Little m Long a

Cabin fever and the daily stresses of five children can skew a persons perspective.  Don’t believe me?  Read this post.  With the very best of intentions I had set myself to writing a pithy little anecdote to illustrate my point about how the effects of cabin fever will cause you to do things that you would otherwise have never dreamed of.  You dear reader, God Bless you, were the recipient of some far fetched and totally out in left field story from my childhood about an extraordinary photo of a UFO in my local afternoon newspaper.  The fever is powerful.  It leads me and I, willing or not, must follow.  I’m sorry.  I’ll try to do better.  But the walls are literally closing in around me, the ceiling compressing and the floor rising.  With that preface, I’m going to try again.

I grew up in Louisiana.  North Louisiana.  Actually, it was Central Louisiana or Cenla as the natives refer to it but as a kid who seldom traveled anywhere, it felt like the north.  And I was north of New Orleans and Baton Rouge.  Not so far north that I could be considered a Yankee but not so far south that I could be considered a coon ass.  I shouldn’t use that term.  That is the typically derogatory term used to refer to the Cajun people of south Louisiana and I’ve got to admit, the Cajun people are truly the salt of the Earth.  I suppose my point here is that I grew up in the middle of the state and it felt like the north to me.  I’ve already lost my way again. 

What I’m trying to say is that I felt that I was growing up in the North and the chill of wintertime affected me.  Yeah, it used to get really cold in the winter time.  This one time, I recall it got so cold that our grass turned brown for two whole months.  Some of the leaves even fell from our trees.  I had to rake them.  Almost filled an entire bag.  That was one long winter.  One morning, it was so cold that I actually had to put on shoes to go outside and get the morning paper for my mom.  My point here being that when the temperature dropped below 40 degrees unless it was absolutely necessary, I would not venture out of doors.  The whole city essentially shut down.  There were no emergency snow evacuation routes.  There were no salt trucks and snow plows.  We are southerners for Christ’s sake, we don’t do cold.  It’s part of our charm.

So here’s where the fever takes hold of my logic.  This past Sunday was a beautiful day.  Beautiful is relative, I suppose.  It was beautiful for a winter day in Middle America, America’s Heartland.  The skies were fairly clear and more than once during the day the sun actually broke through the clouds.  A nice layer of snow still covered the ground.  We had our traditional Sleep Late Sunday breakfast fare of homemade pancakes and sausage.  The kids were in rare form and a collective good mood.  The game of chase each other as you run screaming like banshees throughout the house was rapidly getting under way and the decibel level of kid excitement was reaching its peak. 

Then it happened.  I caught a glimmer of sunshine as I was clearing away the dishes and stopped immediately.  “OK, kids.  Everyone outside.”

“What?  We can go outside?”

“Yes you can.  And…..you get to stay outside.  The sun is out.  Skies are clear.  Go outside and have fun!”

“Hooray!!  Dad, you’re the best.”

It wasn’t until long after they had disappeared screaming with joy into the yard that I felt the urge to check the temperature outside.

23. 

Yes, I sent my kids outside to play with explicit instructions not to come back into the house until I called them for lunch and the outside temperature was twenty three degrees.  But the sun was shining.  No, I did not immediately call them back inside, they needed this and so did I.

At one point I checked on them to see Zoë and Zia hugging as they stood over Zane while he was playing with something at their feet.  “How sweet.  Where is my camera when these great little moments occur?”  They were having a blast and the cabin fever was being cured right before my very eyes.  To their credit, they stayed outside.  I think they could feel the cleansing power of sunshine and fresh air.  The balance of the universe was slowly being restored.

I called them back in for lunch and hot chocolate.  Ten little blue hands, fifty little blue fingers, five little blue faces  and about three quarts of frozen snot crusted on ten little blue nostrils.  “Ddddaadd.  Iiittt’sss ccccoolllddd out ttthhherrrre,”  shivered Zia.

“But you looked like you were having fun.  I even saw you and Zoë hugging at one point.  And what was Zane playing with?”

“Dad.  We weren’t hugging.  We were trying to get warm,” Zoë chimed in.

“And Zane?”

“I was trying to build a fire.”

