Thanks, Red

We finally replaced our red Town and Country mini van.

We bought the 2005 red Chrysler in mid 2008 after my (formerly my dad's) Toyota Camry was t-boned by a guy in a truck who missed a stop sign.  The car was a total loss and the insurance claim paid for the van in full.  At the time we were convinced that owning the van was going to be temporary; a quick fix for a road trip to Florida before I deployed to Iraq. The van had plenty of room for a small family that travels with diapers, a portable crib, toys, clothes, etc.  And it had the great equalizer for a road trip - a DVD player!  Worth it's weight in gold, that DVD player kept the, "Are we there yets?" to a minimum although I have heard (not seen) "The Incredibles" over twenty seven times but have only seen it two or three.

We bought the three year old van with 80,000 miles on it.  There was no way we were going to keep it forever - right?  The plan was to sell it on Craig's List before Christmas 2008. 

We didn't keep it forever, but we did keep it for another 97,000 miles.  We kept it through one infant then another - plus a teenager.  We kept it through a bear attack (okay, it just ran into the side of it) and a front end collision.  We kept it through three sets of tires, countless oil changes, a new battery and one total replacement of the coolant system.   We kept it through at least six or seven road trips to Florida and an untold number of trips to Camp.

In the end the coolant leaked, the driver's side window wouldn't go down, and one automatic door wouldn't open but that van owes us nothing.   It was reliable and got us to where we need to go safely and we are sad to see it go.

Of course, we replaced it with another Chrysler Town and Country...with a DVD player.

The Weirdest Dream - Ever

I need to put this on the blog because it is such a strange dream...

So I dreamed last night that I was at one of those wildlife parks, you know, where the animals are right on the other side of a short fence so you get the impression that you are actually seeing them in their natural habitat. I was with the star of my dream, Lisa.

Lisa decided to go over the fence to hand feed a few small alligators.  As she was trying to feed them she was stepping over them and around them, not really paying attention to the fact that larger, monster sized alligators were right behind her. 

Those of us on the outside of the enclosure called out to her to warn her but she wouldn't listen.  The reptiles got under her feet and she kept walking backward toward the pool.

Our shouts got louder and louder.  Our warnings more urgent. 

She fell over and disappeared into the water.  The gators pulled her under.

I jumped over the fence and rushed into the water and grabbed the biggest gator there.  We wrestled in the mud and slime.  Somehow I reached into its mouth and found Lisa.  I yanked hard and pulled out a....banana.

A banana?!

Somehow - I knew - Lisa was inside the banana and all I had to do was peel her out.

And then I woke up.

Someone please explain this to me.

Family Moment #37

No pictures but a great moment tonight.

It was after dinner and everything was cleaned up.  TJ came to me and challenged me to a wrestling match.

And one broke out on the living room floor.  "Elbows" and "body slams" and "face claws".  Boys and girls.  Dad and Mommy.  Sis and brothers.


Pile-ons.

Screams.


Shrieks.

Battle Royal.

Laughter.

The New Year Ahead

1st Day 10th Grade

Summer is coming to an end.  The days are getting shorter and the summer heat is finally dissipating.  And while there are many calendars; fiscal, lunar, Julian - its the school calendar that establishes and forms our year.  January isn't the beginning of the year so much as its the period between semesters. 

This is going to be a big year for this family.

TJ starts kindergarten next week.  Real school with greater expectations and no naps!  Its hard to judge and set expectations on a five year old, but thankfully, my son is a good listener and very polite and respectful.  I suppose that starting out those are good traits to have.  We have been reading over the summer and playing with math on the iPad.  I'm pretty sure he's not a genius but I am also sure he won't be a slacker.

1st Day Kindergarten

Lisa is excited for TJ as evidenced by the collared shirts she has purchased for him.  TJ may not be the kindergarten valedictorian but he will win the award for best dressed.  And best smile.  The one new element TJ brings to our family equation is we now have a hard-time for school.  Whereas in pre-K he showed up whenever Lisa or I could get him there school is different.  School starts at 8:35am.

TJ is going to school on a "traditional" school calendar, meaning that school begins just before Labor Day and ends in early June.  North Carolina also has "year round" school which has the same number of school days but the year starts in early August and has longer breaks throughout the year.  

