mind you, just the truth as any parent will tell you. Nothing was or ever would be the same as before.
Take the laundry for instance. When it was just Marm and I laundry seemed to be a fairly simple task. Once or twice a week there would be a couple of loads to wash and dry and that was it. Who knew a baby could change something as droll as laundry into one of the biggest time challenges of the week? It was only one small kid. How could she routinely mess up so many clothes and cloth diapers.? As Vizzini from The Princess Bride would say,”Inconceivable!”
I’m telling you. There were diapers, onesies, tops, pants, sleepers, dresses, jumpers, skirts, socks, bibs, towels, more diapers, plastic pants, blankets and the like. She was just one kid, but the piles of laundry she could produce were inappropriate. I still shake my new daddy head when I think about it.
The reason we had so many diapers was simple. We were part of the early eighty’s parenting movement known as “natural childbirth”. This meant Marm had no meds during labor and delivery, she nursed the kids faithfully rather than feed them a bottle, and we used cloth diapers with rubber pants over them. We would have none of those plastic diaper thingies on our girl’s little tush.
At that time the environment and plastic diapers hadn’t become a pop-cult item like today. We just didn’t want to use them, and didn’t want to have to pay for them. Cloth was cheaper, more natural.
Compared to the cloth diapers our daughters use on their kids today, ours were from the stone age. No deluxe shapes, snaps, colors and patterns. No fancy inserts for better absorption Nope. Simple, plain, white, cotton diapers that had to be folded after every use. These were our tools of the trade, and this brings me to the point.
I really did want to help Marm out with all the work load this little angel of ours created on a regular basis. Marm had her hands full with everything that went into being a first time mother. I don’t know if I really helped that much or not, but I would like to think I did. She could probably give you the 411 on this much more accurately than me.
What I do remember was one of those glorious moments when I did one of the stupidest things I could do. What’s so pathetic about this is that I didn’t even realize how stupid it was, and how immeasurably dumb I sounded in defending myself.
It went something like this.
“Don, please put the wet diapers that are in the washer in the dryer so I can have them ready in the morning.”
“Sure thing Sweetheart,” I said as I trotted downstairs to the laundry room and switched the diapers from the washer to the dryer.
We spent the rest of the evening uneventfully. Next morning Marm heads down for the diapers and finds them in the dryer right where they should be, still soaking wet.
“Don! Why are the diapers still wet?” she asked me.
I came down to take a look and had this sinking feeling in my stomach.
“Did you turn the dryer on after you put them in here?” she asked.
“No,” was my reply.
“Why not? You now I needed them this morning.”
“You didn’t ask me to. You told me to put them in the dryer, and I did.”
“Are you kidding me?” she exclaimed as she stood there incredulous. “I have to tell you to turn it on once you put the cloths in?”
Here would have been the best time just admit defeat, but alas I wasn’t that wise.
“You said to put them in the dryer,” I insisted, “and, I, did.”
Her eyes turned to fire on the spot. Not only did she have a pile of wet diapers that she needed for the day, but her husband was being the hugest of idiots.
“I figured a grown man would know that when you put clothes in the dryer you have to turn it on. I guess you proved me wrong!”
I was asked to leave immediately.
I had no defense, none. To this day I still have no defense. I would love to justify this somehow. I would love to recover from this and make it seem rational, but I can’t. It simply goes down in the family history book as one of those moments when sometimes… words simply fail.
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I Was Smiling From Ear-To-Ear…
Two peas in a pod.
It’s fun to watch two friends interact when the friendship is a close one. For me, it was especially fun to watch my son Aaron and his pal David playing together as they attacked each adventure. From day one these two little-men forged a bond that would last a life time.
David and his mom Terri had come over on that first day. It was an interview to see if this was the right fit for him since day-care was needed. Both David and Aaron were less than two at the time, so no one really knew if they would actually hit it off.
Marm and Terri were busy hashing out all the business details while these two had the opportunity to hang out…and hang out they did. Instantly they clicked. No sooner were the ladies inside the back door of the house and Aaron and David were running off together laughing and jabbering like old friends. This laughing and jabbering has never stopped.
It never really mattered what they were up to, it was just that they had the best time doing it together. They were inseparable.
I have witnessed them playing inside the house, outside in the yard, and tormenting their sisters to no end. These two rascals were fun to watch. I have scads of memories from these two. (More on that in later posts.) Oddly enough, one of my favorite memories of these fellows took over twenty years to complete. The greatest satisfaction actually came at the end.
Like so many boys do when they’re young, they loved to play army. Wrong, right, or indifferent, they loved getting dressed up in all their gear. They had real and fake camo green helmets, packs, belts, and weapons: rifles, pistols, and swords of course. It never mattered one bit that the weapons weren’t accurate period pieces. They were well armed and that’s all that counted.
They would run whooping and hollering at the top of their lungs while making loops around the open yard pretending to be on a mission of some sort or another. They were fighting an imaginary foe of magnificent strength. They would yell and shout as they bravely charged in attack while brandishing their swords and waving their guns wildly in the air. Just as suddenly they would fall back in full retreat when the enemy blinded-sided their assault from the flank and the imaginary battle turned against them. Over and over and over again they would re-enact one mock battle after another.
Observing these childhood activities was more than enough for me. My arsenal of fond memories lacked for nothing. These boys were a joy to be around, or better yet, watch play.
Sadly, all of these things came to an end all too soon. The boys had grown and those cherished toys from the glory days in the army were no longer needed and were left haphazardly in their rooms collecting dust. Eventually, Aaron’s army gear ended up in a box, over in a corner, up in our attic, with all the other relics that were part of his childhood. There they slept.
As is with life, these boys became men. They had grown up and were now their own masters. They owned their own homes, had their own wives, had real jobs, real cars, real monthly payments. So, in honor of their great independence it was only befitting that we bequeathed to them their proper due. Simply said, it was time for Aaron to come get all of his junk out of our attic. We wanted the space back for our junk, thank-you-very-much!
He knew there was quite the pile of history up there, and being the bright man he is, he had the presence of mind to have David come over and help him with the move.
I was there to help too, but most of the work was going to be done by these robust young studs. They were having quite the time pawing through the mess of things when suddenly one of them stumbled across the box with the ol’ army gear in it.
It was like being in a time machine. Right in front of my eyes these two full-grown men dissolved into two little boys gearing up for war again. It…was…impressive! It was scary, actually!
In and amongst those toys the “boys” were once again pulling out the helmets, packs, belts, and weapons. They put all of it back on and were instantly reliving the glory days. It was a sight to behold. I have to tell you it actually brought tears to my eyes as I watched them. Once again they were those two little guys from by-gone years. They had stepped back in time, if you will, and were those best of best friends that only a childhood spent together could produce, and I was smiling from ear-to-ear.
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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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Curls & Capes 