“All right Jack, drink your hot chocolate.”

Cabin fever…….But the sun was shining.  You think children’s services is going to accept that?

I grew up in Louisiana.  Yeah, it used to get really cold in the winter time.  This one time, I recall it got so cold that our grass turned brown for two whole months.  Some of the leaves even fell from our trees.  I had to rake them.  Almost filled an entire bag.  That was one long winter.  One morning, it was so cold that I actually had to put on shoes to go outside and get the morning paper for my mom.  OK.  You got me.  We had an afternoon paper in our little town.  Only years later as the town began to grow did the paper change its distribution time to morning. 

I kind of liked the afternoon route.  I remember once there was an extraordinary picture of a UFO on the front page of the paper.  Being that it was an afternoon paper and our parents were still slaving away at the old salt mill, as were every other kids parents in the neighborhood, and we had never seen proof positive in our local paper or anywhere else for that matter, of the existence of intelligent life beyond our planet we decided that it would be a great idea if we collected as many extraordinary UFO pictures as possible as this was indeed an exhilarating news event.  Off we dashed on our quest to obtain said extraordinary UFO pictures they of course being on the front page of every one of our neighbors (soon to be our) afternoon newspapers.  Having collected nearly 20 afternoon editions of said paper with the extraordinary photos of a real live UFO we convened at the clubhouse to examine more closely our booty.  Our triumphant shouts of glee abated quickly when we read the caption underneath the extraordinary photo of the UFO, the caption having previously been hidden by the fold in the paper.  New Frisbee Golf Course to Open Saturday.  Of course, by now darkness was upon us and dinner would be ready soon.  We had no time to return the extraordinary UFO/Frisbee afternoon edition to our neighbors and the decision was made to keep quiet and keep the borrowed papers in the clubhouse.  I arrived home to find my mother on the phone with the local paper distribution office complaining that she had not received her daily paper.  I never said a word. 

About 8:30pm our afternoon edition with the extraordinary story about the UFO/Frisbee Golf Course arrived, hand delivered by a very disheveled and apologetic newspaper delivery guy.  “I just don’t get it,” he kept repeating to my mother.  “Every paper in your neighborhood was missing today.  I delivered them this afternoon.  I just don’t know what happened.”  He glanced at me.  I shrugged, looking innocent.

“Oh, look,” my mother later said as she was finally reading her afternoon paper.  “They are opening a Frisbee golf course this Saturday.  How nice.  Hmm.  This picture kind of looks like a UFO.  What do you think?” 

I never said a word.

I’m not sure what I dislike more, the total feeling of helplessness I feel when I am consumed by the inability to articulate the thoughts in my head or memes.  Somehow they both tend to fester in the recesses of my mind rotting there until released from their stagnating pools of decaying gray matter.  Either way, what eventually emerges is usually babble and not nearly worth the time I have invested in them.  I suppose it’s a process, a learning process and I should appreciate the lessons.  Like Castor Oil, it’s good for me, and though I can’t immediately see that, I shouldn’t be dismissive. 

No, I haven’t been tagged as they say.  I did , however, read a very interesting meme by Darren over at Clare’s Dad the other day and it kind of stuck in my head.  It basically uses the songs on your iPod to answer a series of questions.  I had no intentions of completing the meme but the very first question gave me a very cool answer and before long I found my self deep into it.  Oddly, many of the answers my iPod gave were appropriate, some eerily so.

So here are the instructions:

1. Put your music player on shuffle.
2. Press forward for each question.
3. Use the song title as the answer to the question.
4. NO CHEATING.  (This may have been interpreted as more of a guideline than a rule for a couple of my answers.)

So here is the meme and how my iPod answered the questions for me.

Q: What does next year have in store for you?
A: It’s Good to be King by Tom Petty  Wildflowers  (All hail King Ed!  I just may be able to live with that.)

Q: What does your love life look like next year?
A: Shame, Shame, Shame by Kenny Wayne Shepherd   Ledbetter Heights  (I feel I should comment here if only to debunk this crappy little exercise in humility yet by saying anything I fear it would only confirm the harsh realities of life that are being revealed by my ruthless electronics.)