The other big piece to the puzzle is that Samantha now lives with us and is starting 10th grade at Fuquay-Varina High School.  Big?  I meant, huge.  Samantha lives with us now.  We have a teenager in the house - just like that.

We are fortunate for a few things (so far).  First, Sam is super excited to go to school.  Unlike other kids, Sam actually contacted her teachers over the summer and eagerly engaged them on New Student Orientation Night.  Enthusiasm on the part of a student is a teachers greatest ally.   Second, Sam went school shopping and made very mature clothing choices.  I have been worried about getting into constant arguments over her clothing choices because everything she has now is too tight, too short, too worn, too risque for a young teenager.  I understand you need to pick your battles, but this is one of them.  And then Sam deflates the whole issue by getting blazers and nice tops and pants.  Poof.  Gone.  For now.  Third, Sam is coming into the school as an outsider - and a Northerner at that.  Her clique of friends is back in New York leaving Samantha to learn her way into a new social dynamic.  This might pay off in her attention in class because without her posse to impress with her sarcasm and antics, she might spend more time listening to the teacher and engaging more in the learning process.

Sam's school is also unusual in that it runs its school year like college semesters.  Instead of eight classes for the entire year, she will take four classes in the fall and four other classes in the spring.  Classes will be double the length to make up the time.  The concept sounds great because she can only have homework in four classes at a time.  Of course, the amount of homework hasn't been determined yet.

Unfortunately, Sam provides us another hard-time for the day.  Her bus picks her up at 6:05am!  I'm not even up at 6:05am.  None of us are. She needs to be at school by 7:05am.  The lopsidedness of the two kid's schedules against our work week - or - what we've been used to - has us fretting. 

Last night we went to our first high school football game.  TJ sat with us while Sam hung out with the few new people she knows.  By the end of the game there was a chill in the air as we celebrated a win for the Bengals and the start of the year.

Samantha's Summer of Sailing

Samantha set a lofty goal for the summer - to earn the difficult rank of Lightning Skipper at Camp Seafarer.  Because of its difficulty it was a goal that, at the outset, was not clear whether she would obtain in her last year as a Camper.

Sam in Sunfish #9

Since Sam has been going to Camp she has been a sailor.  She has a natural talent on top of the water, rowing or sailing.  At eight years old she learned to sail a Sunfish - a one small, one sail, sailboat that can fit two people.  (Like the ones pictured here).  She could rig it, un-moor it, and sail it for hours on end.  In the following years she developed a talent for racing these little boats and made the racing team for several years in a row.  She even taught her older cousin to sail and even got her on the team last year.  

Close Quarters

Sam is a easily earned her Sunfish Skipper several years ago.  Of course, with Sam, once she achieves one thing, she want to go the next bigger thing, and in this case the next biggest thing was a Lightning - a two sail, 500 lb boat that can fit up to seven people.  It is not the type of boat you'd expect to see a fifteen year old sailing by herself. 

William J Adams IV Regatta Camper Sailing Teams

Sam dedicated her last year at Camp Seafarer at earning this rank.  To earn a Lightning Skipper means that she can take out one of these boats all by herself.  From all accounts, she poured herself into the classes and passed her water survival test; thirty minute dead man's float, 500 meter swim, among other things because it turns out that the prerequisites to take the final test are just as hard as the final itself.

Lightning Sailboat

She took her final and failed.  That's right, she failed.  By all reports - she was crushed.  Expectedly.  She sobbed and sobbed, according to inside sources.  Who can blame her?!  When you put that much effort into it and when you have that much heart you never expect not to get what you want.

I want my kids to fail from time to time.  I don't want them to win each time they set a goal.  That means the goal might not have been lofty enough in the first place.  I want them to feel that sting and be willing to try again.  Especially if they know victory is just around the corner.

When I saw Sam at the William J Adams IV Regatta on Saturday it had been two days since she failed her Lightning Skipper test.  She was sailing - racing - Sunfish in the regatta.  There were Lightnings on the water too.  I asked her about the test and in a sign of maturity she blamed no one but herself and stated with confidence that she would pass the second time.  After all, this is Camp, and how can you build confidence if you don't get another opportunity to succeed?  She told me that she was going to try again on her fifteenth birthday.

She actually tested the day after her fifteenth birthday and was on the only Camp Seafarer Camper of the Second Session to P-A-S-S her Lightning Skipper test. 

Congratulations to Samantha for earning a real challenging achievement!

Kyrgyzstan, Part II

Part II: Playing Tennis With a Fooball Bat

From my official, unclassified report:

"The scenario was built around a 7.0 earthquake in a southern Kyrgyzstan city that leaves tens of thousands dead, the airport unable to support fixed wing aircraft, and the major road network impassable. 


The primary focus of the exercise was to facilitate communication and cooperation through a specific flow of information.  The Exercise Control Group (ECG) acted as the Crisis Response Center (CRC) for the affected nation, which supplied the game play events to act on in the form of Request(s) For Assistance.  The Regional Coordination Center (RCC) Executive Group took those RFAs and submitted them to the RCC.  The RCC consisted of Plans, Current Operations, Logistics, Intelligence, and Humanitarian Assistance cells. The RFA was then staffed by representatives of those cells in Operational Planning Teams (OPT) and submitted to National Operations Centers (NOC) from each country who would return the RFA in the form of an Offer of Assistance (OOA) to the RCC.  The RCC would then analyze the OOA and either recommend to the executive committee on holding it for a later time, turn it down, or accept it as an Acceptance Of Offer. An International Response Team consisting of USAID, UNOCHA, the International Red Cross and Red Crescent added an additional communication and coordination challenges because they were not collocated with the RCC.

The initial challenges of the regional response efforts were evident in the three languages required for coordination; Russian (the primary language of Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, and Kazakhstan), Dari, and English as every action in the process needed to be submitted in each language.For example, a simple Request for Information (RFI) to locate humanitarian relief supplies took ninety minutes to produce."

In other words, the exercise created an environment of cooperation by putting all the players in the same room in order to solve routine logistic issues that could easily be resolved in a unilateral setting but mandated cross talk and group work.

Still too complicated? Try this - imagine sixty people from five nations speaking in three languages all in the same room trying to solve time sensitive problems.  It is not realistic and at times made very little sense; a lot like playing tennis with a football bat.

The scenario is made much like a Dungeon Master in Dungeons and Dragons; a game I played for all of fifteen minutes when I was a kid.  In D&D (as it was, and still is referred to) a group of gamers set out on a mission - a quest.  The gamers have make believe roles and the game itself is designed by another gamer who does not play but rather guides the game along.  The quest is as complicated as the Dungeon Master makes it and the players have to work together through dangerous and treacherous challenges towards the common goal.  Everything is make believe.

Regional Cooperation is very much like D&D.  Someone made up the scenario (the quest) and then guided us (the gamers) through various challenges.  The game acted and we reacted and when reacted - and based on what that reaction was - the game responded by moving us forward.  In the end we didn't slay the dragon.

Do not infer that we were not successful.  Success in this in not measured by the number of imaginary relief supplies we delivered (slaying the dragon) but by the fact that we did in fact work together across five military cultures and three languages.

And, in fact, that did happen.  I learned that soldiers, no matter what the country, do want to accomplish the mission and will work with others with a similar goal.

In the end, we all "loved on" one another and basked in the glory of our efforts.  Gifts were exchanged.  Big plaques and certificates were handed out to all the highest ranking delegates - and each recipient  had to speak.  But even the minor players exchanges gifts.  I brought small US flag lapel pins.  I received a Kyrgy coffee cup, Tajikistan and Kazakhstan fridge magnets, plus a nice set of Tajikistan post cards.

Some emails were passed back and forth.  Some man hugs were exchanged. We all shook hands.  We all went home.

Its optimistic to think that in the event of a real crisis some of these same people will be able to reach out to their neighbors for their cooperation.

Part III:  Pavel's Party Pavilion

Kyrgyzstan, Part I

Part I: Kyrgyzstan Is A Real Country?

After twenty five years in the Army, I have finally had the chance to go somewhere overseas where no one is trying to shoot me.  I volunteered to take part in an annual Regional Cooperation exercise that involves the United States, Kyrgyzstan, Afghanistan, Kazakhstan, and Tajikistan in an effort to build trust and relationships among the Central Asian nations and the US. 

When I told people that I was going to Kyrgyzstan for two weeks they often responded with, “that’s a real country?” 