Q: What do you say when life gets hard?
A: Fall Out  by The Police  The Police Live (disc 1)  (Not so sure it’s a statement or my little way of dealing with adversity.  I’m like one of those fainting sheep.)

Q: Song that reminds you of good times?
A: Remembering J.P. by Larry Carlton  Larry Carlton Collection Volume II

Q: What do you think when you get up in the morning?
A: Little Miss Muffet by Countdown Kids  30 Toddler Songs  (Where’s your mind?  I’ve got kids!)

Q: What song will you dance to at your wedding?
A: Desperately Wanting by Better Than Ezra  Friction Baby  (We actually had a zydeco band.  This was pretty cool though.)

Q: Song that reminds you of your first kiss?
A: Emily by Earl Klugh  Solo Guitar  (I do not know Emily, nor have we ever been intimate.)

Q: Your favorite saying?
A: Who Stole My Monkey  by Boozoo Chavis  Who Stole My Monkey  (I do spend quite a sizable portion of each day searching for misplaced items.  Not so sure I lost my monkey, though.  I may have to incorporate the saying.)

Q: Favorite place?
A: Empty Spaces by Pink Floyd  The Wall (Disc 1)  (Oh, for a few hours of solitude.)

Q: Most Missed Memory?
A: Ocean Size by Jane’s Addiction  Kettle Whistle  (This thing is a little fun.  I love the ocean and have very fond memories of family vacations to Florida in my youth.)

Q: What song describes your best friend?
A: Take Time by Lenny Kravitz  5  (I’ll buy that.)

Q: What song describes your ex?
A: Sell, Sell, Sell  by Barenaked Ladies  Maroon  (No comment.)

Q: Where would you go on a first date?
A: Pull by Better Than Ezra  How Does Your Garden Grow?  (I swear this is the song that showed up.  I immediately had flashbacks to that movie, There’s Something About Mary.)

Q: Drug of choice?
A: Weed Whacker by Bela Fleck and the Flecktones  The Hidden Land  (You can’t make this stuff up!)

Q: What song describes yourself?
A: Twenty Four Hours A Day by Billie Holiday  Quintessential:  Volume 1, 1933-1935  (I am often tired.  Hmm.)

Q: What is the thing you like doing most?
A: Goodbye by Patty Griffin  A Kiss in Time

Q: The song that best describes the president?
A: Louisiana Rain by Anders Osborne  Live at Tipitina’s  (I swear, I did not cheat.  This is the song that came up.  I suppose it could have just as easily been  Machine Gun by Jimi Hendrix or Death Machine by Fiction Plane.  Oh, I don’t know.  Pick a song about something remotely gone wrong in the last eight years and I’m sure it could just as easily apply.)

Q: Where will you be in 10 years?
A: Don’t Get Around Much Anymore   by Harry Connick Jr   It Had To Be You  (I don’t get around much now.  My God, if this thing is true it’s going to suck.  I’ll never get out of the house.  Oh, wait.  See #1.  I won’t need to leave–the castle!)

Q: Your love life right now?
A: Dream a Little Dream of Me by Louis Armstrong  The Best of Louis Armstrong  (See #2)

le=”FONT-FAMILY: Comic Sans MS”>Q: What is your state of mind like at the moment?
A: Tears, Tears and More Tears by Elvis Costello and Allen Toussaint  The River in Reverse  (That’s not true!  I am happy!  These are tears of joy!  I’m smiling on the inside!…. Don’t look at me.  I’m hideous!!!)

Q: How will you die?
A: Take That by Lee Rittenour and Larry Carlton  Larry and Lee  (So there you have it.  I’m King of the World one day and the next it’s all over because of some flippant act of retribution by a couple of jazz guitarists.  Great.)


And that’s that.  Babble.  But it was interesting and fun to do.  Try it.  You’ll see.

This entry is adapted from the entry I placed in Zoë’s baby book.  Today is her seventh birthday and I felt it was appropriate to post it.  Please bear with me as I tell the story of my daughter to….my daughter.