My trip lasted three days; departing Raleigh at 7:20pm on a Wednesday and arriving in Manas Airport at 6:00am on a Friday.  In between were three flights, three stops, a two hour delay, and over sixteen hours of flight time to arrive ten time zones ahead of where I started.  I was lucky to travel with others headed to the exercise so I didn’t have to figure London’s Heathrow airport by myself, although I did have to wrestle my luggage away from the all-to-eager taxi drivers in Kyrgyzstan. 

Manas

On the approach to Manas, dawn was breaking and I got to see the snowcapped mountains that surround this region.  Some of the peaks of the Tien Shan Mountains are taller than the Rockies and stand between the capital, Bishkek in the north and to the rest of the country to the south.  Living in North Carolina and New York, and generally sticking to the east coast, I never get to see peaks like this.

Without a doubt the first two and a half days were a whirlwind as we waited for more people from the exercise arrived.  We bussed in to the hotel with a Navy Ensign, Ilena Rush, who grew up in Belarus and had been a civilian translator at this exercise the year before.  Her fluency in three languages most likely helped her get a direct commission.  She helped us get out of the clutches of the taxi drivers at the airport and was quickly adopted as our around-the-town interpreter. 

We pulled up to the Hyatt Regency, the best hotel in the city of Bishkek, and probably the whole country.  The reason for the expensive hotel was that several dozen American servicemen were about to spend two weeks in a country that, while friendly, does have some US resentments.  The Hyatt afforded the greatest distance from any road and had the tightest security.  The Hyatt also had a nice gym, outdoor pool, a bar, and a great restaurant that included a gourmet buffet breakfast with the room price.  I was not about to complain.

Ala-too Square

WWII Memorial

Kyrgyzstan is not without its own internal strife.  A former Soviet republic, they gained independence in 1991, ousted the former Soviet leadership in 2005, and went through a brief and violent coup in 2010.  Most of the latter part occurred here in Bishkek.

Lenin

Bishkek as a capital city is set out on a grid, Soviet style, since the city was founded after the rise of the Soviet Union.  There are wide boulevards and every street is tree lined with spacious sidewalks.  There are clear signs of an infrastructure in need of repair; missing sewer grates, broken pavement, poor drainage, but as a whole the city functions.  The city is also alive.  Families are out in the numerous parks until well after nightfall and there always seems to be music and bright lights coming from one spot or another.  The city is most definitely aware of itself because there is art in the parks, museums, amusement parks, and statues of famous Kyrgys.  If you look carefully you can still see Hammer and Sickle iron works on most public buildings – not to mention the thirty foot statue of Lenin down the street from the American University of Central Asia.  

Park Ping-Pong

Park Fountain

Bishkek has hundreds of restaurants of all different flavors and tastes.  To date I have been in Russian, Kyrgy, Indian, Italian places as well as the pub downstairs.  Many of these places have seating out on the sidewalks or under awnings.  Most of the staffs I encountered were either able to speak English or had English/Russian menus to point at.  The food has always been very good.  For every five places to eat there must be one nightclub or bar.  And so it was that on one night I found myself with six others and Ilena in a Kyrgy nightclub called The Bar Code. 

Fish-Out-of-Water comes to mind walking into a disco where every other patron is both Asian in appearance, but also twenty-five years younger than me.   Those kids politely ignored us and danced among themselves.  I lasted until 12:30am (thanks to the jetlag) before I called it quits and went home.  While Ilena and others might be night owls, I never have been.  Walking back to the hotel – while not advised – only took ten minutes at a brisk pace. 

Osh Bazaar

Fresh bread

Shopping in the bazaar

Isles upon isles of clothes.

I went to the Osh Bazaar the next day.  While there is high end shopping in Bishkek, most people shop at the bazaar - an odd mix of buildings, open air markets, and isles and isles of covered, cramped and congested shopping stalls with clothing of questionable authenticity.  It was claustrophobic and warm.  There were smells as sweet as fresh bread and candy and putrid as slaughtered animals and unwashed human beings.  Every price is negotiable - even if you cannot speak the language.  However you take it in, the bazaar is a feast for the senses.

Of course there is corruption.  Of course there are undertones of  unrest. Of course there are issues that always seem to surface in this region.  However, this trip isn’t about any of that and you won’t find it unless you go looking for it.  

And that is not my mission here.

Instead, a capital city, at the foot of the Tien Shan Mountains, in the warmth of summer is a not a bad way to serve your nation.   

And, yes, Kyrgyzstan is real country.

(Part II: Playing Tennis with a Football Bat)

A New Sheriff in Town

There are times in which you know your parenting style needs to change. For some reason, your children have learned to push your buttons, know what to expect and how to get away with something very close to murder. Try as you may, you can not get them to change their behavior, listen to you, and do what you ask without sassy talk. Tonight was one of those nights. I just couldn't take it any more.

Dad was gone to men's group at church. So it was just me, my mom, and the boys. And that is when it all broke loose. Grant was fussy. Did not want to be in his high chair. Did not want to eat. Surprisingly TJ plowed through his dinner (usually he is the last one to finish) and he was ready to be excused. And so TJ and a super sensitive Grant were running around and playing. But TJ was playing rough. TJ was not letting Grant take a turn with a blanket and the boys' tv chair. So, Grant would burst into tears. As I said, something about him was off tonight and he was super sensitive.

Level 1: My solution was that if the blanket and chair are causing that much of a problem we would remove them both from the room. If they can't play nicely, they don't play at all. Fair enough, right?

Well, you would of thought that I was taking their most prized possession away from them. TJ clung to the blanket. Grant fell onto the chair. I asked them to stop. They did not listen. I pried their hands off the two items and I took them to the garage. They followed. They held on. I gave TJ a warning. He laughed. 

Okay, time for level 2: Send TJ to his room for time out because of bad behavior. He would not go. Gave TJ a second demand to go to his room. Still clung to the blanket.

Level 3: If he is not going to his room on this own, I will help him get there. So I do my best to carry a kicking child up the stairs and into his room with a baby that wants to come too. Get him to his room. Of course as I go tend to Grant. TJ comes out of his room. He thinks it is a game and laughs.

Level 3.5: Escort him back to his room and tell him that I am closing his door to serve as a reminder for him that he is supposed to stay on the other side. TJ HAAATES this level. He HAAATES when the door is closed. Of course he opens the door. But miraculously he stays in his room. I tell him that if he comes out of his room again I will take away his toys. So I go downstairs and get Grant's bottle ready so I can put this super cranky child to bed and then focus all of my energy on the eldest cranky child.

While I am downstairs, I hear TJ being very loud and disruptive upstairs (although he is in his room). Should I go confront? Is he just trying to get some attention for continued negative behavior? After 5 minutes of this, I go upstairs. TJ is throwing his matchbox cars across the room into the wall. I go to him and ask him to stop. I see a 1 cm divot in the wall. I show him the damage that he is making and let him know that throwing cars and destroying the house is not a good choice for him to make.

At that time he decides to follow me and steps out of his room. Thus enters Level 4.

Level 4: Remove the toys from his room. As promised I start to take out the toys. Of course this also makes me have to pick up all of the cars that he has thrown around the room. . . so it takes a little longer to do. I put them all in Samantha's room. "You missed one" he sasses back to me. I give him a stare of daggers and I grab the toy and lock the door to Samanthas room so that he can not go in.

Now he starts to get that I am serious and starts to cry. He is breaking. . .or so I thought. But the dance continues. Laughing, following me out of his room and when I turn around running back into his room. He is clearly disrespecting me and my rules that I put forth. He is sassy. So. . . . level 5. But what is level five. He clearly does not get that I am serious. He clearly has no respect for me and my authority. How long should I let this continue? I do not want him to walk all over me. He is not in charge. I am.

I considered spanking. I have never been a fan of it. We tell children they must not hit, but when they are bad, we hit them? It is not logical. But, man it would feel good right about now. But my deep seeded fear is that I will go gentle on him when I spank (because I really do not want to hurt him), and so then he will laugh and say, "is that all you got?" and realize that he still has the upper hand. So, I took a tip from one of my other mommy friends and what she did with her child. When she first told me of her method, I judged. I was surprised. I thought that is not a very developmental thing to do to a child. But, now. As my child continued to sass me and I knew I had to somehow end this sass, I reconsidered this form of discipline. And so I moved into a whole new realm of parenting. What I was doing was not working. Time to move to Level 5.