You arrived triumphantly into this world 7 years ago today at 3:54pm but your story actually begins much earlier.  I was working the night shift and was unwinding after a long shift when your mother arrived home having pulled an all nighter herself and announced, “Come upstairs.  Quickly.  I’m ovulating.”  What happened next….well, that’s a whole other story for some other time.  Let’s just suffice it to say that on that early morning of May in the year 2000 your story really began.

I remember the morning your mother announced your impending arrival.  She suggested we take a short vacation in January.  Hey, it’s cold in Middle America in the winter so I was all for it.  Then she suggested our resort stay as a hospital on the North East side of town.  I thought she had flipped.  Then, as my good buddy from Louisiana used to say–”the clouds parted to cast a true shadow.” 

The next several months were a blur of doctors visits, baby showers, miniature furniture purchases, purchases of baby powder and onesies.  I remember the first time your mother and I walked into Babies R Us.  There were things there we knew we needed.  (People had told us this.)  This was a place where we could get everything we would need to accommodate a new baby in the house.  (People had told us this also.)  We were not ready.  It was apparent to the seasoned shoppers scurrying through the aisles of the store that we were out of sorts.  More than once  we were asked if we needed help.  More than once we responded to those queries much like a doe caught in the mesmerizing glow of an oncoming Peterbuilt. After 40 minutes of shopping we left the store, empty handed and disheartened.  We were not ready.

As the days to your arrival grew fewer, our trips to the doctor grew more.  Ultrasounds became more frequent and more than once concerns were raised that you might be growing a bit too large.  These concerns were transformed into full blown paranoia by your mother who made no bones about the fact that she was none too excited about passing a small rhino through her nether regions.  An induction was in order.  Your mother and I sat with calendar in hand and selected a day.  Your birthday was now set and part of our grand plan.  It was out of your control, or so we thought.

The night before the induction we went to dinner (I have no idea where) and we saw a movie (I have no idea what).  Conversation was brief and superficial.  We both were quite nervous as to what the next morning held for us.  Uncertainty has a way of doing that to people.  Anticipation has a way of doing that to people.  For in less than 12 hours our lives were to be changed forever. 

The induction began early the morning of the 18th.  Your mother was a trooper as she was poked and prodded and connected to all manner of monitoring devices.  I tried to be as supportive as possible yet my attention quite often turned to the monitors.  I suppose it’s the curse of being a nurse and knowing just enough about what was going on to make me totally neurotic.  I had observed the dips or decels as they are referred to but attributed them to your mother being uncomfortable and moving around too much to get an accurate reading.  The morning came and went.

At the mid afternoon shift change the oncoming nurse noticed something concerning.  Seems your cord had made a bit of an appearance before you.  (This, according to the nurse and as evidenced by the flurry of activity that in mere moments followed her fortuitous finding was not a good thing.)  All of a sudden those decels took on a whole new meaning.  A whole new significance.  In what seemed an instant your mother was whisked away to the surgery suite.  After an eternity (3 minutes) I was allowed to join her.  Pale and stoic, she was giving one word answers to my questions.  I knew that she was OK but your mother is such a tremendously strong person, seeing her like this was a bit unnerving. 

An emergency C-section.  Who would have thought?  When the doctor pulled you out, you looked like a spool of thread.  Cord was wrapped around your neck, over your shoulder, around your waist and through your legs.  (You were very active in the womb!)  I couldn’t hold back the tears.  You were the most beautiful sight I had ever laid my eyes upon.  My darling baby girl.  The whole process from decision for emergency C-section to your delivery took 9 minutes.  A truly grand entrance.

Zoë, you are the joy of my life, the culmination of who I am and my greatest dream come true.  For as long as I can remember, all I have ever wanted in this life is to be a father, something I never had.  I can only hope and pray that as you grow and learn and experience life you will be able to look back and remember your Dad with love and with smiles.  I can’t promise you the world.  I can’t promise you that I’ll never let you down.  I can’t promise you that you will never be disappointed or hurt.  But this I can promise.

I will always love you and will always be here for you.  You are my heart, my joy, my soul–my little girl.

Happy 7th Birthday.  I love you, Zoë!