Level 5: Cider Vinegar. I brought upstairs a bottle of cider vinegar and a large table spoon (I was thinking the larger the better). I asked TJ to come into the bathroom with me (for I knew based on my friend's story, this could get messy). I told him that I had medicine for him to take. It was medicine for very nasty boys. I told him that I will not tolerate his sassy talk, his disrespectful behavior any more. And for him to understand this, he needs to take a spoonful of this medicine. TJ asked me if the medicine tasted bad. I said, yes. Bad tasting medicine for bad behaving boys.

I poured some of the vinegar onto the spoon. He was sitting on my lap. He fought a little. Who wants to take bad tasting medicine? Some of the vinegar fell to the floor. I held his head and managed to put the spoon into his mouth. He gagged and spit right away. But the bad taste was clearly in his mouth. The vinegar had gotten to where it needed to go. He was crying.

I told him that he needed to go to his room. If he came out of his room, he would get more medicine. I walked away. He cried. He coughed. But HE STAYED IN HIS ROOM.

I finally had a moment to put Grant to bed. 15 minutes later, TJ was crying. But in his room. I decided to give him some water to at least stop the coughing. 15 minutes of that taste in your mouth is bad enough. The deed had been done.

I brought him a cup. He got this look of fear in his eyes. Clearly he thought I was making him take more medicine. I told him it was water. He drank it and told me that he thinks the medicine is going to make him throw up. I said, it might make you feel that way. That is what bad boy medicine does. But I also gave you the water to help you not to throw up.

He was a bit more calm now. Still upset. Still in shock with what happened. I told him that he needed to stay in his room and that he could get changed into his pajamas, go potty if he needed too, but he was done for the night and could put himself to bed. And under no condition was he to leave his room.

And he did not leave his room. He cried. Sobbed actually. He put on his pajamas. 20 minutes later, he was calling my name. . .but still in his room. Still shaken by what had happened. I brushed his teeth with him. I told him he could read a few books before bed. I gave him a hug. I told him that I was very disappointed in his behavior tonight and expect that this bad behavior will stop so we do not have to use the bad boy medicine again. I also told him that I loved him very much and that would never change.

I have to say I am really torn by what I did. I feel that it was a much better option than hitting, but I hate that I felt forced in the corner to go to level 5. . . I hate that I gave my child cider vinegar. That is something that "bad moms" do to their children-- you know-- like the stories of washing children's mouth out with soap. We always look back on episodes like that in our own lives and say, "I cant believe she did that."

But at the same time, I also pray that this act surprised my child enough to understand that mommy was still in charge and his acts of defiance will not be tolerated.

I will not have children disrespect me. I will not have children that think they run the house. I will not be a parent that lets the children run the house.

I pray that tonight, I am one more level farther away from letting that happen.

T.J. I am sorry that I did what I did tonight. I think cider vinegar is nasty. I can't believe that I fed it to you. I am so thankful that you did not throw it up. I am so thankful that in the short term, the vinegar changed your behavior. I am also hopeful that it will have an affect on the long term of your behavior too. . . or God help us all!

Tonight, there is a new sheriff in town. I am pleased to say that she has restored the peace tonight. TJ is in his room and has not come out (something he is famous for at bed time). May this sheriff continue to rule in such a way.

Memorial Day Water Fight!

Mommy and Grant Vs TJ

TJ Owns the Hose!

Whoa - Who's Side Are You On?

Grant Fights Back

Grant Wins!

Happy Memorial Day to everyone.  We had a great day of playing with the hose, swimming in the pool. and fishing in the pond.  It was a great way to relax before we all dive into summer. 

An Open Letter to Our Children

Dear Kids,

We love you very much.  All three of you.  All at the same time.  You give us endless joy each and every day.  Without a doubt you are the center of our universe and we are all the better for it.  But before we were parents, we were a young couple without kids, and for a day and a half this weekend we got to be those two people once again!

Thanks to two babysitters, Emma C. and Emma J., and Grandma as a back up, we went to Wilmington, NC without you!  A whole twenty-seven hours without parental responsibilities.  It turns out we're still a little cool and can still relive a little of the past.  Of course it helps that Wilmington is a lot like Ithaca, NY - only in the South and on a river.  Except for the water/ocean/southern style theme in the stores, historic downtown is remarkably like Ithaca Commons.

The artisan shoppes at the Cotton Exchange with hand blown glass works, paintings, pottery, and antiques are no different than any store we used to walk through in two minutes in Ithaca.  That's not to say there wasn't some really nice things to look at, but it was hard not to think we hadn't seen it before.  The people didn't seem much different either.  The streets were full of with college students, stoners, bikers, tattoo artists, freaks, geeks, gays, and tourists.  It made us feel more at home to people watch.


In the middle of the day we walked from our bed and breakfast inn down onto to Front Street - which, although clearly in its second life as a tourist attraction, was well past whatever prime it had seen in the 1950's, '60's, or maybe even '70' - and into the Front Street Brewery and ordered beer first and food second.  Without you to look after and answer to every other second we could catch a little buzz off of their IPA and ESB brews and continue on to the next bar - although, to be honest we didn't have another drink for a while - but we could have if we wanted too!  A pub crawl has never really been our thing, but if we didn't have other plans for the rest of the day we could have visited ten different bars all within a half mile of one another.

On the roof top bar on Front Street we got to watch the sun start to drop behind the USS North Carolina across the Cape Fear River, without worrying about any of you dropping something (like yourselves) off the side to the pavement six stories below.  We talked about things that were on our mind; our cares and concerns, work and life and the balance we try to find between the two.  Most importantly we talked about our love for one another and how truly blessed we are. 

I rediscovered my sense of humor exclaiming out loud as we left that establishment, "Lisa, I'm sorry.  I didn't know it was a clothing optional bar," as other patrons entered. Almost as funny as, "What do you mean the baby isn't mine?!," I say in Wal-Mart.  And if I had a dry erase marker on me I might have changed their sign on the street level too!  Next time.

Thanks to Lisa's reality TV savvy, we went out to dinner at Catch - a very nice and very expensive restaurant that we could never, ever, have taken you to.  E-v-e-r.  It is owned by a man who was on Top Chef, and well, of course we had to go because he-was-on-TV!  It was great to have food that was over the top in its presentation and taste.  Truly the best calamari I ever had and the best rice, yes rice, I ever tasted.

We got to be adults who could get a little drunk, have a little adventure, and not worry about which one of us was putting you to bed!  We didn't stay out late - but we could have if we wanted to!  And we got to sleep in late.  A rarity for us!  Being met with breakfast already to go, not having to cook or clean up afterwards - Oi! what a treat.   

Sunday morning we just walked around the old neighborhoods around 2nd and 3rd Avenue without an agenda but taking in the homes with wrought iron gates, big wood doors, and historical markers on the front of most of them.  I reminded myself and Lisa that my handyman skills are somewhat limited and that a house like any of these would take constant maintenance lest either one of us get grandiose ideas of owning such a home.  In fact, I think we settled on an RV with some ramblings about a sailboat.  Before we got in the car for the drive home we discovered something else...
 
Kids, we have a love between us that exists without you.  That's not a bad thing, or selfish, or mean.  We don't get to have that too often because of the love that we share as a family.  Over the next two decades we will watch each of you grow and leave us for your own lives and loves.  We will be taking more of these trips before we ever find ourselves with an empty nest and no idea what do next.  They will be longer and farther away too! 

Don't worry we'll send you a postcard. 

Peter Pan Meets Cinderella

April.  The time seems to go by so quickly between posts.  It seems like there is never enough time to catch up in the family journal while life seems to be going at 100 mph.

The boys are 4 1/2 and 16 months now, caught in that perfect age of innocent splendor.  Everything centers around what is in the moment and next week is a long time away.  It's April and TJ is looking at toys for Christmas with no concept of how far away that it is - next Friday, maybe? 

On our staircase are an arrangement of photos from the last seven years.  There is Samantha at 7 in an inner tube in Cayuga Lake.  TJ, at 18 months at the Cortland Pumpkin Festival.  I have memories of those days, but so much has taken place since those pictures were taken that it's hard to remember what the kids were actually like as toddlers and kids. 

It's almost possible to fathom them in five years when we see the other kids who are nine-ish around the block, but imagining TJ and Grant at 14 and 11 - ten years from now, is difficult because there are only the slightest of hints of the boys they will turn into.  And so they are trapped in the here and now, forever a little boy and forever a toddler.