Dad

 …….As you complete the poster, have fun!!  Remember, this is your chance to show the other children in the class just how special your child is.  We are looking forward to learning more about our Star of the Week……. or some words to that effect. 

Zoë has been selected to be the Star of the Week in her classroom.  Our weekend assignment was to complete a poster that was chock full of information that would be relayed to the other children providing them valuable insight into just exactly who Zoë really is.  You know, burning type questions that you always wanted to ask but were afraid. 

Favorite color—PINK.

Favorite food—MAC AND CHEESE.

Favorite movie—THE LITTLE MERMAID.

I know, I know.  You are sitting there as you read this mouth agape and a feeling a numbness is starting to set in.  These questions went deep, really deep and exposed the very core of my precious 6 soon to be 7 year old little girl.  Hard hitting, no holds barred, strait to the heart of the matter.  She was really spent after having handled the barrage of questions, admirably I feel, and rightly so. 

What?  You mean to tell me that 95 out of every 100 little girls between the ages of 3 and 8 years of age would confess a love of Mac and Cheese and all things pink.  Hogwash!!  My little star is unique.  I refuse to believe anything other.

Favorite song—SEASONS OF LOVE.  (From Rent….525,600 minutes….ring a bell?  First time she heard it, 1 week ago.)

Favorite toy—BARBIE DOCTOR.  (Time of possession, 1 day.  It was an early birthday gift.)

I argued with Zoë on these last two that there is no possible way that she can call them favorites as she just heard the song last week for the first time and the Barbie Doctor is not even all of the way out of the box yet.

“But, I love them!” she insisted. 

So on the poster they went.  It wasn’t until much later and a great deal much more profound thought on my part that I realized just how significant those choices were to Zoë.  You see, for if you should pose the same questions to her two weeks from now I have a feeling you would probably get a completely different set of answers.  Except for the pink thing.  God love her, she’ll never forsake her love of all things pink.  Case in point.  Our ballet classes have resumed following the Christmas break and the Nutcracker performance (there was a great post about bon-bons during that time which I unfortunately never wrote because–I’m lazy) and Zia has started taking classes.  That’s right.  I’ve got two ballerinas now.  Zane continues to abstain despite repeated pleas from the instructor.

Anyway, the spring performance has been chosen and the outfits selected.  There is a very nice display board in the lobby of the studio.  As it turns out, Zoë has advanced to a slightly older class of girls and her outfit for the performance is a stunning purple number.  It should look fantastic.  However, the younger girls class have an equally stunning pink outfit.  Upon seeing this, Zoë immediately began with he questions about why she couldn’t wear pink.  When I explained to her that the younger girls were wearing that outfit she, without hesitation, asked to be placed in her former class.  The girl loves pink!

She’s going to look stunning in her purple outfit.

But I digress.  I was about to tell you what I garnered from the answers Zoë gave for her poster.  Why would she list her favorite song as one she heard for the first time last week and doesn’t even know all the words to yet? Or why would she consider a toy that is still in the box her favorite toy?  Another perk of being Star of the Week is that you may bring to the classroom two of your favorite items to share with the class.  One of the things Zoë selected was a stuffed dog she got out of a kids meal.  ON SATURDAY!!!  How can this be a favorite?!   

This is my take, my insight into the mind of my daughter.  You see, Zoë, my little Star, lives in the here and now and everything that is happening in her life TODAY is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to her.  Every new word she learns is without a doubt the best word she’s ever heard.  Every song is the best song.  Every book is the best book.  Every meal is the best meal.  She truly has a zest for life.  A zeal for living.  A free spirit.

Zoë, at the wizened age of 6 soon to be 7 years old lives her life with exuberance.  Like she’s been granted a pardon but only on the condition that she never stop smiling.  Oh, to live like that, unencumbered by the worries of experience and the realities of life.  Somehow, I doubt her class mates will see beyond the list of things, as it were, on Zoë’s poster.  They probably will not get any closer to or learn anything more meaningful about Zoë than what they feel they already know.  But I did.  It was a simple weekend project and to 24 out of 25 children, meaningless.  But for me it was a bit of an epiphany. 

Carpe diem indeed, little Girl.  Carpe diem.