It's hard to remember Samantha at 4 years old since I am giving her, her first driving lessons this week.  Ten years ago my life was still in transition and I was not on the same solid ground as I am now.  I was absorbed with my own here and now and my memories are fuzzy.  And that's why I want these two to stay this young forever.

Forever sweet and adorable.

As a sign of everyone getting older, "Auntie Tina" came to town with her son, Hanson.  She holds a special place in our lives.  Tina was Lisa's housemate in graduate school in San Diego and was the maid of honor at our wedding.  Tina was also once Cinderella at Disneyland (and Alice in Wonderland).  Given our affinity for Disney we think that's cools.  We told TJ about her alter ego but TJ didn't really have the ability to connect that Cinderella was not actually Cinderella.  I mean, how could she possibly be Auntie Tina too?!

Everybody grows up.  Some do it better than others.  The boys and Samantha stay forever young in the photos and home movies we have of them.  A ransom against their own kids one day, but for now a great place to start to tell the stories from when they were young.

Signs of Spring

Spring 2012, welcome!  The trees are flowering and people are already starting to get back into the earth.  It's one of the benefits of living in the south.  Back in New York we'd wait another four weeks to plant anything.  We had some really warm days already and this week will lend itself to short sleeve shirts during the day. 

TJ is 4 and 3/4.  He's "matured" in the last few weeks - everyone has noticed; mom, Mrs Cooper, his teacher, our friends.  The toddler gave into the child, and now the child is beginning to morph into the boy. This week he made "Student of the Week" at Johnson Pond Learning Center...we're so proud.

We bought a bat and balls and went down to the "Green Park" which is TJ speak for the park we used to go to before we moved into South Lakes and start going to the "Fish Park".  It has a nice playground and half sized soccer field.  I got it my head that it was time to start playing sports with my son. 

Parents need to manage expectations.  No child is a prodigy.  Tiger Woods played golf for fifteen years before he was "good" enough for the pros.  However, a dad hopes that his son will have some sporting ability - if nothing more than the warrior spirit passing from generation to generation.  After his first season of soccer, I thought TJ would be a good teammate, but never much of a star.  And since sports competency always seemed beyond my reach as a kid I wonder (and hope) for these boys.

I played a few seasons of minors in Little League on the worst team in the league, the Cardinals.  We lost almost every game.  I was number seven - not that there was any luck associated to it. Due my aloofness for the game as a whole I was relegated to the outfield where I literally sat and waited for the inning to be over.  Of course, having your dad's business as the team sponsor only added to the overall humiliation.   It wasn't until high school that I discovered Track and then it took another ten years to really get into running for pleasure and competition.  

Unlike my brother and his children I am not sports oriented.  I do not have a favorite team in any sport and will usually tend to root for the underdog in any contest because everyone loves a good cinderella story.  I do not watch sports on television but when I do I know enough to enjoy the game and argue bad calls by the referee - all to Lisa's utter amazement.  I don't get fans who adorn their cars, kids, and home with the home team logos.  I have no ability to coach and pray that I am never asked.  Furthermore, I think there is a very, very fine line between fantasy leagues and the people who play Dungeons and Dragons - both are very geeky to me.  I just don't get any of it. 

In my favor, I love to watch live sports.  Hockey, football, basketball are all great sports to watch in person.  I love Cornell Hockey, I really enjoyed the basketball tournament for work, and got a kick out of the college football game I went to last year.   For me, being there and sharing in the excitement of the group is the best part of sports for me.

But I digress. 

I bought TJ a foam padded bat and balls and took him on to the field.  And the lesson began.  "Right hand over left hand, TJ."  Pause.  "No. Your right hand." 

"Feet apart."

"Hold the bat off your shoulder."

"Now watch the ball."

And he hit it.  Over and over again.  His form is sloppy and he pulls to the left, but he can connect.  To my utter amazement. 

I expect many seasons of sitting in the stands cheering the wins and feeling the losses.  I expect that each will find their own sport that they will tend to excel at.  I expect - more than anything - to see my children become members of a team instead of trying to be the super star and have fun along the way.  I can be a fan - I can be their number one fan.